THE DON'S CAPTIVE MISTRESS

My Seat

HAZEL

I didn’t sleep. Not even a little.

I spent the night tossing, turning, and flipping my pillow over and over like that would change anything... It didn’t. The thoughts didn’t stop, the headache didn’t stop, and the tightness in my chest didn’t stop. When morning finally came, it felt like I had been run over by something heavy and cruel.

So when I walk toward the dining room, I’m still in my pajamas. My hair is a disaster. I have bags under my eyes. I look like I was dragged out of the ocean and left to dry somewhere. Everything hurts...my head the most.

But at the last second, I change my mind and turn toward the kitchen instead. The moment I step inside, I see the cook and one of the maids. Busy hands. Avoiding eyes. There are a lot of staff in this house, but none of them ever want to look at me for more than a second. They always run, always keep their distance, but it never stops them from gossiping behind my back.

The only one who ever talks to me is Angela. She notices me instantly.

“Oh, poor child,” she says, stepping closer. “What happened to you? You look like you haven't had a wink of sleep.”

“That bad? I have a massive headache.” I ask.

“Yes,” she answers flatly.

No sugar-coating. Angela is many things, but gentle isn’t one of them. “Sit. I will get you something for your head. But you cannot be in the kitchen; wait there by the table.”

“Okay,” I mumble as I lean on the counter anyway.

A few minutes later, she returns with pills and a glass of water. I don’t even ask what they are. I take them, swallow, and slowly let my forehead rest on the cool table. My body feels heavy. Too heavy.

Angela stands there watching me. Not cold. Not warm. Something in between. Something tired. Something that has seen too much.

“What?” I ask, my voice muffled against the table.

“We should go to the dining room,” she says. “Mr. Morelli is there. He would like you to join him.”

Of course he would. Of course.

I sigh, long and exhausted. “Do I really have to?”

“Yes,” she says. “Now go.”

I roll my eyes because if I don’t, I’ll cry. I push myself upright and start walking toward the dining room. My head is pounding. My chest is tight. My hands are cold. And Axel is waiting.

When I reach the dining room door, I pause with my hand on the handle. I have to take a breath. A real one. Because my nerves are still raw. I still don’t know what Axel is thinking. I’m mad at him. I’m angry. And the worst part is that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t hurt him back.... I can’t fight, I can’t break him, and I can’t even look him in the eye without remembering what happened last night.

Every time I’ve tried to push back, he hasn’t moved. Not once. And today I’m just… moving through the motions. Surviving. Seeing what happens.

So I open the door. I step inside. And I’m already preparing to see Axel in his usual spot at the head of the table. But I don’t get that far.

A few steps in, I realize someone else is here. Someone is sitting in my seat. I stop. Actually stop. Mid-step.

Kat.

Kat is in my seat. Kat, the last person I ever expected to see inside this house, at this table, at this hour. She has one arm draped on the back of the chair like she owns the room. She’s eating berries from a bowl like this is the most natural thing in the world. Like she belongs here. Like she has always belonged here.

I don’t know what hits me first.

Maybe it’s a surprise.

Maybe it’s disbelief.

Maybe it’s that she’s in my place.

But all of those things stack up inside me until I just stand there, frozen, my thoughts a mess, my feelings a mess, me a mess.

Kat looks up, and our eyes meet. Her lip curves, not a smile, not exactly. Something between amusement and pity and something smug. Something that says she knows things I don’t. Something that says she’s been here before.

Something that says this seat was hers once, and maybe she thinks it still is.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. I just stand there, holding the door like if I let go, I might fall apart.

A moment passes before Axel speaks, and I didn’t even notice him there. He’s leaning back in his chair the way he does when he’s calm. Too calm. Watching everything. Watching me.

“Hazel,” he says, like my name is a situation all on its own.

But he doesn’t tell Kat to move.

He doesn’t tell her she’s in my seat.

He doesn’t acknowledge the shock ripping through my body.

He just waits. And I realize, in that silent, heavy moment, that he’s watching to see what I do. I swallow, realizing that I am already in this situation and there is no backing out of it. This is happening. Whether I am prepared or not.

So I force myself to take a slow breath. I straighten my shoulders a little, even though my knees feel like they could fold. All their eyes are on me; Axel’s are unreadable, Kat’s are sharp and entertained, and the silence is too heavy.

So I do the only thing I can think to do.

“Good morning,” I say, forcing brightness into my voice.

Axel gives me a small nod. Controlled. Measured. Kat answers before he can.

“Morning, Hazel,” she says, all honey and silver blades. The tone is soft, but the sweetness is the kind that rots from the inside.

And the way she says it makes my skin feel tight. It’s not just a greeting. It’s a message. A challenge.