"¡Alondra, apúrate!" Martina called out, dragging a laundry basket behind. "Stop dawdling and help me!"

Her cousin's adenoidal voice pulled her out of her daydream. She ran towards Martina and grabbed the other side of the basket. She grunted at the weight of wet bedsheets and blankets. "We just washed these the other day." Changing Julien Jean Bouvier's bed covers was almost a daily chore. The frequency of the washing was perplexing. "Can't we wash the beddings once a week instead? We do have other duties. These sheets will fade and thin out if we're washing–"

"Señor Julien likes his beddings fresh," Martina explained tersely. "The condition of his sheets is none of our concern. He has plenty of money. He can afford to replace the worn ones." They both lowered the hamper to the ground. "Start hanging. I want them dry before sunset."

Alondra lifted a heavy linen from the hamper and tossed it over the line. Her dark brown eyes squinted as the Puerto Rican sun shone over them. It was a beautiful sunny day in San Juan; the washing will definitely dry before the sun sets.

Alondra Cabral Zepeda started working at the Bouvier mansion three weeks ago. Before that, she was in her hometown of Fajardo, working alongside her mother and grandmother. Coming from a long line of farmers and servants, her hands knew what hard work and manual labour were. She was only twelve when she was employed at Hacienda Garza as a scullery maid. Being the youngest worker, she was the easiest one to pick on. To avoid the scorn of the higher ranking servants, she worked hard. She woke up before the rest of the household, and she was the last one to go to bed. She never complained. Alondra took every hurtful word in, apologised for faults that were never hers, then carried on with her duties. At the end of the day, once she was alone, she would vent through her tears, lash out the words she couldn't say to their faces. She reminded herself that everything was part of a day's work. This was something she had to endure. It was part of a servant's life after all.

Seven years went quick for the humble servant. She moved to be the cook's kitchen maid for a while until she became one of the between maids. Her life was going smoothly until a letter from San Juan arrived.

¡Hola querida Abuela!

I hope this letter finds you well. I wish I could say the same for myself.

It has been over six months, and I still regret coming to San Juan to work.

I shouldn't have left.

I miss you all everyday. I want to go home, Abuela, but I have a

contract with the devil. I wish I have the courage to runaway but Señor Julien

is a very powerful man. I fear He will find me even if I hide. Lord only knows

what he can do. I swear he must be the Satán in the flesh!

I wish I had family here. If I did, life in this hell will be bearable.

¡Madre de Dios! I think I can hear him calling. I must go. Please pray

for me, Abuela.

Tu nieta,

Martina

Distressed by the letter, their grandmother, Eugenia, decided to travel to San Juan to reason with the devil. Tagging Alondra with her, they caught the earliest train out of Fajardo.

San Juan took Alondra's breath away. The robust walls of the fortresses made her feel like she was walking through a castle. Her dusky skin soaked up the sun's warmth. The crisp blue ocean and it's hushing waves reminded her of the shores of home. She wanted to run off and explore the streets, but not today.

Alondra almost didn't recognise her cousin when they arrived at the Bouvier Mansion. She was only twenty-five, but she looked older. Her round her face and midsection were replaced by hollow cheeks and a smaller waist. What happened to her? Fear struck her. She didn't want to be around when Abuela talked to the devil. She begged to stay at the gates, but Abuela didn't want a bar of it.

"Señor Julien is having a luncheon party," Martina explained as they entered the kitchen. "We'll have to wait until everyone is gone, and Señor has rested before we talk to him."

The long wait bored Alondra. While her grandmother was asleep, she found the opportune time to explore the mansion. The first room she entered was the dining hall, which left her gawking at its opulence. The chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings were like diamonds floating over the dining table. The walls had nothing but charcoal paintings enclosed in golden frames. All the painting's subjects were in the nude, and she couldn't make out whether they were men or women. The artist must be someone important to be worth collecting. She walked over to one of the artworks with a naked subject standing in the middle

of a mystical forest. Moving her head closer to the canvas, she attempted to read the signature. "V-V-V-iii-k-k...Vic-t-t-or...Victor." She smiled at her small achievement. Reading was still a struggle, but with more practice and tutoring from those willing to teach her, she expected to read like a scholar.

"¡Oye!"

Alondra choked on her breath. She spun around to face the man. Her mind went blank in an instant. This man must be the Señor Julien Jean Bouvier. How could Martina identify him as 'Satan in the flesh'? He was perfect...Like an angel...His dark brown hair was combed sleek, making the widow's peak on his forehead more prominent. His eyes were a piercing blue, like the ocean cradling the shores of San Juan.

"You're not welcome here," he drawled.

""¡Lo siento! I–"

He moved his wine glass around, making the green liquid swirl around the crystal

walls. Julien looked her over. Stained white top. Faded grey skirt. Definitely a poor girl. Though dressed in old rags, she was striking. Her dark brown eyes beamed with youthful innocence. Her pink lips were inviting for a taste, and so was the smooth curve of her neck down to her bare shoulders. He wanted to untwist her bun and allow her jet black hair to fall free. "Who are you?"

A thrill of excitement made her heart race as his gaze scrutinised her. "Soy Alondra Cabral Zepeda, Señor," was her immediate answer. "I'm sorry for–"

"There you are!" Martina exclaimed. "¡Lo siento mucho, Señor!" She stepped between Alondra and Señor Julien. "She means no harm, I promise!"

"It's my fault," their grandmother intercepted. "I should have kept an eye on her!"

Julien scowled at Martina. "Who are these people?" His voice was steady, stern, and enough to bring tears to Martina's eyes. "Why are they in my house? Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my guests?"

"We came without her knowledge, Señor," Eugenia interrupted. We came here to speak to you about allowing Martina to come home with us."

Julien started laughing. "Absolutely! Sure! Martina can leave." He grinned as he looked into the absinthe that continued to swirl around his glass. "If you can repay the Liao Dynasty vase she broke."

It was then they understood the nature of Martina's contract. To pay off her debt, she was bound to work for him for the next ten years, with only half of her monthly salary.

Eugenia asked Alondra to stay behind and work for Señor Julien so Martina's time can be cut in half. Alondra was more than willing to stay.

***

Two months in the Bouvier estate proved to be quite trying for Alondra. Watching the dashing Julien from afar made her heart ache for him everyday. Alls she could do was steal glances his way. How she hated being poor. A man like him would never take notice of her in the way she wanted.

She strolled down the hall, heading towards Señor Julien's room with her basket in tow. She always looked forward to laundry day. Her heart thumped in her ear as she stood before his bedroom door. She knew he wasn't there, but she knocked anyway before proceeding to go inside. She scanned the room. Seeing it was empty, she dropped the basket on the floor, and skipped towards his dressing table. She lifted the lid of one of his perfume bottles. A whiff of that masculine scent sent her to heaven. She touched the bottle's rim. The cool sensation of that tiny drop was enough to make her giddy. She rubbed the scent against the edge of her sleeve. Now, she could savour his scent all day.

After going through his perfume collection, Alondra carried on with stripping the beds. A frown lined her face, fully aware of the need for fresh sheets. Her giddiness disappeared. Her jealousy over his bedfellows hurt her, most especially the blue-eyed, blonde Victor Harvey Morris. She learned from Martina that Victor was the same artist whose signature showed on dining hall paintings. She felt disgusted, but Señor Julien was a narcissistic creature. Perhaps he saw a tiny resemblance of himself in Victor to be so fond of him. And how could Victor not return that fondness? Julien must be Victor's inspiration for he was an artwork himself.

Then there was Hannah Lolita de Duprey, the doctor who visited Julien ever so

frequently. Her photographs were all over Julien's studio. Alondra hated her! Hannah's scornful stare screamed her dislike for her. Why did this woman resent her so when, not once, has she ever spoken to her.

Alondra's love for Julien had no boundaries. Despite the pain, she accepted his life of avarice and lust as long as he was happy.

"Do you like my scent?"

Alondra opened her eyes. She didn't realise that was daydreaming with the rumpled sheets against her face. Dropping the sheets, she whirled around. "Señor!" How was she going to explain this?

Julien let out a throaty laugh as he saw her furious blush. "I knew you fancied me. I always see you looking at me...Don't worry, I have that effect," he teased.

Alondra looked away. "I-I'll go now, Señor." Just as she was about to gather the sheets, Julien's strong hands gripped her by the shoulders. She gasped.

He nuzzled his nose behind her ear. "You've been fantasising about me, haven't you?" he hissed. Another gasp escaped her lips as he turned to make her face the mirror. "I've never been with a servant girl before."

Her eyes widened at his lecherous suggestion. She had always wanted to feel his touch

and kisses, but was she ready? "P-Pero–" She screamed as his fingers yanked her top down by the shoulders, exposing her to him. Her arms attempted to cover herself, but Julien managed to clip them to her sides.

Lust burned in his eyes as he feasted on her. "Beautiful!"

She couldn't make herself look at him.

Julien laughed at her embarrassment. The fear and shy innocence excited him. He caressed her above the collarbone before lifting her by the chin, making her look straight at the mirror. "You are beautiful, Alondra." He could feel the tension on her shoulders He moved his lips closer to her ear.

Her breath hitched as lips nipped her by the earlobe. She closed her eyes. This was what she wanted. His touch. His kiss. Him. The powerful and rich Julien Jean Bouvier must feel the same way about her. Alondra knew she was far different from his other lovers, but she was what he needed. She loved this man in spite of being the devil everyone saw him as. Perhaps, she was the one to tame him.

He felt her shoulders drop. The tension in her muscles relaxed. He chuckled. "That's right." He started kissing her neck. Her soft moans delighted him. "Let me take care of you."

***

"Is that a new dress?" Martina asked, creasing her forehead.

Alondra smiled. "Si." She pulled billowy skirt by the sides to open it up, showing off the floral pattern. "Do you like it?"

Martina nodded. "It's very nice."

Martina's lack of enthusiasm made her pout. "What's wrong?"

"You seem different."

Alondra was puzzled. "How so?"

She shrugged. "Do you like it here?"

Alondra nodded with a smile. "I do! San Juan is beautiful!" With clasped hands, she squealed. "Oh! Hogueras de San Juan is in two weeks. The workers are taking out broken furnitures for the bonfire already."

Martina frowned. "I wish I could throw Señor's friends into the bonfire...I wish the mansion didn't have any of Señor's friends!"

Alondra understood Martina's sentiments. Julien always had guests around. He had so many friends, but there were those who came more regularly; Victor and Hannah were one of them. Apart from those two, the others didn't seem too bad. Martina thought otherwise and she didn't hold back from telling her about them.

"Señor should be thrown into the bonfire!"

Alondra sucked in her cheek. She was as good as dead if Martina knew about her affair with Julien. It has been a month since she gave herself to Julien. And for that long, she has been sneaking to his room while everyone was asleep. Alondra was content, but he wasn't. Julien continued to seek pleasure in other people's arms. Nevertheless, she remained hopeful. One day, Julien will only want her.

"Anyway, go back to work!" Martina ordered.

Alondra was more than happy to comply. She headed for his bedroom, hoping he was there. Her eyes lit up when his bedroom door came into view. Laying the basket on the floor, she stopped at a mirror hanging above a hallway table. She studied herself, making sure there was nary a speck of dirt on her face. The sudden sound of voices coming from Julien's studio grabbed her attention. If he was doing a photo session, that meant Hannah was in there with him.

Alondra clenched her teeth as she charged towards the end of the hallway. He blood

boiled with jealousy. She wanted to confront them, but she didn't have that right. The door was ajar, and all she could do was to listen through the gap.

"I don't want to do this anymore!"

Her fists clenched upon hearing Hanna's voice.

"Stop being difficult!" Julien growled.

Julien's anger was a frightening sight. Knowing that Hannah was the receiving end of his rage gave her a sense of pleasure.

"She's had enough, Julien," Victor protested.

"Do as I say, woman, or, I swear, this will be the last pay cheque you'll ever get from me! That goes for you too, Victor!"

"Julien!" Hannah cried. "I need that money! You know it's for our–"

Alondra's shoulder jumped at the sound of a smack and a thud. Careful not to make a sound, she pushed the door wider. Hannah on the floor naked, nursing her left cheek.

"Get into position!" Julien yelled as he went behind the camera.

Hannah scurried back on the leather couch, between two other naked men.

Julien was pleased with her obedience. Then he pointed at the spot in front of her. "Stand over there, Victor."

Before Victor covered her view, she caught Hannah glaring straight at her. Alondra stepped away from the door with a jump, then started running back downstairs.

***

After witnessing what happened at the studio a week ago, she expected some grave repercussions. Julien has been acting cold and distant towards her ever since. Thinking about Julien shutting her down made her feel sick. Alondra dropped the silver spoon she was polishing, and dashed for the sink.

"¡Dios mio! " Grabbing a tea towel, Martina followed her. Her hand rubbed Alondra's back as she threw up. When she settled down, she offered her the towel. "¿Que pasa?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's nothing."

"You're sick! You need a doctor." Her head perked up. "Doctora de Duprey! She can help!"

"No!"

"Don't be stubborn, Alondra!"

Alondra's heart started racing. The last thing she ever wanted was an encounter with Hannah. "I'll be–" Before she had a chance to finish her sentence, Alondra had lost consciousness.

***

When Alondra woke up, she hoped to see Julien next to her, ready to nurse her back to health. Instead, it was Hannah who sat at the foot of her bed. "¡D-Doctora!" she whimpered. Propping her hands to her sides, she lifted herself up.

"Don't exert yourself. You must rest."

Her whole body tensed up. Hannah's condescending stare bore into her with a vile smile to match. "H-How much do I owe–"

She waved a dismissive hand "Don't worry."

Hanna's soft chuckle irritated her. "Please, let me pay you." The last thing she ever

wanted was having a debt of gratitude to her.

"Trust me, dear girl, you will need every penny you can save." She stood up. "Now, drink plenty of water. Have some dry crackers when you're feeling nauseous."

"Y-Yes, Doctora."

Right after Hannah had left the servants' quarters, Martina came in with daggers in her eyes.

"Who is he?"

"Wh-What?" Alondra was confused.

"Who is the father?"

She shook her head. "I-I don't understand."

"¡Estas embrazada, puta! Who is the father?"

Shocked by what she heard, Alondra's hands shot in front of her lips. I'm pregnant? I'm carrying Julien's child!

"Alondra! Who is the father?"

Martina's scream startled her. "J-Julien," she replied softly. "We–" Her whole right cheek stung in pain after Martina had slapped her.

Martina's stare was ablaze. "How could you let him touch you?" She swiped her other hand across Alondra's face. "What will I tell Abuela? What will I tell your mother?" She grabbed her cousin by the arm. "What? Did he offer you money? Are you one of his whores now?"

Tears flowed down her cheek. "It's not what you think! I love him! We love each other!"

Taken aback by the revelation, she shook her head. "Love? You're a fool, Alondra! He can't love you!"

"It's true!"

"Then you must tell him!" she demanded. "Tonight!"

"Tonight?" Everything was happening so fast for Alondra. Learning she was going to be the mother of Julien's child was overwhelming enough. "Not tonight–"

"Tonight!" Martina insisted. "That demon must take responsibility!"

Alondra waited for the entire household to fall asleep before creeping upstairs. The words she wanted to tell him fumbled in her head. She wasn't ready, but Martina pushed her. He has to know. Besides, our wonderful miracle will delight him! After tonight, Julien might ask her to marry him. Her eyes lit up at the thought of starting a family with him. She rubbed her stomach. You will have a much better life that I do, little one.

She stood before Julien's room. It was past midnight, but there was still light shining through the gaps. This excited her. He's waiting for me! Aldonra invited herself in. Julien was at his desk, writing. "Julien?" she called with caution, gripping the sides of her skirt. "Julien? I need to tell you something."

He didn't even lift his head up to acknowledge her presence. "Not tonight, Alondra," he snapped. "I'm busy."

She winced at the rejection. "It won't take long," she insisted.

"Fine! Make it quick!"

She gulped. If she told him the good news, he wouldn't be so cold towards her. "I have great news!"

Julien leaned back on his leather chair, and glared at her. "What is it?"

She took a deep breath. Clasping her hands together, she walked up to his desk. A smile broke through her quivering lips. "I'm pregnant...You're going to be a father, my love!"

His eyebrows raised. "What?"

Aldonra didn't know what to make out of his reaction. Shock? Disbelief? Doubt? "I'm pregnant...I found out today. Doctora Hannah–"

He broke out in laughter.

Alondra joined him in laughter. "Isn't it amazing, mi amor?"

Julien stood up as he broke into hysterics. "And you say I'm the father?"

Alondra's own laughter died down. His tone didn't sit well with her. He stopped laughing. The furious expression on Julien's face frightened her. "S-Si. Isn't that wonderful?"

"You're saying that the bastard growing inside you is mine? What is this? Are you

trying to extort money from me?"

Stunned by his accusation, she shook her head. "N-No! I would never!"

Pointing a finger at her, "Liar! ¡Maldita perra! I can see right through you! You're scheming to trap me to marry you! That child isn't mine! You think you can trick me to me to support you and that bastard?"

"Julien, that's not true!" she cried. "¡Estoy enamorada de ti!"

"Liar!"

Before Alondra could protest, she felt Julien's hand whip against her cheek. She screamed in pain. How could this man be so cruel? "I-I love you, Julien," she sobbed. "You're the only man in my life! Please believe me!" She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around him. "How can you not be happy with the fruit of our love?"

Julien pushed her away. "Love?" He was in hysterics again. "You think we're in love?" He shook his head. "My dear, Alondra! You so naive! I've enjoyed every minute of you, but love? You actually think I love you?" He looked her over. "How could I love someone like you? You're nothing but a servant!"

The disgusted snarl on his face made her head spin. She gave him her innocence. She obliged to everything he wanted to keep him happy. The pleasure that surged through her body when they made love was his love for her! How could he deny it? "That's not true!" she screamed. "That's not true!"

"I'm done with you, you disgusting whore! Get out of my face!"

Alondra's body trembled. This was all a bad dream! She buried her face in her hands. He didn't mean any of those words! He loves me! He will accept me and my child! Hannah's face entered her mind. Her sound sardonic chuckle was piercing her head. Did she tell him the news and poisoned his mind so she could have him for herself? Images of Hannah and Julien sprawled naked on his bed flashed before her. Does he love her? He can't! She's married! He can't love her! She can't have him!

"Get out of here!" he hissed before turning his back to her.

"You can't do this to me, Julien! I love you!"

"Get out!"

I'm the one you love! Not Hannah! Not Victor! Not anyone else! Me! Without thinking, she grabbed the bottle of absinthe from his table. In one accurate swoop, the bottle cracked on the back of his head, causing Julien Jean Bouvier fall to the floor.

Realising what she had done, Alondra scurried to his side. "¡Diosito querido, perdóname!

¡Perdóname!" She shook Julien vigorously. "I'm sorry! Please wake up!"

Alondra's bed was empty when Martina woke up. She knew that she would be with her lover during these ungodly hours, and she was right. She found Alondra laying on the floor with Julien's lifeless body. "¡Dio mio! What did you do, Alondra?"

Unable to speak, she shook her head as she cried into Julien's chest.

The sight of blood pooling around Julien's head flustered Martina. "Get up!" she snapped, pulling Alondra up. "We have to get out of here." She saw the splatters of absinthe and blood on Alondra's dress. "Clean yourself up!" Her cousin remained motionless. Martina snapped her fingers to her face, "¡Ahora mismo, Alondra!"

Martina's abrupt command jerked her back to her senses. She rushed towards the en suite to wash off any traces of blood on her. When she returned, Martina was going through Julien's cluttered desk "What are you doing?" she asked between sobs.

"Thinking!" she grunted without taking her eyes of the table.

Alondra gazed at her lifeless Julien. "W-We should put him on the bed." She was about to walk over to him when Martina's hand stopped her.

"Leave him! Don't touch him!"

"We can't leave him there!"

"¡Estupida! Do you want to get caught?"

This was no nightmare. Everything was real. She killed him. She was a criminal. She deserved to be punished...But my baby..."What am I going to do?"

Hearing Alondra's uncontrollable sobs flustered Martina even more. She stared at he. Disheveled hair, swollen eyes, and wet patches all over her dress. She was a mess. "We'll find a way." She had to think fast. The police would interrogate the household staff first. Judging by Alondra's unconsolable state, she was reeking with guilt. Her attention returned to the little notes. Señor Julien was writing the invitations for his party in celebration of Hogueras de San Juan.

You are cordially invited to a dinner party.

On the 23rd of June, 1920, at 7pm

Julian Jean Bouvier's mansion.

It seemed like he invited all the prominent figures in San Juan. She skimmed through the guest list, and came across familiar names.

Arthur Elliot. Belén Lucia Leon Valentín. Claudio Nicola de Portu.

Harvey Oliveira. Irene Grace. Jacques Prieur. Varian de Vera.

Victor Harvey Morris. Hannah Lolita de Duprey.

They were all in Señor Julien's regular circle. Being a maid in this household had its advantages–not only did the walls have ears, but they had mouths as well. She knew that each one was as shady as the other. It wasn't their shadows Martina was interested in, but the fact that they were all with Señor Julien in the last twenty-four hours. Martina sat on the chair, grabbed a pen, and began writing with haste.

Alondra walked closer. Picking up an invitation Martina had finished writing on. She tried to read it. "Martina–"

"Shhh!" Martina snatched the invitation back. She gathered the nine invitations she wrote on, and stood up. She looked at Alondra straight in the eye. "Listen well, Alondra. We will carry on like nothing happened, comprendes?"

"Let's just leave! Let's go home!"

"Don't be a fool! That will raise suspicion! Just do as I say!"

All she could do was nod.

Raising a finger at her and widening her eyes like a warning. "Now, you will stop crying. No one must see you grieving. Do your duties as usual. Do you understand me?"

She nodded.

"Do you understand, Alondra?" she repeated firmly.

"¡Si!"

Satisfied, Martina nodded, "Muy bien." She slipped the invitations in her pocket before heading for the door.

Alondra gazed at her sweet Julien one last time. "Lo siento mi amor," she whispered.

"¡Vamonos!" Martina snapped.

Alondra slipped under her blankets as soon as they returned to their quarters. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands together, and chanted a fervent prayer in her head. If she did her part, and kept her composure, no one would ever suspect her.

Santa Maria, help us! Martina prayed. Her hand went over her pocket. Once the invitations were out, her plan would be in motion. These nine people loathed Julien Jean Bouvier with a passion. If they all came together, no one would ever think that the young, innocent Alondra Cabral Zepeda killed the devil incarnate. Martina was confident that after adding a few words, all nine would be too petrified not to attend.

I want nary a murmur or complaint

if you want me to keep your secret.

THE END