🔥 The Spoiled Brat Turned Into a Slave – Episode 3 🔥

Slave to My Own Reflection

Slap!

The sound echoed so loudly it felt like it cracked the air itself.

My head snapped violently to the side as a sharp, burning pain exploded across my cheek. For a moment, my vision blurred. I stood there, stunned, trying to understand what had just happened.

Then I looked up.

It was the head maid.

Her eyes were blazing with fury, her chest rising as if she had been waiting for that moment.

“How dare you disrespect the young master?” she snapped.

“Have you lost your manners?”

The hall fell into a terrifying silence.

My cheek throbbed, but the pain wasn’t what shook me the most.

It was the humiliation.

The accusation.

The reminder of where I stood in this world.

Something dark and familiar stirred inside me — something I thought I had lost.

I turned fully to face her, my voice sharp, unfiltered.

“Why would you slap me?”

“Do you even know who you’re laying your hands on?”

“Who do you think you are?”

A wave of gasps rippled through the hall.

Every maid froze.

Eyes widened.

Hands trembled.

Fear filled the room.

This wasn’t how Mirabel behaved.

The Mirabel they knew would have dropped to her knees immediately — apologizing, crying, begging for forgiveness.

But I didn’t kneel.

I didn’t beg.

I stood there, unbroken, eyes burning with defiance.

That was when I felt it.

Someone watching me.

I turned slightly.

The young master stood there, silent.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t intervene.

He only watched me — carefully, slowly — as if trying to peel me apart layer by layer.

Then, for the briefest moment, something strange happened.

The corner of his lips curved upward.

A smile.

So faint.

So subtle.

So dangerous.

Before anyone could react, he turned and walked away.

That smile sealed my fate.

From that day on, the head chef made sure I paid for my audacity.

My workload tripled.

I was given the hardest tasks — scrubbing floors until my fingers bled, carrying loads heavier than my body could bear, working without rest.

Any mistake — no matter how small — earned punishment.

A wrong step? Slap.

A broken plate? Slap.

A delayed response? Slap.

Humiliation became routine.

At night, in the servants’ quarters, I would stare at my reflection — bruised, exhausted, unfamiliar.

This wasn’t just punishment.

This was a slow, calculated attempt to erase me.

Days later, the mansion transformed.

Music filled the air.

Lights sparkled.

Laughter echoed endlessly.

The young master hosted a lavish party.

His wealthy friends flooded the estate — arrogant, loud, drunk on power and privilege.

The maids lined the walls like shadows, waiting to be summoned, waiting to disappear.

I stood quietly in a corner, hoping not to be noticed.

But I was wrong.

One of his friends spotted me.

Then another.

They exchanged knowing looks and smirked.

Everyone knew it — despite everything, I had become interesting.

Not important.

Not respected.

Just entertaining.

A glass tilted deliberately.

Wine spilled across the marble floor.

“Hey,” he called lazily.

“You. Clean that.”

I bowed slightly and turned to fetch a rag.

“No,” another voice cut in.

“Not a rag.”

My heart sank.

He stepped closer, eyes glinting with cruelty.

“Use your tongue.”

I hesitated.

Fear crawled up my spine.

Before I could react, his hand grabbed my hair, forcing my head downward.

“Do it,” he whispered coldly.

“Or I’ll make what you’ve been through feel like mercy.”

My body trembled.

Slowly — unwillingly — I bent.

Then something snapped.

A memory surged through me like fire.

Edward Gabriel Venes.

Heir to Venes Global Enterprise.

My chest tightened as I I straightened abruptly and shoved his hand away.

“Who do you think you are to touch me?”

“Who do you think you are to speak to me like that?”

My voice was cold, dangerous.

“Touch me again and you will regret it.”

“I am the heir oof Venes Global nterprise.”

“You don’t know who the hell I am.”man who never bowed.

A man who never begged.

IThe music stopped.

Laughter died instantly.

Every eye in the room turned toward me.

Shock.

Confusion.

Disbelief.

Who was this maid?

What was she saying?

And then—

Slap!

Another slap.

Hot.

Hard.

Crushing.

This one sent me to my knees.

The pain shot through my face, down my spine, into my legs. My knees hit the floor painfully, and for the first time since this nightmare began, tears spilled from my eyes.

I looked up slowly.

It wasn’t the head chef.

It wasn’t a maid.

It was him.

The young master.

My heart shattered.

I had never truly interacted with him before — never stood this close, never been struck by him.

I was confused.

Lost.

Unable to understand what I had done to deserve that.

He looked down at me, his eyes cold, unforgiving.

Then he spoke.

“Know your place,” he said calmly.

“And do not argue.”

Those words…

They pierced straight through my soul.

It felt like a knife — no, a sword — stabbing me again and again, deeper each time.

Know your place.

I lowered my head, shaking, tears silently falling.

In that moment, I finally understood.

This punishment wasn’t just about pain.

It was about breaking pride.

And for the first time since all of this began…

Edward Keepers Vains felt truly powerless.