A Rose by Any Other Name

The grand hall was a fading memory as Grace practically dragged Lily through the sprawling gardens of Volkov Manor. The crisp morning air offered little solace as Grace's grip tightened, her venomous words dripping like poison.

"This," she hissed, flinging Lily onto the damp earth floor of the greenhouse with a cruel laugh, "is just the beginning, little flower. You haven't even begun to experience the depths of my displeasure."

Lily, tears stinging her eyes, scrambled to her feet, her already fragile heart pounding against her ribs. Grace, a towering figure bathed in morning sunlight, loomed over her.

"You think you've gotten off easy with Niklaus?" Grace continued, her voice dripping with vindictive glee. "Just wait until I have my way with you." She leaned in close, the scent of her expensive perfume acrid in Lily's nostrils. "You'll be tending these roses until your delicate hands are nothing but callouses and thorns."

Just as Grace opened her mouth to unleash another tirade, a booming voice echoed through the greenhouse. "Miss Grace? There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

Mr. Henderson, the stern yet surprisingly gentle head gardener, stood at the entrance, his brow furrowed in concern. He shuffled closer, his gaze bouncing between Grace and the tearful Lily sprawled on the floor.

"Mr. Henderson," Grace said, her voice sugary sweet compared to its previous venom. "How delightful to see you. I was just explaining the finer points of rose care to our new assistant, Miss Lily."

Lily, seizing on the opportunity offered by Mr. Henderson's presence, scrambled to her feet and brushed the dirt off her dress. "It's lovely to meet you, Mr. Henderson," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Mr. Henderson, oblivious to the tension hanging thick in the air, gave a curt nod. "Indeed, Miss Lily. Welcome to the greenhouse. Master Niklaus informed me you'd be assisting with the roses. Now, where were we, Miss Grace? Wisteria propagation, yes? There's much to learn."

Grace's face contorted in a barely concealed grimace. Her plans for a morning of tormenting Lily had been unexpectedly interrupted. With a forced smile, she said, "Of course, Mr. Henderson. Right this way."

She glided past Mr. Henderson, her anger a simmering pot threatening to boil over. Mr. Henderson, completely oblivious to the silent war brewing in the greenhouse, extended a calloused hand towards Lily.

"Come along, Miss Lily," he said kindly. "Let me show you the secrets of these beauties." He led her away from Grace, toward a far corner of the greenhouse where delicate rose seedlings peeked out from the soil.

As Mr. Henderson began to explain the intricate art of rose care, Lily glanced back at Grace. The woman's face was a mask of fury, her eyes narrowed in a silent threat. Lily shivered, a cold dread settling in her stomach.

But for now, she was safe. Mr. Henderson's unexpected arrival had provided a reprieve, a small bubble of peace in the storm that was her life at Volkov Manor. She clung to that feeling, focusing on the delicate rose seedlings and the gentle voice of the old gardener, a sliver of hope blossoming within her like a fragile rosebud in the springtime sun. The path ahead remained shrouded in darkness, but for the first time since arriving at Volkov Manor, she wasn't alone. And that, in itself, was a reason to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, things could get better.

A triumphant smirk stretched across Grace's face as she strode back into the manor. Lily, banished to the greenhouse, was effectively out of the picture for now. No more worrying about her hovering around Niklaus, no more fear of her stealing the vampire lord's attention. Grace, finally alone with Niklaus, preened at the thought of reasserting her place by his side.

Pushing open the heavy oak doors, she was greeted by the sight of Niklaus standing at the bottom of the grand staircase. His face, however, was not the welcoming sight she had anticipated. Instead, it was a mask of thunder, his obsidian eyes glinting with a dangerous fury.

"Grace," he snarled, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. "What are you waiting for?"

Grace faltered, surprised by the intensity of his displeasure. "Well, I…" she stammered, forcing a smile.

"Who are you waiting for to finish cleaning the rest of this mess?" Niklaus cut in, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm.

"Actually," Grace began, clutching her elbow dramatically, "I'm a little indisposed at the moment. See, this nasty injury…" She winced theatrically, hoping to elicit a flicker of sympathy from the vampire lord.

Niklaus, however, wasn't buying it for a second. His eyes, usually unreadable, narrowed in a way that sent a jolt of fear through her. He had seen right through her flimsy act.

"Before injuring yourself," he said, his voice a cold whisper, "perhaps you should have considered the consequences. Did it not occur to you that the cleaning wouldn't magically complete itself?"

Grace felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. His gaze flickered to the still-bleeding scrape on her arm, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes seemed to flicker from their usual obsidian black to a fiery red.

He quickly reigned it in, the change barely noticeable, but it was enough to send a fresh wave of terror crashing down on Grace. She could not afford to irritate him further, not in this vulnerable state.

"I… I apologize," she stammered, her voice barely a squeak. "But I truly can't continue cleaning in this condition."

Niklaus stared at her for a long, chilling moment. The air crackled with unspoken tension. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low growl.

"Do whatever you have to do," he said dismissively. "Just make sure this manor is spotless by nightfall. I won't tolerate excuses."

With that, he vanished in a blur of movement, leaving Grace trembling in his wake. He hadn't fallen for her ploy, and the red flicker in his eyes was a terrifying reminder of the monster he could become.

Grace gritted her teeth, anger replacing her fear. She may be injured, but she wouldn't give Niklaus the satisfaction of seeing her defeated. She would clean the manor, she would maintain her position, and she would ensure that Lily remained nothing but a thorn in her side, banished to the greenhouse.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Grace grabbed a fresh cleaning cloth. She had work to do. But as she began to scrub, a venomous thought slithered through her mind. Lily might be gone for now, but she wasn't forgotten. Grace would find a way to make sure the little human flower wilted permanently. After all, Volkov Manor had room for only one rose, and it wasn't Lily.

A strangled cry echoed through the grand hall, shattering the tense silence left in Niklaus' wake. Two figures, Amy and Evelyn, burst into the room, dragging a limping Mary by the arms. They threw her unceremoniously onto the cold marble floor at Grace's feet, fear etched on their faces.

Grace, who had been viciously scrubbing at a stubborn stain, whipped her head up, a cruel smile twisting her lips. With a dramatic flourish, she flung the filthy cleaning cloth to the floor, its contents splattering near Mary's tear-streaked face.

"You!" Grace hissed, her voice laced with venom. She slammed her heel onto the back of Mary's hand, pressing down with a sadistic glee. Mary flinched, a choked sob escaping her lips, but Grace didn't relent.

"Stay away from her," Grace growled, her voice low and dangerous. "You think you can protect that little human? Pathetic!" Her eyes blazed with a chilling intensity. "No one can protect Lily from me. Not you, not Niklaus, not anyone."

Mary, tears welling up in her eyes, looked up at Grace, defiance flickering in her gaze despite the pain in her hand. "She's done nothing wrong," she rasped, her voice hoarse.

Grace scoffed. "Nothing wrong?" she echoed, her voice dripping with disdain. "What about the others? The girls you couldn't protect? The ones who vanished before Lily even arrived?"

Mary's face paled, a horrifying realization dawning on her. Grace knew. She knew about the other girls, the ones who had served at Volkov Manor before her.

Seeing Mary's fear, Grace released her hand with a cruel laugh. "Go on," she said, her voice cold. "Pick up that rag and keep cleaning. Consider it your punishment for your… misplaced loyalty."

Mary, her body wracked with sobs, reached for the discarded cleaning cloth. Cleaning wasn't her job; she was the cook. But she knew arguing with Grace would be futile. With a heavy heart, she began the menial task, her mind a whirlwind of worry for Lily.

Grace, meanwhile, watched Mary with a predatory glint in her eyes. She had dealt a blow, a reminder to the cook of her place in Volkov Manor's cruel hierarchy. But Grace wasn't finished yet. Lily, the human flower, would not remain at the greenhouse forever. Grace would find a way to pluck that flower from Niklaus' reach, ensuring her own place as his one and only rose in the vast, decaying garden of Volkov Manor.