The black luxury car glided through the tarred road, and Olivia watched as her world transformed into a shimmering vista of wealth and privilege. The road leading to the Westmore mansion was a winding ribbon of smooth pavement, lined with manicured trees and ornate street lights. The car itself was a marvel of engineering, its leather seats plush and inviting, the interior a study in minimalist elegance.
They turned off the main road, and the world opened up before her like a dreamscape. The Westmore mansion rose out of the landscape like a stone-and-glass cathedral, its architecture a mixture of classic and modern. It was even more beautiful than the images she had searched for online.
The grounds were like paradise, dotted with fountains and sculptures, the manicured hedges framing a glittering pool. It was a world of wealth and beauty, utterly alien to the life she had just left behind.
As their ride came to a halt, the driver opened the door with a practiced flair, revealing a liveried chauffeur waiting to receive them. The man's expression was polite but reserved, his demeanor impeccably professional as he held out a hand to help Olivia from the vehicle.
Olivia stepped out, cradling Molly against her chest. She was dressed in a flowing gown of ethereal silk, the delicate fabric skimming her curves with a fluid grace.
He opened the door of the mansion, revealing a room that was as exquisite as it was intimidating.
The foyer was a marble-floored expanse, the walls adorned with priceless works of art. The chandelier overhead was a masterpiece of crystal and light, casting shimmering patterns across the room.
She took a tentative step inside, her heart racing. She felt like a trespasser in a foreign land, her shoes sinking into the plush carpet as she took in the surroundings. Molly, sensing unfamiliar terrains, pressed herself more firmly against her chest.
Her eyes captured the sweeping staircase, her breath catching in her throat. It was a grand, curving work of art that rose like a spiral of polished wood.. Somewhere in the depths of the house, she could hear the faint strains of classical music, as if the mansion itself were alive with a heartbeat all its own.
A woman appeared from around the corner, rushing to her side. She was dressed in a simple black dress and a white apron, her graying hair pulled back in a bun.
Her gaze was shrewd and calculating, her expression professional as she took in Olivia's appearance. "Welcome home, Madam" she said, her voice sharp and efficient.
Olivia nodded, her throat dry and unsure of how to act or what to say.
The housekeeper's soft, ample body cushioned Olivia's own slender frame as she guided her to the second floor of the mansion. "You must be tired from your trip," she said, her voice warm, but still tinged with a hint of something she couldn't quite place. ''I will prepare you a hot bath.''
She was led down a hallway lined with richly-carved wooden doors and she couldn't help but wonder if the woman knew that she was an imposter, that she was not the real Mrs Westmore. Her nerves jangled, her fingers gripping Molly tighter.
They stepped into one of the rooms in the hallway, and she was struck by the sheer opulence of the space. The walls were a rich shade of burgundy, the floor a polished hardwood that gleamed in the soft light. The bed was a four-poster monstrosity, its dark wood and plush fabrics evoking images of a royal bedchamber.
A large window overlooked a manicured garden, where stone statues stood with stoic dignity. The room was both imposing and inviting, a strange mix of luxury and old-world charm.
''Mr Westmore has gone out of town for a business meeting,'' the housekeeper said from the bathroom. ''I've been put in charge of seeing to it that you are well settled and that you fit into your role without troubles.''
It was a relief to Olivia that the housekeeper knew who she really was. Her eyes flickered to the housekeeper's profile as she busied herself with the bath. ''That's great.'' She said, contemplating if she could join Molly on the inviting bed.
The housekeeper's hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their task, the rhythm of her movements betraying nothing of her thoughts. "Good," she said, her voice curt but not unkind. "I am to ensure that you are well-prepared for your duties."
***
The patter of rain against the window pane was deafening. Olivia shot upright in bed as she tried to make sense of where she was. The room had only a faint source of light. She reached out to Molly, her fingers gently brushing against the cat's silky coat. Molly purred in response, the sound breaking through the night's silence like a beacon in the dark.
Her stomach growled in violent protest. She was hungry. She searched for the time on her phone. It was a few minutes past 1am. She frowned. Why hadn't she been woken up for supper?
Her feet hit the plush bedside rug with a quiet thud, as she resolved in her mind to get some food..
The kitchen had to be downstairs, she thought as she quietly left her room.
Each door she passed was shut, the air inside the house stagnant and heavy, as if the very walls were holding their breath. She found the kitchen a few moments later. The door was open but it was dark inside with a soft gleam of light coming from a distance. She walked in, as she tried to flick the light on her phone. Her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of a figure, his shape like a ghost in the dim light. He was resting against a table in the kitchen, the light from his phone revealing his face partially. He had seen her enter the kitchen.
Olivia froze for a few seconds before she decided to turn around to flee.
The figure stood straight and walked towards the light switch in the kitchen. Light flooded the space between them.