Chapter 1: Shadows in the Mansion
A fine rain drizzled down, casting the huge gardens before the mansion in shades of silver and gray. Emilia clutched her threadbare coat tightly around her, her gaze rising to the towering silhouette of the house ahead. The mansion was a sight to rival anything she had ever seen-things that, with its arched windows and intricate stone carvings, seemed to leap straight from the pages of some storybook beautiful yet forbidding.
"This is it," she whispered, her breath clouding in the cool evening air.
With trembling hands, she pushed open the wrought-iron gates and made her way toward the grand entrance. The estate had been her last hope after months of searching for steady work. She'd heard whispers in town about the mysterious owner-a reclusive billionaire known for his eccentricity and wealth-but no one seemed to know much else. Emilia didn't care. All that mattered was the promise of a paycheck to help her struggling family.
The heavy oak door creaked open before she could knock, revealing a tall, stern-looking woman with silver hair pulled into a severe bun. Her sharp eyes scanned Emilia from head to toe.
"You're late," the woman said curtly, stepping aside to let her in.
"I—I'm sorry," Emilia stammered, her cheeks flushing. "The bus was delayed, and the rain—"
I don't want to hear any excuses," the woman cut in, "Mrs. Crane, head housekeeper. Come with me."
Emilia followed on her heels, her soaked shoes squeaking on marble surfaces. Inside, the house was even grander than she had imagined. Crystal chandeliers above a beautiful rich mahogany and ornaments like rugs that were too grand to step on glowed warmly.
Mrs. Crane led her through a labyrinth of hallways before stopping abruptly. "Your quarters," she said, opening a narrow door that revealed a small but tidy room. "You'll start work tomorrow morning at six sharp. Breakfast is at five thirty. Do not be late."
"Yes, ma'am," Emilia replied, nodding quickly.
Mrs. Crane cast her one last scrutinizing glance before executing a heel turn and disappearing down the hallway. Emilia blew out a deep breath, her shoulders slumping in relief.
The room was spartan: a single bed, a small dresser, and a window overlooking the gardens. It wasn't much, but at least it was hers, for now. She set her small bag on the bed and sank down beside it, letting the day's exhaustion wash over her.
Her mind drifted as her gaze settled out the rain-streaked window. She had yet to catch a glimpse of the mansion owner, and part of her was even more curious about this man who would live in such grandeur. Still, the townspeople had spoken of him with both a mixture of awe and unease, sending shivers up her spine.
She shook herself from these thoughts and began preparing for bed, hopeful for a better beginning come morning.
The next morning came far too quickly. Emilia scrambled to get ready, her nerves twisting into knots as she hurried down the stairs. The other staff barely glanced at her as they moved efficiently through the grand dining room, setting an elaborate table for breakfast.
"New girl." A voice startled her, and she turned to see a young maid with a friendly smile. "I'm Clara. You look lost.
"I am," Emilia admitted, grateful for the kindness.
Clara handed her a tray loaded with silverware. "Stick with me, and you'll be fine. Just don't get on Mrs. Crane's bad side. Or his."
"His?" Emilia asked, her curiosity piqued.
Clara's smile faltered. "Mr. Dorian Vale. The owner. He's… well, you'll see."
Emilia didn't have time to press further before Mrs. Crane barked an order, and they both sprang into action.
It wasn't until mid-afternoon that Emilia finally caught a glimpse of him. She had been dusting the grand staircase when a chill ran down her spine. Turning, she saw him standing at the base of the stairs, his piercing gaze locked onto her.
Dorian Vale was every bit as intimidating as she'd imagined. Tall and imposing, with sharp features and jet-black hair that seemed to absorb the light. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, exuding wealth and power. But it was his eyes that unnerved her the most-cold and unreadable, like twin pools of darkness.
"Who are you?" His voice was low, smooth, and utterly commanding.
"E-Emilia," she stammered, clutching the feather duster tightly.
A faint smirk tugged the corner of his lip as though her nervousness finally amuses him. "New, I see. Try not to break anything."
Just as she was working her voice up to speak a response, he did a smart about-face and strode away, leaving echoing footfalls down the hallway.
Emilia let a trembling breath out, her racing heartbeat slowing. She didn't quite know what she was prepared for, but not that.
She couldn't get the image of him out of her mind for the rest of the day. There was something unsettling about the way he had looked at her, as if he could see right through her.
Little did she know, her life
was about to change in ways she could never have imagined.