Celeste stood trembling in the kitchen, her hands still wet from scrubbing the dishes. Aunt Lillian loomed over her, her sharp features twisted into a look of cold disdain. In her hand was a pristine white card with the name "Armon" etched in gold lettering.
"You leave tomorrow," Aunt Lillian declared, shoving the card into Celeste's hand. Her tone was sharp and final, brooking no argument.
Celeste blinked at the card, confusion and dread coiling in her chest. "Aunt Lillian… what is this?" she asked softly, her voice shaking.
"It's the job you're taking," Lillian said coldly. "You'll be working at the Armon mansion."
The words hit Celeste like a blow. She took a step back, her legs weak beneath her. "No," she whispered, panic rising in her throat. "I can't… I've heard stories about him… Zhypher Armon. He's..."
"Angry? Cruel? A tyrant?" Lillian interrupted with a dark laugh, her eyes glinting with something almost like satisfaction. "Good. Then you know exactly what you're walking into."
Celeste shook her head vehemently, clutching the card tightly. "Please, Aunt Lillian, I can't do this. He'll throw me out—or worse."
Lillian's face hardened, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don't have a choice, Celeste. You think you can stay here forever? You're a burden, nothing more. If you don't take this job, you'll find yourself out on the streets. Is that what you want?"
Celeste's breath hitched. She looked down at the card, her hands trembling. "But… why me?"
Lillian smirked, her tone dripping with venom. "Because you're perfect for the job. Someone like you won't last a week in that house, but the money still comes to me regardless."
The cold realization sank in like a stone. Lillian wasn't sending her to escape her cruel household—she was sending her to punish her, to trap her in an even worse nightmare.
"If you dare think about running," Lillian added, leaning in close, "you'll regret it. You leave tomorrow morning. Be ready."
---
The next morning, Celeste stood at the gates of the Armon mansion, her heart pounding in her chest. The sprawling estate loomed before her, its towering walls and gleaming windows exuding wealth and power. A sleek black car sat in the driveway, its polished surface reflecting the morning sun.
She clutched her bag tightly, her knuckles white, as the gates opened with an ominous creak. A man with graying hair and a composed demeanor approached her. His sharp eyes softened slightly as they fell on her.
"You must be Celeste," he said, his voice calm yet firm. "I'm Martin Armon, Zhypher's uncle."
Celeste nodded quickly, unable to find her voice.
"Come," Martin said, motioning for her to follow. "I'll take you to Zhypher. He's expecting you."
Celeste followed silently, her eyes darting around the grand hallways of the mansion. Every corner of the house seemed designed to intimidate, from the towering ceilings to the cold, marble floors.
They stopped in front of a large wooden door. Martin knocked twice before opening it.
"Uncle Martin," Zhypher's deep voice called from within, calm but laced with authority. "Come in."
Martin led Celeste inside, and she found herself standing in a grand study. Behind a massive desk sat Zhypher Armon, his piercing gray eyes fixed on a stack of papers. The room was bathed in dim light, the heavy drapes drawn partially closed.
Zhypher looked up slowly, his gaze locking onto Celeste. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
"This is the new maid, Celeste Cameron," Martin said, his tone formal. "She's here to take care of your mother."
Zhypher leaned back in his chair, his sharp features unreadable as he studied her. "The 157th," he said finally, his voice low and cold. "Impressive. You've already outlasted most of them just by showing up."
Celeste's eyes widened in shock. The 157th? She had heard of many maids coming and going from this house, but never this many. The number seemed impossible, yet there it was—right in front of her. She gripped her bag tighter, her throat constricting.
Zhypher stood, his tall frame commanding the room. He took a step closer to her, his eyes narrowing. "Do you think you can handle it here?" he asked, his tone mocking.
She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.
Zhypher's lips curled into a smirk. "Speechless. Typical."
"Zhypher," Martin interjected calmly, his voice carrying a hint of warning. "Let her settle in first."
Zhypher glanced at his uncle, his expression unreadable, before turning back to Celeste. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice hardening. "This house is not a place for the weak. If you're here to waste my time, leave now. If you stay, I expect perfection. No mistakes, no excuses. Fail me, and you'll wish you hadn't."
Celeste's heart raced, but her feet remained rooted to the spot. She couldn't even nod, her fear paralyzing her.
"Take her to her room," Zhypher said to Martin, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
Martin placed a gentle hand on Celeste's shoulder, guiding her out of the room. "Don't let him scare you," he said quietly as they walked. "He's harsh, but he has his reasons. Focus on your duties, and you'll be fine."
Celeste didn't respond, her mind swirling with fear and uncertainty. She had stepped into a lion's den, and there was no way out.