Emily froze for a moment, taken aback—but she recovered quickly.
The man before her was undeniably handsome, his eyes shimmering as he flashed her a warm smile.
"Welcome, Emily," he greeted, his voice rich with expression.
This must be Warren Adams!
Emily forced a polite smile, though something about the atmosphere felt... off.
"Thank you," she replied, determined to be as courteous as possible.
Charles, standing beside him, suddenly stepped in. His hand landed firmly on Warren's shoulder, his voice cool and unreadable.
"This is my brother, Warren," he said. "He is your young master."
The smirk that followed—subtle yet knowing—sent a strange chill through Emily.
Unlike Charles's guarded demeanor, Warren radiated warmth. His smile was genuine, his eyes bright with life.
He had been like this before the accident.
Charles noticed the change, and for the first time in a while, he felt a flicker of satisfaction.
Though he wasn't fond of the girl he had chosen, all that mattered was Warren's recovery.
Emily's presence was already stirring something in his brother.
He just hoped he could tolerate her in his home—because tolerance wasn't in his nature.
Not for anyone.
Not except for Warren.
She had better behave.
"Nice to meet you, sir... boss... master..."
Emily winced internally.
Why did I say that?!
The awkwardness was palpable, but it was too late to take it back.
Suddenly, the room erupted in laughter.
Warren laughed heartily, his amusement filling the space.
Emily, caught off guard, glanced between him and Charles, hoping for some sort of rescue.
Charles, however, remained indifferent, merely watching her with blank disinterest.
"Warren..."
Through his laughter, Warren finally managed to compose himself.
It was the best laugh he had had since the accident.
"Just call me Warren," he said gently, wiping at his misty eyes.
"But..."
Emily hesitated.
It felt wrong to call him that.
He was a young master.
He was Charles's brother.
He was her boss, and she was merely a servant.
It was awkward—too casual.
She turned to Charles, silently pleading for guidance.
He simply nodded.
She sighed in defeat.
"Well... War—Warren it is." She forced a small smile. "Please, just call me Emi."
Warren's wheelchair hummed softly as he moved toward her, stopping about half a meter away.
He extended his hand.
"Nice meeting you, Emi."
His voice was light, but there was an undeniable excitement in it.
Emily hesitated, glancing at his outstretched palm.
But as her gaze flicked to Charles, she caught his disapproving frown.
And just like that, she gave in.
She shook Warren's hand.
To her surprise, he held on longer than expected.
"I believe you are the one who can cure me," Warren murmured before finally releasing her.
Emily's heart skipped a beat.
There was something about his words—about the way he said them—that sent shivers down her spine.
After the brief exchange, Charles turned and strode out of the room, Emily trailing behind.
Outside, two maids stood waiting, their heads respectfully bowed.
Without sparing her another glance, Charles instructed them to take her to her room.
Then, without hesitation, he walked away.
Emily's eyes followed him instinctively.
She was too curious.
Where was his room?
What did it look like?
What did his bed look like?
What did he look like when he slept?
"Ms. Emi, please follow us."
One of the maids spoke, snapping Emily from her thoughts.
"Ah—"
Embarrassment flushed through her as she quickly ran forward to join them.
One of the maids offered her a friendly smile.
The other?
Not so much.
Emily remained unfazed, flashing a warm smile at the kind maid.
"What's your name?" she asked, her tone equally friendly.
"Ms. Emi, my name is Lizzy… Lizzy Miller, but you can call me Liz," the maid replied with a bright expression. "These are your uniforms and some extra clothes, along with basic necessities you may need." She handed Emily a large white box.
Emily accepted it with a grateful nod.
"It's nice to meet you, Liz. Hope we can be friends."
Liz's warm energy was reassuring, unlike the other maid standing beside her, whose face remained unreadably stoic.
Deciding to ignore the tension, Emily opted not to ask for her name.
"This is Rebecca… Rebecca Lewk," Liz interjected, sensing the unspoken discomfort.
Emily glanced at Rebecca and offered a polite smile.
Rebecca, however, remained silent.
"Let's finish this quickly. It's too late for chit-chat," Rebecca muttered curtly as she swung open the door to Emily's room. "We haven't slept just to wait for another maid."
Her tone was laced with mockery.
Emily heard it loud and clear.
Instantly, she knew Rebecca wasn't going to make things easy.
Before stepping inside, she turned to the woman with an unwavering gaze.
"If that's a problem, blame your young master, Charles. He brought me here at this hour," Emily stated firmly. "Or, I can tell him directly for you."
Her words dripped with sarcasm.
Liz's eyes widened slightly.
This girl isn't easily intimidated, she thought, impressed.
Rebecca scoffed, her brow twitching upward.
"Who do you think you are?" she snapped, crossing her arms. "You're just a maid like us, so don't think you're special just because he brought you here."
She chuckled dryly, her smirk cold.
"You're just a pawn. I bet you won't last a week—just like the others before you. So stop your ridiculous daydreaming."
Her laugh was sharp, belittling.
"Rebecca, enough," Liz interjected, her voice firm.
Emily simply raised a hand in Liz's direction, signaling her to stand down.
She had faced worse challenges in her life.
This rude maid was nothing.
"We'll see about that, Rebecca," Emily replied smoothly, her voice calm but laced with sarcasm. "I'll try my best to last more than a week—I have no intention of embarrassing myself."
She offered Rebecca a tight-lipped smile before delivering her final remark.
"And thanks for the warning, but next time? Mind your own business."
Without waiting for a response, Emily winked at Liz and shut the door behind her.
That night, she set the selfie of her and Charles as her wallpaper.
She beamed at the sight of it and planted a playful kiss on the screen.
Rolling onto her bed, she hugged her pillow, giggling softly.
She was inside Charles's mansion.
A brand-new chapter of her life had begun—one with her darling superstar.
The next morning, Emily was still caught in her dream.
"Oh, Charles, I love you so much!" she murmured in her sleep, her radiant smile revealing the heart of a woman in love.
"I love you more, Emily," Charles replied in her dream, his voice laced with warmth.
They held hands, laughing, basking in the sun…
Until her alarm shattered the illusion.
Startled, she shot up, then hurried to shower before heading to the kitchen to retrieve Warren's breakfast from his dietitian.
She didn't have to cook—meals for the family were prepared meticulously by a personal chef and dietitian.
The maids had their own separate kitchen.
"Good morning, Emi!" Liz greeted cheerfully.
"Good morning, Liz!" Emily returned the smile, equally bright.
Rebecca, on the other hand, released an exaggerated yawn—clearly a not-so-subtle reminder that she hadn't gotten enough sleep.
Emily ignored her.
It was a brand-new day.
And she was excited about two things.
First, her graduation was approaching.
Soon, she would earn her degree, secure a professional job, and establish herself as a top-notch architect. With a stable income, she would reclaim her home—even if her father dragged her into court, she'd be ready to fight back.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
Second—she was inside Charles's mansion.
Everything still felt surreal.
She was living with the superstar.
Who would believe that?
Fate had a way of surprising her.
As she stepped out of her room, her eyes instinctively searched for Charles.
He was nowhere in sight.
What a shame.
She giggled to herself, picturing him asleep in his bed, utterly handsome even in slumber.
Walking down the hallway, tray in hand, she hummed softly.
She was the luckiest fan in the universe.
She wanted to take pictures of every corner of Charles's mansion—and that massive portrait of his family—but she dismissed the idea quickly.
There would be a right time for that.
She paused in front of the portrait once more, smiling sweetly.
"Good morning, Mom!"
"Good morning, Dad!"
She greeted them in a whisper before making her way toward the stairs.
Just then, a warm breeze brushed against her skin.
A beige curtain fluttered near the sliding glass door, which had been left ajar.
She hesitated.
Then, curiosity won.
Placing the tray down on a nearby table, she sneaked outside.
The view was breathtaking.
A massive infinity pool gleamed under the soft morning light, framed by lush gardens and towering palm trees.
Vibrant flowers, blue waters, and rich greenery blended perfectly, creating a haven of peace.
Emily sighed, savoring the fresh air—until her gaze locked onto something.
Someone.
A man.
Charles.
She stilled.
Then, panic surged.
He was floating, motionless, face down in the water.
Her stomach flipped.
"Charles!"
She bolted forward.
"Charles! Are you okay?"
"Answer me!"
"Charles! You're making me nervous!"
She couldn't breathe.
"Please answer me!"
But he remained still.
Not a single movement.
Was he—
Had he drowned?
Was he dead?
No! He can't die!
She shoved the horrifying thought aside and jumped into the pool without hesitation.
Her fingers brushed against his muscular arm.
It was firm.
Hard.
God, even wet, he felt electrifying.
Her entire body buzzed with sensation, as if she had touched a live wire.
Then—
"What are you doing?!"
His voice—sharp, laced with rage—ripped through the moment.
Water splashed in every direction as he recoiled, distancing himself from her.
Emily gasped, realizing her mistake.
" I-I'm sorry, Charles! I didn't know you were—"
Her cheeks burned furiously.
She was so doomed.
"Charles?!"
His brows furrowed at her informal use of his name, his expression unforgiving.
But then—
His gaze drifted downward.
To her wet, clingy dress.
And the undeniable shape of her curves beneath it.
Charles's Adam's apple bobbed slightly.