Jasper helped lower Abigail's bags from the car. A neat line of servants stood outside the mansion, waiting. At their center was a middle-aged man who looked unmistakably like the butler — dressed in black pants, a crisp white shirt, and a black sleeveless jacket.
Beside him stood several young women, their beauty almost unsettling. They wore white gowns that stopped just above the knee, black aprons tied neatly at their waists, and matching white maid caps. Long white socks hugged their legs, ending at the knee above polished black shoes.
They didn't look like servants.
They looked like porcelain dolls… living, breathing, perfectly presented.
This — all of this — was Aurora's doing. She wanted to see if her son had any particular interest in women. And now that he was married, a wardrobe change for the maids was already in her plans.
The servants bowed deeply the moment Abigail stepped out. She bowed back, unfazed by the sudden reverence.
A bodyguard rushed forward to carry her bags.
"Oh, my sweet daughter-in-law!" Aurora's voice rang from the doorway, warm and unrestrained. She swept toward Abigail with arms open wide.
The servants remained bowing as Aurora wrapped Abigail in a soft, motherly hug.
"Welcome to your new home — your husband's house," she announced proudly. "Thank you for coming, my darling."
"Hmmm," was all Abigail could manage.
"Quick, bring her bags inside," Aurora ordered. The guards hurried away.
"Where should we keep the bags, ma'am?" the butler asked.
"What kind of question is that? Put them in my son's room."
"Ma'am… the master's room is locked."
"Locked?" Aurora frowned.
"Yes, ma'am."
She sighed and turned to Abigail with a smile. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I'll sort this out."
With a graceful gesture, she invited Abigail inside before sweeping upstairs with the guards.
Abigail inhaled sharply the moment she stepped through the doors.
The outside had stunned her — but the inside…
the inside was a realm of its own.
The mansion itself had already looked like a carved masterpiece. Its giant white stone pillars guarded the entrance like ancient sentinels. Black marble steps led to tall double doors made of polished obsidian wood etched with silver patterns that shimmered under the sunlight.
Black-and-white flowers lined the walkway — white roses paired with black tulips, arranged in perfect symmetry. Even the air seemed expensive, as though luxury had its own scent.
THE INTERIOR — a breathtaking monochrome paradise
Inside, Abigail felt as if she'd walked into a celestial gallery designed by someone obsessed with perfection.
The living room glittered like a constellation suspended in air.
Every corner was a black-and-white masterpiece — an elegant duel between night and purity.
Black silk curtains flowed like midnight waterfalls. The couches — deep, plush, glowing under warm lights — looked like thrones carved for royalty. Polished black floors reflected the chandelier above like a mirror of stars.
White walls stretched endlessly, flawless as fresh snow.
The staircase was an artwork: white marble vines twined into the railing, while the steps shimmered black under every footstep. Windows tinted with dark glass caught sunlight and transformed it into gentle shadows that danced across the room.
Every door was polished black, gleaming like obsidian.
He must really love black and white, Abigail thought.
This is… unreal.
Even the house itself breathed — lights adjusting automatically, windows sliding open on their own, the temperature shifting to embrace her. She sat on a couch expecting firmness — instead, it sank around her like warm clouds.
She gasped.
If the couch feels like this… how heavenly must the bed be?
"Oh my God," she whispered.
She was still taking in the beauty when the man she saw earlier — the butler — approached with three maids behind him, one holding a bottle of wine.
"Greetings, milady," he said with a respectful bow.
Milady? Abigail blinked.
"I'm Butler Martin. Welcome to the mansion."
He took the bottle and prepared to open it.
"No — thank you, but I'd prefer some juice."
"Of course, milady. I will get it immediately."
He vanished and reappeared seconds later with a glass of fresh orange juice.
"Thank you," Abigail said softly.
"You're welcome, milady."
Another bow — and he was gone.
That was fast, she thought, sipping.
"This is sweet."
Aurora returned moments later, glowing.
"My darling, everything is ready."
"Okay," Abigail replied.
"Do you like the juice? Butler—"
"No, mother. I like it."
"Good. Remember, whatever you need is already here. You don't even have to ask." Aurora took her hand gently. "Listen… Sullivan isn't home, and his room is locked. Only he has the key. So I asked them to place your bags in the room opposite his. When he returns—"
"No, mother," Abigail cut in softly.
"I think I'll stay there for now."
"Alright, if you wish. But you know why you're here. And you know what's at stake." Aurora squeezed her hand. "Sullivan… he is difficult. I birthed him, yet sometimes I don't know what he has become. Abigail… I'm trusting you to tame him. Not by force — with love."
"I'll do my best, mother. But… what about my parents?"
"They will be fine. I give you my word."
"Butler Martin!" Aurora called.
He appeared instantly.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Assemble the maids. I have an announcement."
He bowed and left.
"Come," Aurora said softly.
They stepped outside. The servants stood in a perfect line, heads bowed.
"I called you all to properly introduce the lady before you," Aurora said.
"This is my son's wife — Abigail Morpheus. From today onward, she is your lady. Any disrespect toward her… you will not only be fired, you will not see another sunrise. Let this be advice and warning."
Every servant stiffened.
"The rules remain the same," Aurora continued, "but your dress code will change. The master is married now — no exposed clothing. Do you all understand?"
"Yes, ma'am!" they chorused, voices loud and precise.
"Martin, ensure the master's wife lacks nothing."
"Yes, ma'am."
Aurora turned to Abigail. "Do you have anything to say?" She asked.
"No.. no I don't." She replied honestly.
"Okay. Do your best."
"I will, mother. Thank you."
"There's no need to thank me, dear." Aurora smiled warmly and walked her toward the car.
The servants bowed.
"Thank you, ma'am. Drive safely."
Aurora handed Abigail a sleek credit card. Abigail tried refusing, but Aurora insisted.
"Buy anything you want. If you need anything, go to your husband. And here—" she placed a small card in Abigail's hand, "—our home address. Anytime you need help, come to us. You're not alone."
"Thank you so much, mother."
"Take care."
The guard shut the car door behind her, and as the car drove off, silence fell like a cold blanket.
Abigail suddenly felt very, very alone.
"Missing her already?" a voice teased.
She jumped — Jasper.
He laughed lightly. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."
"Oh yes, you did."
"I'm really sorry," he chuckled. Then sighed. "Well… I have to go too."
"What? You're leaving? How can I stay here with people I barely know?"
"With time, you'll know them like you know me." He smiled and walked toward his car.
"Can't you stay a little longer?"
"I wish I could. But Sullivan just called — I need to return to the office."
Abigail's stomach tightened.
"Alright. Take care."
"You too. And don't forget — you got this!" He flexed his arm dramatically before driving off.
And then… she was alone again.
Surrounded by strangers.
"Would you like something to eat, milady?"
Butler Martin's calm grey eyes met her dark ones.
"No, thank you. I want to rest first."
"Very well. A maid will show you your room."
"This way, milady," a girl around her age said softly.
They climbed the stairs to a long hallway lined with evenly spaced paintings. The rug beneath them shimmered black and silver under the soft lights.
"This house is big," Abigail whispered as they passed the first, second, and third rooms.
At the fourth door, the maid stopped and pointed across.
"This is your room, milady. Your belongings are inside."
"Oh. Thank you," Abigail said as she stepped in.
And for the first time since she arrived…
she finally closed a door behind her.