The black car rolled silently up the winding driveway, its polished surface reflecting the gray morning sky. Mia's hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles white, as her heart raced. Every turn of the road brought her closer to the mansion that could save her mother — or break her entirely.
The Lawrence Estate appeared like something out of a storybook — tall iron gates, glimmering marble fountains, and sprawling lawns so perfectly trimmed they seemed unreal. The mansion itself loomed at the end of the driveway, dark yet elegant, towering above her like a sentinel guarding secrets she wasn't sure she wanted to uncover.
Mrs. Lawrence appeared at the top of the marble steps, silver hair pinned neatly, pale silk robe flowing lightly around her. "You came," she said, voice calm but firm. "Good. Follow me."
Mia stepped out of the car and swallowed hard, forcing herself to walk steadily. Her stomach fluttered violently, nerves buzzing in her chest like tiny wings. She followed Mrs. Lawrence through the massive double doors and into the house.
The interior was breathtaking. Chandeliers hung from the soaring ceilings, casting prismatic light across polished marble floors. Paintings of stern ancestors stared down from the walls, their eyes seeming to judge her every move. The faint scent of cedar and a sterile tang of medicine filled the air, and Mia shivered slightly, realizing just how cold and orderly this place felt.
As they walked, Mrs. Lawrence spoke softly. "The mansion already has staff. Daytime maids clean while the master is away, and the chefs cook early in the morning. But you should know — he rarely eats at home. Most of the time, he prefers solitude."
Mia nodded, her throat dry. "I understand."
Mrs. Lawrence led her through the halls, explaining each wing with quiet pride. The east wing contained guest rooms, the west wing the staff quarters. Portraits of the Lawrence family lined the corridors, silent witnesses to decades of wealth and power.
Finally, they arrived at a heavy wooden door at the end of a long hallway. Mrs. Lawrence's voice softened. "This is his room. My son… he is unlike anyone you have met. He has not walked in four years. The accident changed him, not just physically, but… emotionally. Approach him with care."
Mia's stomach clenched. She had imagined difficult jobs before, but nothing had prepared her for this. She nodded, trying to steady her racing heart.
Mrs. Lawrence opened the door.
The room was massive, dimly lit by thick curtains drawn to block most of the sunlight. Bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, a grand piano sat quietly in the corner, and the faint scent of cedar mixed with something medicinal, sharp and cold.
At the far end, in a wheelchair, sat a young man. Jet-dark hair slightly messy, jaw sharp and commanding, gray eyes that seemed to pierce straight through her. He did not move or speak; he simply watched, silent and unyielding.
"I told you I don't need another caretaker," his voice came out flat, clipped, almost cold.
"She's not a caretaker," Mrs. Lawrence replied, calm but firm. "She's the maid. She will see to the house and your meals."
"I don't need a maid either," he said, turning slightly in his wheelchair, gray eyes fixed on her. They were sharp, assessing, and utterly uninviting.
Mia's throat tightened, but she stepped forward carefully. "Sir, I… I can help. I'll do my best. Please."
He stared at her for a long moment, unreadable, before turning slightly away. "You'll quit by the end of the week. They all do."
Mia's chest tightened, but she forced a calm, firm voice. "I won't."
A humorless smile curved his lips, almost imperceptible. "We'll see."
After their brief encounter, Mrs. Lawrence left her in the room, telling her she would start work officially tomorrow morning. Her luggage and clothes were not yet in the mansion, so she would stay the night as a guest.
The butler returned shortly after, a tall, solemn man with precise movements. "Allow me to show you around," he said. Over the next hour, Mia walked through wings she had never imagined: the kitchen bustling in the early morning, the garden with fountains and hidden pathways, the staff quarters where the maids prepared for their day. She noticed how disciplined everything was, how quiet, how precise.
The mansion, she realized, was beautiful almost painfully so but it felt empty. Cold. Like a fortress protecting its secrets. And somewhere deep inside, she knew the master of this house would be the hardest part to navigate.
As night fell, Mia sat quietly in the guest room, listening to the silence that enveloped the mansion. Outside, the wind rustled through the trimmed hedges, but inside, every corner seemed to hold its breath.
She thought of her mother, alone in a hospital bed, and felt her determination harden. She had survived hardship before, and she would survive this whatever it took.
Tomorrow, her real test would begin.