The Lacroix estate loomed large as Isabella Moreau approached the gates. She tightened her grip on the small bag she carried, her palms slightly damp with anticipation. The house was enormous, its marble steps and polished columns reflecting the morning sun. From the outside, it looked like perfection itself, but Isabella knew better than to judge by appearances.
A maid appeared almost immediately, her expression polite but alert. "You must be Miss Moreau. Welcome to the Lacroix residence. Please follow me." Isabella nodded, keeping her posture straight, her steps careful on the marble floor. She had come here to work, not to be dazzled by wealth or charm. Her goal was simple: prove herself capable, efficient, and discreet.
As they walked through the hallways, Isabella's eyes wandered over the opulence: family portraits, chandeliers, and priceless decorations. Everything had a story, every object seemed meticulously chosen. She felt a mix of awe and resolve. She would need to learn not just how to work here but how to navigate the subtle rules and expectations that governed this household.
The maid led her to the kitchen. Isabella paused at the threshold, taking in the vast space. Stainless steel appliances gleamed under the sunlight streaming from the tall windows. Counters were spotless, the scent of herbs faint but comforting. This would be her domain. She would organize it, manage the staff, and ensure everything ran smoothly.
"You will be responsible for preparing meals for the family and overseeing the kitchen staff," the maid said, her eyes sharp as if testing her. "The master and mistress are often occupied. They expect discretion, efficiency, and intelligence."
"I understand," Isabella replied calmly. "I will do my best."
Her words seemed to satisfy the maid, who nodded and stepped back. Just then, a shadow fell across the kitchen. Isabella looked up to see Edmond Lacroix, the patriarch, standing quietly in the doorway. His presence was commanding, yet calm, like a man used to being obeyed without having to demand it.
"Miss Moreau," he said, his voice steady and measured. "I hear you come highly recommended. I trust that is true?"
"Yes, sir," Isabella answered, keeping her voice polite and confident. "I have experience managing kitchens and preparing meals efficiently. I am careful with household operations and will maintain discretion at all times."
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. We shall see how you manage your first day."
Before Isabella could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the kitchen. Camille Lacroix appeared, her expression curious and slightly disdainful. She looked Isabella over as if she were examining a new object. "So this is the cook they told me about?" she asked, her tone flat but laced with entitlement.
"Yes, Miss Lacroix," Isabella replied, standing tall. "I am Isabella Moreau. I will be overseeing the kitchen and meals for the household."
Camille's eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before she flicked her hair back and wandered off, clearly unimpressed. Isabella exhaled silently. The girl was spoiled, entitled, and used to the world revolving around her. She would have to be careful in her interactions, but she was not afraid.
The hours passed as Isabella familiarized herself with the kitchen, noting the staff routines, ingredient storage, and preferences for meals. She worked efficiently, quietly observing minor tensions among the staff and the household's subtle rules. Lucien's presence, though not yet seen, was hinted at by whispers and cautious glances from the staff. Mathis's absence was equally noticeable, his detachment evident even in minor conversations.
By mid-afternoon, Adrien Lacroix appeared in the kitchen. He was tall and composed, his movements precise and measured. He did not speak immediately, only observing Isabella as she worked. There was an air of authority about him, calm but unmistakable, and Isabella could sense his intelligence and attentiveness. He did not acknowledge her formally, but the silent scrutiny was enough to make her aware of his presence.
Adrien inclined his head slightly, as if acknowledging her competence without needing words. Isabella returned the gesture with a small, polite nod. That was all. No conversation, no interaction beyond recognition. She focused back on her work, noting his silent presence as a subtle reminder that she was being watched, tested even.
As evening approached, Isabella finished organizing the kitchen for the night. Every utensil was in place, counters wiped spotless, and instructions given clearly to the staff. It had been a long, exhausting first day, but she felt a quiet satisfaction. She had navigated her first hours without faltering, and without letting intimidation or the family's hierarchy shake her composure.
Stepping outside briefly to breathe the evening air, she allowed herself a small smile. The Lacroix estate was vast, controlled, and intimidating. It was also a place full of potential, challenges, and opportunities. This was her first step inside a world very different from her own. She would need her wits, patience, and skill to survive here, but she was ready.
For Isabella, the estate was no longer just a workplace. It was a stage, and she intended to play her part with intelligence, calm, and determination. The real tests had only just begun.