The Moretti estate stretched across acres of manicured land, every inch sculpted to reflect wealth and dominance. From the marble fountains to the endless rows of roses imported from Italy, it was a kingdom meant to remind anyone who entered that this family ruled not just the city but everything that touched their world.
And yet, in the middle of all that cold perfection, there was a small pocket of life that seemed untouched by shadows. The garden.
Adrian Moretti stood at the window of his study, whiskey glass balanced loosely in his hand. He wasn't reading the stack of papers his father had left on his desk, nor was he focused on the conversation the men downstairs were having about shipments and territories. His attention had narrowed to a single point outside.
Emma.
She moved among the roses like she didn't belong to this place of stone and iron, like she'd stepped out of another world entirely. Her plain white dress fluttered with the soft breeze, and her dark chestnut hair tumbled over her shoulders as she bent to touch a flower. The morning sun kissed her skin, turning her into something untouchable. Something fragile. Something he didn't deserve and yet couldn't look away from.
Her lips curved into a small, private smile as her fingertips brushed the velvet petals. That smile, unguarded and free of fear, pierced through him sharper than any knife. For a moment, the corners of his own mouth twitched an instinctive, unconscious urge to mirror her joy. He almost smiled.
Almost.
The moment shattered when a figure appeared in the corner of the garden. One of the young estate workers, carrying a bundle of tools, spotted Emma and approached her with an easy grin. Adrian's jaw tightened instantly. His fingers curled around the glass so hard it was a miracle it didn't shatter.
From this distance, he couldn't hear the man's words, but he saw everything the way the worker bowed his head slightly in greeting, the way Emma blinked up at him with those wide honey eyes, shy but attentive. She nodded softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her innocence shining even in the smallest gesture.
Adrian's chest burned. His pulse quickened, and a dangerous darkness rolled over him.
No.
No one had the right to look at her like that. No one had the right to stand that close, to pull her attention, to make her smile.
His hand trembled as he lifted the glass, and with a hiss of fury, he slammed it down on the desk. The crystal cracked, amber liquid spilling across the polished wood. He didn't care. His eyes never left the garden.
Outside, the worker shifted nervously, then said something that made Emma's lips part with a soft laugh. The sound carried faintly through the open window, delicate and pure.
Adrian's breath caught. And then his blood boiled.
That laugh was his. It should be his.
Not anyone else's.
The roses smelled sweeter than she expected. Back home, there had been no gardens like this only dust, broken fences, and the sharp scent of cheap detergent as she scrubbed floors for hours. Here, in this mansion where everything glittered like a dream, even the air felt different. Clean. Expensive.
Emma crouched slightly, her bare feet pressing into the gravel path as she reached for a deep red bloom. The petals were softer than silk beneath her fingertips. She smiled faintly. For just a second, she forgot why she was here, forgot her stepmother's sneer and her father's indifference.
"Beautiful, aren't they?"
Emma startled, turning quickly. A young man stood nearby, holding gardening shears and a small sack of soil. His dark hair was swept back carelessly, his smile kind. Unlike the other staff who always seemed hurried and cold, he looked at her like she was… normal. Not a servant. Not a debt. Just a girl.
"They are," Emma said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've never seen roses like these before."
The man chuckled. "That's because most of them aren't from here. They're imported. Mr. Moretti likes perfection in everything, even flowers." He extended a hand slightly, not too close, just enough to show friendliness. "I'm Alex. I take care of the gardens and sometimes help with deliveries. And you must be the new maid?"
Emma hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Emma." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
"Emma." He repeated her name like it was something sweet. "Well, welcome. I know it can be overwhelming here. If you ever need anything directions, help, or just someone to talk to you can find me in the gardens. Don't hesitate, okay?"
Emma blinked, surprised. No one had spoken to her like that since she arrived. Not with kindness. Not with patience. She felt a small warmth bloom in her chest and nodded quickly. "Thank you, Alex. I'll… I'll remember that."
He smiled wider. "Good."
For a fleeting second, Emma felt lighter. Maybe not everyone here was cruel. Maybe she wouldn't be entirely alone.
But that hope died the moment a sharp voice pierced the air.
"Emma!"
She flinched, spinning around. One of the senior maids stormed toward her, face twisted in anger. Before Emma could move, the woman seized her wrist in a harsh grip.
"What do you think you're doing here?" the maid hissed, shaking her arm. "Did I not tell you the rules? The garden is off-limits for servants! Idiot girl!"
Emma winced, pain shooting up her arm. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know..."
"Silence!" The maid's hand shot out and smacked the back of her head. The sting burned instantly, and tears welled in Emma's eyes. Her lips trembled as she looked down at the gravel, too frightened to defend herself.
"You'll bring shame on the house with your foolishness," the maid continued coldly. "Stay where you belong inside, in the kitchens. Not out here embarrassing us."
Emma bit her lip, her chest tight. She wanted to tell her she hadn't meant harm, that she was only admiring the flowers. But the words stuck in her throat. She could only nod through the tears that blurred her vision.
Alex took a step forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "There's no need to..."
But before he could finish, a new voice cut through the garden like a blade.
Adrian
"Enough."
The word was low, dangerous, and it froze everyone in place.
From the stone steps above, Adrian Moretti descended slowly, every step deliberate. His presence commanded the space, dark and suffocating. His sharp jaw was set, his eyes locked not on the maid who held Emma, but on Emma herself.
The senior maid immediately released her wrist and bowed low, trembling. "Y-Young Master, forgive me. She was out of place..."
"Silence." Adrian's tone brooked no argument. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze never wavering from Emma. She stood frozen, wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her lips trembling. The faint red mark on her head made something savage coil inside him.
He turned his head slightly. "Lucia."
The older head servant, who had appeared silently at the edge of the garden, stepped forward and bowed. "Yes, Young Master?"
Adrian's voice dropped, low and final. "From today, this maid belongs to me. She will attend only to me. My clothes, my meals, my work. Everything. Do you understand?"
Lucia blinked in surprise. "But, young master she was assigned to the kitchens..."
"I don't care." His eyes narrowed, flicking briefly to the terrified girl in white before snapping back to Lucia. "She's mine now. Send her to my quarters immediately with my clothes. She will learn her duties from there."
Lucia hesitated only a second before bowing deeper. "Yes, Young Master."
Adrian's gaze returned to Emma. She was staring at him, confusion and fear mingling in her honey eyes. He smirked faintly, tilting his head as if he'd just won a game only he knew the rules to.
The garden held its breath. Alex looked between them. The senior maid bowed so low her knees nearly touched the gravel. Emma remained frozen, her chest heaving softly, her innocence shining even through the fear.
Adrian turned sharply, his coat flaring behind him as he walked back toward the mansion.
But inside, behind that controlled smirk, his heart thundered.
He had claimed her.
And nothing and no one would take her from him.
-----
The world Emma had known one of dust-stained floors, harsh words, and the constant shadow of her father's debts was about to shatter in ways she could never have imagined. She had crossed the threshold of the Moretti mansion believing she would serve quietly, invisible and unnoticed, a small shadow among the gilded halls and glittering chandeliers. She had believed she could endure, survive, and perhaps, one day, escape the chains of her father's mistakes.
She did not know, could not yet fathom, that the moment she stumbled into the garden, into the path of Adrian Moretti, her life had been irreversibly altered. The man who watched her from the steps above was no ordinary master, no distant aristocrat content with the obedience of his servants. He was danger and darkness wrapped in perfection, a storm that had spent years raging inside the walls of the city, in clubs and back rooms where women and men alike bent beneath his power.
And now, for reasons he could not explain, he had fixated on her. A simple collision had sparked something primal, a fire he neither understood nor could control. He did not know if it was desire, possession, or the first flickers of something dangerously close to love. He only knew he could not allow her to slip from his sight.
For Emma, the world was suddenly larger and smaller at once. She did not yet understand the gravity of the mansion's hierarchy, nor the weight of the gaze that now followed her every step. She did not know that every small action the way she bent to touch a rose, the quiet tremble of her lips, the instinctive lowering of her eyes had become a commandment in Adrian's mind.
For both of them, nothing would ever be the same. One had been born into a life of darkness, wielding power like a weapon, and the other had been thrust into a world she was not meant to inhabit. And yet, their paths had crossed, tangled by chance, by fate, or by something neither could yet name.
Something was beginning to grow between them a dangerous, intoxicating thread that neither understood, and yet both would feel pulling at their hearts and minds with every stolen glance, every moment of proximity. Emma did not know the storm approaching, and Adrian did not know the rules of the game he had started. All either knew was that the world as they had known it was over, and a new one, burning with obsession, fear, and undeniable connection, had begun.