THE GIRL IN MY HOUSE

Chapter Seven: The Girl in My House

Ivy had never seen a house this big. She stood just inside the Sterling mansion, her small bag hanging from her shoulder as her eyes wandered across the enormous living room. Everything looked expensive—the polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, the furniture was plush and elegant, and massive paintings adorned the walls in ornate gold frames. She felt small and out of place, like a visitor in a world that didn't belong to her.

"Mom," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Maria turned toward her. "What?"

"It's beautiful." Ivy's eyes continued to wander, taking in every detail. "I've never seen anything like it."

Maria gave her a small smile, though her eyes held a trace of sadness. "It is."

Victoria watched them from across the room, her expression soft and understanding. "You don't have to be nervous, Ivy. You and your mother are welcome here."

Ivy quickly shook her head, embarrassed by her own awe. "Thank you, ma'am. We really appreciate this. We won't be any trouble."

"You don't have to call me ma'am."

Ivy looked surprised, her eyes widening slightly. "Then what should I call you?"

Victoria smiled warmly. "Victoria is fine."

Maria immediately looked uncomfortable, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Mrs. Sterling, we couldn't possibly—"

"She means it," Victoria assured her, cutting off the protest. "You're not working right now. You're staying here because I offered you a place. That makes you my guest, not my employee."

Ivy nodded slowly, still uncertain. "Thank you, Victoria."

Victoria smiled. "Much better."

She led them upstairs, her heels clicking softly against the marble steps. "I've had a room prepared for you, Ivy. It's not huge, but I hope you'll be comfortable."

When Victoria opened the door, Ivy's mouth fell open. The room was bigger than the entire bedroom she had shared with her mother in their cramped little house. A neatly made bed with crisp white linens sat against one wall, a spacious wardrobe stood opposite, and a polished wooden desk was positioned beneath a large window that overlooked a sprawling garden filled with flowers. Soft curtains framed the window, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blossoms into the room.

"I can't stay here," Ivy said immediately, stepping backward.

Victoria frowned, confused. "Why not?"

"This room is too much. It's too beautiful. I don't deserve—"

Victoria laughed softly, cutting her off. "It's just a room, Ivy. A place to sleep."

Ivy looked around again, her eyes wide with wonder. "Not where I come from. Where I come from, this would be a palace."

Something about the way she said it made Victoria's expression soften. There was a weight in Ivy's words, a lifetime of struggle compressed into that simple statement. "You deserve a comfortable place to sleep," Victoria said gently. "Everyone does."

Ivy lowered her eyes, embarrassed by her own emotions. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Victoria left them to settle in, her footsteps fading down the hallway. Ivy immediately began helping her mother unpack their few belongings, moving with practiced efficiency.

"You should rest," Maria said, watching her daughter carefully. "You've had a difficult day."

"I'm fine." Ivy continued folding clothes, her movements quick and precise.

"You've been through so much. You don't have to prove anything here."

"I know, but I don't want them to think we're taking advantage of their kindness." Ivy paused, looking at her mother. "They've given us a place to stay. The least I can do is help."

Maria smiled, her eyes filled with love. "You're always thinking about everyone else."

Ivy shrugged. "It's just who I am."

Several hours later, the front doors opened with a loud click. "I'm home!" Kiara Sterling walked inside, tossing her designer handbag onto the sofa without a second thought. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode through the living room. "Mom?"

No answer. She frowned. "Mom!"

"I'm upstairs!" Victoria's voice echoed from somewhere above.

Kiara sighed dramatically and headed toward the staircase. She stopped when she noticed an unfamiliar pair of worn shoes near the entrance, scuffed and faded from years of use. She frowned, her brow furrowing. Whose were those?

She walked upstairs, her footsteps slower now. As she reached the hallway, she heard voices coming from one of the rooms—voices she didn't recognize. Kiara stopped. She pushed the door open slightly and peered inside. A girl she had never seen before was folding clothes into a small bag. She wore simple, faded clothes, and her movements were quiet and unobtrusive.

The girl turned around. Their eyes met. For a moment, neither said anything. Then Kiara looked at the room, then back at the stranger standing in it.

"What are you doing here?" Kiara demanded, her voice sharp.

Ivy looked confused, clearly caught off guard. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Kiara stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing. "This is my house. Who are you?"

Ivy glanced toward the hallway, clearly uncomfortable. "I..."

Before she could finish, Victoria appeared behind Kiara. "Kiara."

Kiara turned, her expression demanding answers. "Mom, who is she?"

Victoria walked into the room, her expression calm but firm. "This is Ivy."

"Ivy?" Kiara repeated, as though the name meant nothing to her.

"She's Maria's daughter."

Kiara's eyes widened in recognition, followed quickly by disdain. "The housekeeper?"

Victoria's expression immediately changed, her eyes hardening. "Maria is our employee, yes. But Ivy is her daughter."

Kiara looked Ivy up and down, taking in her simple clothes and worn shoes. Then she looked back at her mother. "Why is she in our house?"

"Because Ivy and Maria needed somewhere to stay."

"For how long?" Kiara's voice was demanding, impatient.

Victoria sighed, her patience clearly wearing thin. "I don't know yet."

Kiara folded her arms, her posture defensive. "So she's staying here?"

"Yes."

Kiara looked at Ivy again, her gaze cold and dismissive. She noticed Ivy's simple clothes, her worn shoes, the way she seemed to shrink under the scrutiny. A small smirk appeared on her face. "Interesting."

Victoria frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Kiara walked past her mother and into the room, circling Ivy like a predator sizing up prey. She picked up one of Ivy's shirts between two fingers, examining it with exaggerated disdain. "This is where you're keeping your clothes?"

Ivy nodded, her voice quiet. "Yes."

Kiara dropped it back onto the bed. "You know this is my house, right?"

Ivy's expression tightened, but she kept her composure. "I know."

"Good." Kiara smiled coldly.

Victoria stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Kiara. That's enough."

"What?"

"That's enough."

Kiara stared at her mother. "You're seriously defending her? She's the housekeeper's daughter."

Ivy lowered her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Victoria's voice became firm. "And she is our guest. You will be respectful."

Kiara's jaw tightened. She wasn't used to being corrected in front of other people, especially not because of someone she had never even met before. "Fine." She turned toward the door. But before leaving, she looked back at Ivy. "Don't get too comfortable."

Ivy said nothing.

Kiara walked away.

That evening, Ivy helped Maria prepare dinner in the enormous kitchen. She moved quietly, washing vegetables while her mother prepared the meal. Victoria entered and watched her for a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"You don't have to help," Victoria said gently.

Ivy smiled, continuing her work. "I want to. It's the least I can do."

"You've been through enough today. You should rest."

"I'm okay." Ivy's voice was steady. "Helping makes me feel useful."

Victoria nodded, something flickering in her eyes. "You remind me of someone."

Ivy looked up. "Who?"

Victoria paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "I don't know." She couldn't explain it. There was something strangely familiar about Ivy—the way she smiled, the way she looked at her, the way she carried herself with quiet dignity despite everything she had endured. Something about the girl tugged at a part of Victoria's heart she couldn't understand.

Before she could think about it any further, footsteps sounded behind them. Kiara walked into the kitchen, her expression immediately souring when she saw Ivy working beside Maria.

"You really are going to make yourself useful, aren't you?" Kiara's voice dripped with contempt.

Ivy turned. "I was just helping my mom."

Kiara smiled coldly. "Of course."

Victoria immediately noticed her tone. "Kiara."

"What?"

"Leave her alone."

Kiara sighed dramatically. "Fine." She walked out, but her anger lingered in the air behind her.

She wasn't fine. Not at all. For the first time, someone else was receiving her mother's attention. Someone else was being welcomed into her home. Someone else was being treated with kindness that should have been reserved for her. And Kiara hated it.

From the top of the staircase later that night, she watched Ivy walk down the hallway toward her room. Kiara folded her arms, her jaw tight. She had no idea how long Ivy planned to stay. But she knew one thing—she didn't want her there.