Burning The Mafia Empire: The Phoenix Revenge

ELARA'S POV

"Get your hands off me!" I hissed, wrenching my arm from the guard's grasp.

The expensive linen tablecloth in my hand was soaking wet, stained with the kind of crimson wine that cost more than my rent.

I hadn't even been in the Raye manor for five minutes, and already, I'd ruined a thousand dollar setup. I probably won't be able to pay for this event if I work for a month.

"You know the rules, girl," the guard muttered, his voice a low arrogant rumble. "No unauthorised contact. You clean, you leave. Pronto!"

I didn't argue. I just stared at the ruined cloth, feeling the familiar, cold knot of dread twist in my stomach. Elara, you need this money.

My job was simple: personal domestic services assigned through the agency and today, I was replacing a staff member who'd called in sick at one of the city's most exclusive estates. The Raye estate. 

It was massive and polished with marble; a quiet, oppressive wealth. It was the kind of place you walked into and felt instantly small and invisible. I preferred it that way. Invisibility was survival and it made you hard to notice.

I dipped my head, grabbing the stained cloth. "My apologies. I’ll replace it Sir."

"You couldn't afford the thread," he scoffed, pointing towards the door.

I ignored the insult and hurried toward the kitchen, my movements quick and precise. 

Cedric, the man who raised me, taught me everything about survival. "Move fast, observe everything, and never let them see you panic."

As I rounded a corner near a dim, velvet-lined hallway, a heavy door swung open, and I stopped dead on my tracks.

He stood there, framed by the shadows of the study. Lucian Raye. The heir. 

I recognized him instantly from the news reports. The cold eyes, the sharp jawline, the kind of tailored suit that looked like a second skin. He was taller and leaner than I expected, with an elegance that felt dangerous.

His eyes, dark and intense, landed on me. Not dismissively, the way most wealthy people looked at staff, but with a sudden, weird focus. It was as if he wasn't looking at a cleaner, but through me.

"Who are you?" His voice was low, polite, and colder than the marble floors beneath my feet.

I held the wine-stained linen tighter. "Elara. I'm filling in for housekeeping, Mr. Raye."

He took a slow step forward, narrowing the distance. "I didn't authorize a new hire."

"The agency sent me for the day. I was just taking this to the laundry." I kept my voice flat, professional, refusing to meet the intensity of his gaze, which felt like a physical pressure.

"The laundry is downstairs. You're walking toward the main parlor."

My heart hammered against my ribs. He was testing me. My mind raced. Had I taken the wrong turn? No, the kitchen was past the parlor. 

I glanced quickly down the hallway, spotting the subtle marking I'd noted earlier.

"The linen is soaked, sir. It needs pre-treating in the utility sink, which is this way." I stood my ground, my back straight and my eyes met his.

A ghost of a smile, cold and quick, touched his lips. "Resourceful. I like that." He paused, his dark eyes sweeping over me again, lingering for a fraction too long on my face. "Don't let me see you ruin anything else, Elara. Not in my house."

He stepped past me, the air moving with him, leaving a trace of expensive cologne and something else; something clinical, almost metallic. I watched him go, feeling the hair on the back of my neck rise.

My focus returned to the hallway. As I turned, my gaze caught a small, vintage display cabinet set into the wall. Inside, catching the dim light, was a delicate, antique pendant. 

It was silver, intricately carved, but the detail that stopped my breath was a tiny, recurring motif on the clasp: the dark silhouette of a bird with outstretched wings.

My hands started to shake. A phoenix.

The memory hit me with the force of a punch, not the clear memories Cedric helped me build, but the deep, raw fragments from my five-year-old self. Fire. Screaming. And two figures, silhouetted against the flames, wearing masks marked with red and gold phoenix wings.

I stumbled back, the wine stain on the cloth suddenly looking like fresh blood.

Why is that here?

I needed to see it closer, to be sure, but the sound of Lucian’s voice, now echoing from a distant room, snapped me out of the trance. I had to move. I ran toward the laundry, not caring about my pace, my mind repeating the image of that pendant.

The estate, which I thought was just another job, was somehow connected.

I scrubbed the linen until my fingers ached, but the stain on my mind remained.

Later that evening, as I packed up my supplies, the Agency Supervisor, a portly man named Mr. Finn, met me by the side entrance.

"Good work, Elara. They specifically asked for you back tomorrow," he said, handing me a sealed envelope with a thick wad of Dollar notes inside.

My heart dropped. Back tomorrow? This wasn't a one-off job anymore. This was an invitation back into the lion's den. I had planned to take the money and run, to forget this unsettling place. Now, they were pulling me back in.

"But..."

Mr. Finn shrugged, already walking away. "High-priority client. Looks like you made an impression, Elara. Don't mess it up and no more complaints."

I stared at the closed door of the Raye manor, the massive structure which was weirdly giving off dark energy. 

They wanted me back? The place that held a piece of my darkest memory, the phoenix motif, wanted me inside its walls again. And I needed the money too badly to say no.

I have to go back.

But if I go back, I won't just clean. I have something of interest now.