Chapter four

Saturday morning arrived too quickly.

Elena stood in the middle of her tiny apartment—now mostly empty except for a few boxes she asked Sophie to store,and looked at the two suitcases that contained her entire life.

One suitcase held clothes: mostly practical things now, nothing fancy. She sold most of her "Marcus era" wardrobe online for whatever she could get. Designer dresses and heels didn't make sense for a housekeeper anyway.

The other suitcase held personal items: photos of her father, her mother's old jewelry box, books, her laptop, a few things she couldn't bear to part with.

The wedding dress still hung on the bathroom door. Elena had meant to deal with it, but every time she tried, she couldn't bring herself to touch it. In the end, she left it there for the landlord to dispose of. Let someone else throw away that ghost.

Her phone rang. Patricia.

"Miss Cortez, the car will arrive in ten minutes to collect you."

"Car?" Elena had assumed she drove herself.

"Mr. Blackwell is sending a driver. You won't need your vehicle at the estate,everything you require is on the property, and your time off can be arranged with advance notice. If you prefer to keep your car, there's storage available in the garage."

"Oh. Okay. Thank you."

Elena looked at her beat-up Honda. Keeping it meant insurance payments she couldn't afford. "Actually, I'll probably sell it. I need the money."

"As you wish. The driver will be there shortly."

Ten minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up. Not a limo that would have been too ostentatious,but clearly expensive. The driver, an older man in a neat suit, helped her load her suitcases into the trunk.

"Morning, miss. Name's Robert. I do most of the driving for the estate."

"Nice to meet you, Robert."

"Likewise. Patricia says you're starting today as a housekeeper?"

"Yes."

Robert smiled,the first genuinely warm expression Elena had encountered from anyone associated with Adrian Blackwell. "Well, welcome aboard. Don't let the place intimidate you. It's just a house, and Mr. Blackwell's bark is worse than his bite."

"Does he bark often?"

"Only when people deserve it." Robert opened the back door for her. "He's fair, though. Stern, but fair. You do right by him, he'll do right by you."

Elena climbed in, and they set off toward the estate. She watched the city fall away behind her,the apartment building where she lived, the streets where she walked with Marcus, the life that had crumbled. Part of her felt like she was running away.

Another part felt like she was finally running toward something.

---

They arrived at Blackwell Estate just after nine. The gates opened automatically, recognizing the car, and they drove up that long, tree-lined driveway Elena remembered from her interview.

In the morning light, the estate looked slightly less intimidating. Still massive, still imposing, but the sun softened the gray stone, and she could see gardens stretching out behind the main house—actual signs of life and color.

Patricia was waiting at the front entrance, clipboard in hand.

"Welcome, Miss Cortez. Robert will take your bags to your quarters. Follow me,I'll give you a proper tour before you begin."

Elena followed Patricia inside, paying more attention this time. The entry hall was enormous,marble floors, a sweeping staircase, a chandelier that probably cost more than her entire year's salary. Everything gleamed.

"The main house has forty-two rooms across three floors," Patricia explained as they walked. "Your primary responsibility is the ground floor and Mr. Blackwell's private quarters on the second floor. The third floor is mostly unused—storage, old guest rooms. We have a cleaning service that comes quarterly for deep cleaning, but daily maintenance is your responsibility."

Forty-two rooms. Elena's apartment could have fit in the entry hall alone.

They walked through a formal dining room ("Rarely used"), a library ("Mr. Blackwell spends considerable time here"), a sitting room ("Also rarely used"), and then into a massive kitchen.

A woman was at the stove, probably in her early sixties, with kind eyes and flour on her apron. She looked up and smiled.

"You must be Elena! I'm Maria, the cook. Patricia told me we were getting help finally—this place is too big for one person to manage."

"Nice to meet you," Elena said, grateful for the warm greeting.

"Maria has been with Mr. Blackwell for eight years," Patricia said. "She prepares meals, manages the kitchen inventory, and occasionally helps with entertaining when Mr. Blackwell has business guests,which is rare."

"He doesn't like people much," Maria said with a conspiratorial wink. "Present company excluded, of course."

Patricia's expression didn't change, but Elena thought she saw the hint of a smile. "Your quarters are through here."

They left the kitchen and walked down a side hallway to the west wing. Patricia opened a door, revealing a small apartment.

It wasn't fancy,a bedroom with a double bed, a sitting area with a couch and TV, a small bathroom, a kitchenette. But it was clean, bright, and infinitely better than Elena's studio apartment had been.

"This is yours," Patricia said. "You're welcome to decorate within reason. No major alterations. The kitchenette is for your personal use, though you'll take most meals with staff in the kitchen. Your work schedule is Monday through Friday, eight AM to six PM, with an hour lunch break. Weekends are generally free unless Mr. Blackwell has specific needs, which he'll communicate through me."

Elena did the math. That was fifty hours a week, which made her hourly rate about seventeen dollars. Not amazing, but with room and board...

"Your first week will be training," Patricia continued. "I'll show you Mr. Blackwell's preferences, the cleaning protocols, where everything is kept. He's very particular about certain things."

"Like what?"

"His study is private. You'll clean it, but you don't touch his desk, his papers, or anything on his bookshelves. The library is similar,clean, but doesn't reorganize. He has a system." Patricia consulted her clipboard. "He takes coffee at six AM, black, no sugar. He doesn't eat breakfast. Lunch is usually in his office, something light. Dinner at seven PM, in the dining room when he's alone, in his study when he's working."

"Does he... does he work from home often?"

"Always. Mr. Blackwell runs his business primarily from here. He goes into the city perhaps once a week for meetings. Otherwise, everything comes to him."

So she will be seeing him regularly. The thought made Elena nervous.

"Come," Patricia said. "I'll show you the cleaning supplies and we'll begin."

---

The next three hours were a whirlwind of information.

Patricia showed Elena where everything was kept_cleaning supplies in a dedicated room, linens in a massive closet, special products for the various expensive surfaces throughout the house. She explained Mr. Blackwell's routine (he rose early, worked late, and didn't like to be disturbed). She demonstrated the proper way to clean everything from the marble floors to the antique furniture.

"Mr. Blackwell values quality over speed," Patricia emphasized. "Don't rush. Do it right."

By noon, Elena's head was spinning with information and her arms ached from practicing various cleaning techniques on Patricia's exacting standards.

"You'll take lunch now," Patricia said. "Afterward, you'll clean the library. Mr. Blackwell is working in his study, so stay quiet. I'll check your work when you're finished."

Elena made her way to the kitchen, where Maria had soup and sandwiches waiting.

"Sit, sit!" Maria insisted. "You look exhausted already and it's only day one."

"There's so much to remember," Elena admitted, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table.

"Patricia is tough, but she means well. She's been with Mr. Blackwell since the beginning helped him set up this whole place. She's fiercely loyal." Maria set a bowl of soup in front of Elena. "Eat. You'll need your strength."

The soup was delicious,homemade, with fresh bread on the side. Elena realized she hadn't had a proper meal in days.

"Has Mr. Blackwell really lived here alone all this time?" Elena asked between bites.

Maria nodded. "Eight years. Built this place from the ground up when his business took off. I think he wanted something that was entirely his, you know? Something no one could take from him."

"What do you mean?"

Maria hesitated, then lowered her voice. "I probably shouldn't gossip, but... Mr. Blackwell came from nothing. Built his fortune himself. But before he made it big, there was a woman. She was with him when he had nothing, said she loved him. Then when he started succeeding, she left him for someone wealthier. Broke his heart. After that, he just... closed himself off. Built this place, buried himself in work. I don't think he trusts people easily anymore."

Elena felt a strange pang of sympathy. She knew what betrayal felt like.

"Anyway," Maria said, brightening, "that's ancient history. The point is, this house could use some life in it. Maybe you being here will be good for him."

"I'm just the housekeeper," Elena said.

"Still. It's something."

After lunch, Elena made her way to the library. It was one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen—two stories tall, with a spiral staircase leading to a second level, walls lined with thousands of books. Large windows let in natural light, and there were several reading areas with leather chairs.

It was also completely spotless.

Elena wondered if anyone ever actually used this room, or if it was just for show.

She started dusting, working methodically as Patricia had taught her. The quiet was almost meditative. For the first time in weeks, her mind wasn't racing with anxiety about bills or lawsuits or humiliation. She was just... working. There was something almost peaceful about it.

She was halfway up the spiral staircase, dusting the second-level shelves, when she heard the library door open.

Elena turned to see Adrian Blackwell enter.

He stopped when he saw her, clearly not expecting anyone. For a moment, they just stared at each other.

He looked different than he had during the interview—less formal. He'd ditched the suit jacket and tie, and his white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, like he had been running his hands through it. He looked... almost human.

"Miss Cortez," he said. "I didn't realize you started today."

"Yes, sir. This morning." Elena felt suddenly self-conscious, standing on the staircase with a dust cloth in her hand. "I'm sorry,am I in your way? I can come back"

"No. Continue." He walked to one of the bookshelves, scanning the titles. "I just needed something to reference."

Elena went back to dusting, hyperaware of his presence below her. She could hear him moving around, pulling out books, flipping through pages. The silence felt heavy.

She tried to focus on her work, but her hands were shaking slightly. This was her employer. The man who gave her a second chance. She couldn't afford to mess this up.

"Miss Cortez."

His voice startled her. She looked down to find him standing at the base of the spiral staircase, looking up at her.

"Yes, sir?"

"You don't need to call me 'sir.' Mr. Blackwell is fine."

"Oh. Okay. Mr. Blackwell."

He studied her for a moment. "Patricia tells me you're a quick learner."

"I'm trying to be."

"Good." He started to turn away, then paused. "How are you settling in?"

The question surprised her. She hadn't expected him to care about her comfort. "Fine. The quarters are very nice. Maria's been kind. Patricia is... thorough."

Was that amusement in his eyes? "Patricia is exacting. But you'll learn more from her in a week than most people learn in a year. She doesn't suffer fools, but she respects hard work."

"I appreciate the opportunity," Elena said. "Really. I won't let you down."

Adrian's expression was unreadable. "See that you don't."

He left the library, taking several books with him.

Elena let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

That wasn't so bad. He was... not warm, exactly, but not cruel either. Professional. Distant, but not unkind.

She could work with that.

---

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of cleaning and learning. Patricia inspected the library with a critical eye, pointing out spots Elena had missed, showing her the proper technique for cleaning the leather chairs without damaging them.

"Better," Patricia said finally. It was probably the closest thing to praise Elena would get. "Tomorrow you'll start on Mr. Blackwell's quarters. He leaves for his morning workout at six-thirty. You'll have an hour to clean his bedroom, bathroom, and study while he's gone."

"His study? I thought that was private?"

"It is. Which is why you clean it when he's not there, and why you follow my instructions exactly. No touching his desk, his papers, or his personal items. Dust, vacuum, empty the trash, replace the towels in his private bathroom. That's all."

Elena nodded. "Understood."

"One more thing." Patricia's expression became more serious. "Mr. Blackwell sometimes works very late. If you hear him moving around the house at night, ignore it. He values his privacy. Don't attempt to interact with him outside of normal working hours unless there's an emergency."

"Got it."

By six PM, Elena was exhausted. Patricia dismissed her for the day, and Elena retreated to her quarters.

She unpacked her suitcases, hanging her clothes in the closet, setting up her few personal items on the dresser. The wedding photos stayed in the suitcase. She wasn't ready to look at those yet.

Her phone buzzed. Sophie.

**Sophie: "How's day one? Is your boss a secret vampire? Does the mansion have ghosts?"**

Elena smiled despite her exhaustion.

**Elena: "No vampires yet. Lots of stairs. My arms hurt."**

**Sophie: "But you're okay? You're safe?"**

**Elena: "I'm okay. It's actually... not bad. Quiet. The staff is nice. And I have my own apartment it's small but way better than my old place."**

**Sophie: "That's great! I'm proud of you. You're doing it.You're moving forward."**

Elena looked around her small quarters. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't the life she had imagined. But it was hers, earned through her own work, with no one to abandon her or take it away.

**Elena: "Yeah. I guess I am."**

After texting with Sophie a bit more, Elena showered and fell into bed. She was asleep within minutes, too exhausted to dream.

Meanwhile, in Adrian's study:

Adrian sat at his desk, staring at the financial reports in front of him without really seeing them.

He knows Elena Cortez would start today. He approved her hiring, after all. But seeing her in his house, in his library, actually working...

It had been strange.

She looked different than during the interview. Less defensive, less brittle. There had been something almost peaceful about watching her work, focused and careful, trying so hard to do everything right.

He meant what he said,he believed in second chances. He needed one himself once, and someone had given it to him. Paying that forward felt right.

But there was something else, something he hadn't anticipated.

Elena Cortez was beautiful.

He noticed it during the interview but had dismissed it as irrelevant. She was an employee, nothing more. He didn't get involved with staff. He didn't get involved with anyone, actually. After Vanessa, he learned that lesson well.

But standing in the library today, watching Elena on that spiral staircase, sunlight catching in her dark hair, he felt... something. Interest, maybe. Curiosity.

It was inconvenient.

Adrian closed the financial reports and pulled up Elena's background file instead. He read it before, but he reviewed it again now.

Elena Marie Cortez. I am twenty-six years old. Degree in communications and event management. No criminal record. No red flags beyond the Chen family disaster. Her credit was destroyed, her reputation in shambles, but nothing suggested she was anything other than what she claimed: a woman who trusted the wrong man and paid dearly for it.

The Chen family lawsuit was still active. Adrian made a mental note to have his lawyers look into it. If the Chens discovered Elena was working for him, they might try to use it somehow. Better to be prepared.

His phone buzzed. A text from his attorney, David Liu.

**David: "Chen family officially filed for bankruptcy today. FBI investigation ongoing. Thought you want to know."**

Adrian felt a grim satisfaction. He had done the right thing, exposing their corruption. But he knew the Chens wouldn't go quietly. They blame him, spin the narrative, and try to take others down with them.

Including, possibly, Elena.

He looked at her file again. Her photo—professional, taken during the interview. She had been trying so hard to look composed, but he'd s

een the fear underneath. The desperation.

He understood desperation. He lived it.

"Don't make me regret this, Miss Cortez," he murmured to the empty room.

Then he closed the file and went back to work, pushing thoughts of his new employee firmly out of his mind.