CHAPTER THREE

Elodie stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath her modest shoes. A wave of innocence washed over her, making the world feel both vast and intimidating.

The mansion sprawled before her like a sleeping giant. She had never seen anything like it. She stood there, her simple dress fluttering in the breeze.

The driver had already sped away down the driveway, his taillights fading into the distance. Gathering her courage, she clutched her small suitcase containing little more than a few changes of clothes, her Bible, and her rosary and approached the entrance.

The security was formidable. Iron gates swung open mechanically after she presented her invitation letter. Guards in crisp uniforms scanned her with metal detectors and asked probing questions about her purpose.

“Elodie,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here at the invitation of Mr. Antoine.”

They nodded curtly and waved her through.

“Good day. We’ve been expecting you,” a voice said, interrupting her study of the house. A butler, impeccably dressed in a black suit, appeared from a side door. His face was lined with years of service, his expression neutral. “The boss is not yet back, but his sons are home. They should be in their rooms. I’ll show you to yours.”

She nodded mutely, falling into step behind him. He led her through hallways, each more lavish than the last.

“This is it,” he said, gesturing inside before turning and walking away.

She set her suitcase down and unpacked slowly, placing her Bible on the nightstand and her rosary beside it so she could reach for it when needed.

As she knelt to say a quick prayer of thanks for her safe arrival, loud moans suddenly echoed through the wall. At first, she thought it was the wind—perhaps a storm approaching but the sounds continued, rising into cries and shouts.

It was human. She gasped.

Could this be the sound of the sin she had been warned about? Voices shouted obscenities, raw and unrestrained. Her innocence recoiled. She had been sheltered all her life, protected from such acts, never exposed to anything like this. Was this a test of her faith?

The moans grew louder, the voices more frantic.

“Oh, yes… harder…”

A woman’s voice followed by a man’s.

Her hands trembled as she grabbed her rosary from the nightstand, the beads clinking softly. She pressed it to her chest and sank back to her knees on the plush carpet, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Hail Mary,” she whispered urgently, her voice shaking as the sounds intensified. The wall seemed to vibrate with their passion, each cry invading her sanctuary. “Full of grace…”

She repeated the prayer, her fingers flying over the beads in a desperate attempt to drown out the sin next door, but the moans only grew louder.

Panic fluttered in her chest. Was this the bleak fate she had feared? Had the Lord led her here to test her faith amid such temptation?

She prayed harder, her lips moving fervently. The rosary became her anchor, each bead a step toward salvation, pulling her away from the curiosity threatening to stir within her.

She must not think such thoughts. She was innocent. Devoted.

Eventually, the sounds faded, replaced by laughter, then silence. Her heart still raced as she remained on her knees, finishing the rosary, begging for strength. No matter the temptation, she would face it with prayer.

That evening, after finishing her chores, she returned to her room, ready to call it a day. Yet her mind wandered back to those sounds.

Could it have been one of the sons? she wondered.

She had been told Antoine’s sons lived in the house, but she had not yet been introduced to them. Maybe soon.

⸻

Antoine leaned back in his leather executive chair, the very image of corporate success. Sharp suits, a sharper mind, and a reputation that preceded him in both boardrooms and private spaces.

His dark hair was impeccably styled, his jawline sculpted by hours at the gym, and his eyes held a glint that drew attention wherever he went.

Jenny was one of many who noticed.

A junior analyst in marketing, fresh out of college, she had long auburn hair, curves her pencil skirts accentuated, and a smile that promised mischief.

He’d noticed her weeks ago—the way she bit her lip when he passed her desk, the subtle arch of her back when she knew she was being watched.

A soft knock echoed through the room, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he called smoothly.

The door opened, and there she was, clutching a stack of reports, her cheeks already flushed under his gaze. She wore a fitted blouse that hugged her chest, the top button undone just enough to tease, and heels that clicked against the marble floor.

“Mr. Antoine,” she said softly, “I have the quarterly projections you requested. I thought I’d bring them personally.”

Antoine smiled knowingly and gestured to the chair across from his desk.

“Close the door, Jenny and lock it.”

She hesitated for a moment, her green eyes widening, but then she obeyed. The lock clicked. She stepped forward and placed the papers on his desk, her hands trembling.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked.

He stood, towering over her, his presence filling the room.

“Oh, I think there is.”

His fingers traced her jaw, lifting her chin. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her breath quickening. Antoine felt the warmth radiating from her, the subtle scent of her perfume, the way she inhaled deeply beneath his gaze.