CHAPTER 3: BEHIND THE HILTON GATES

MYRA

I immediately called Aunt Margaret after arriving home from the market yesterday.

The moment she heard my answer, she sounded relieved.

"Good. I already informed the Head Maid that someone is interested in the position."

That alone made my heart race.

Everything was happening so fast.

She told me to be ready early in the morning because someone from Hilton Mansion would pick me up.

Needless to say, I barely had time to process everything.

That's why I forced myself to sleep early.

Today could change my life.

Or completely embarrass me.

Hopefully the first one.

"Dear, are you sure you want to work under Mr. Hilton?"

Mom's worried voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up from my breakfast.

She had been staring at me for the last ten minutes.

Probably hoping I would suddenly change my mind.

"What if he hurts you?" she asked quietly.

I knew why she was worried.

Aunt Margaret had told her everything.

The countless maids who resigned.

The terrible temper.

The impossible personality.

The stories weren't exactly comforting.

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

"Mom, don't worry."

She didn't look convinced.

"This is for my future."

I smiled.

"For our future."

Her eyes immediately softened.

"And besides," I continued, raising my fist dramatically, "Dad always said I should fight back if someone bullies me."

Mom stared at my fist.

Then at me.

Then she laughed.

A real laugh.

"You silly girl."

I grinned.

"See? Problem solved."

"You're exactly like your father."

The smile slowly faded from her face.

A familiar sadness settled in her eyes.

Dad.

Even after three years, it still hurt.

I immediately stood up and wrapped my arms around her.

"Seriously, Mom."

My voice softened.

"I'll do my best."

She hugged me back.

"I know you will."

"Trust me."

"I do."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then a loud car horn echoed from outside.

Both of us froze.

My heart immediately started pounding.

That had to be them.

I quickly pulled away and glanced toward the window.

"That was fast."

Mom walked toward the door with me.

The nervousness inside my stomach returned.

This was it.

No turning back now.

I grabbed my bag and kissed Mom on the cheek.

"I'll call you later."

"You better."

I laughed.

Then stepped outside.

The moment I reached the front yard, my feet stopped moving.

A black limousine was parked in front of our house.

A limousine.

In our neighborhood.

Several neighbors were already peeking through their windows.

One elderly woman nearly dropped her watering can.

Meanwhile, I stood there looking like I had forgotten how to breathe.

No way.

This couldn't be for me.

The rear door automatically opened.

My jaw almost hit the ground.

I suddenly became very aware of my old shoes.

And my old bag.

And my entire existence.

Slowly, I climbed inside.

The interior looked more expensive than my entire apartment.

The seats were soft.

The air smelled clean.

Everything felt unreal.

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

A warm smile appeared on his face.

"Good morning."

I immediately sat straighter.

"Good morning, sir."

He chuckled.

"Margaret told me about you."

I smiled politely.

"She did?"

"Quite a lot, actually."

That was slightly concerning.

"My name is Hector."

His smile widened.

"But you can call me Uncle Hector."

Something about him immediately felt comforting.

Like talking to a favorite relative.

"Then you can call me Myra."

"Deal."

The limousine slowly pulled away from the curb.

As we left the neighborhood behind, I watched the familiar streets disappear through the window.

My chest tightened.

This wasn't just a new job.

This was a completely different world.

"So," Uncle Hector said, breaking the silence, "you're really willing to take care of Young Master Terrence?"

The way he said it made me curious.

"Is he really that difficult?"

A sigh escaped him.

"Sometimes."

That wasn't reassuring.

"Only sometimes?"

He laughed.

"Fine. Most of the time."

I groaned.

Great.

Just great.

For a few moments, silence filled the car.

Then Uncle Hector spoke again.

His voice sounded quieter this time.

"I hope you won't lose patience with him."

I looked up.

The smile had disappeared from his face.

"He might seem rude."

His hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

"He might push people away."

There was something almost painful in his voice.

"But he's a good person."

I remained silent.

"He just..."

Uncle Hector paused.

"...got very lonely."

The words lingered inside the car.

Lonely.

For some reason, that wasn't the description I expected.

Not from a billionaire heir.

Not from someone who lived in a mansion.

Not from someone who had everything.

I found myself staring out the window.

Thinking.

Wondering.

Trying to imagine the person waiting at the end of this journey.

The famous football captain of Hilton Academy.

The golden boy everyone admired.

The billionaire heir.

The young master who made countless maids quit.

The man who hadn't returned to school for almost two years.

Who exactly was Terrence Alexander Hilton?

And why did the thought of meeting him suddenly make me nervous?

As the city skyline appeared in the distance, one thing became clear.

My life was about to change.

And somehow...

I had a feeling his would too.