CHAPTER 5: FIRST IMPRESSION

MYRA

I followed Madame Beatrice out of the office and toward the grand staircase. With every step we took, my heart seemed to beat faster.

This was it.

The moment I would finally meet Terrence Alexander Hilton.

The man who had somehow become the answer to all my problems.

Or possibly the beginning of new ones.

Don't think negatively, Myra.

You already signed the papers.

There was no turning back now.

The mansion's second floor was just as extravagant as the first. Expensive paintings decorated the walls, while large windows filled the hallway with natural light. Everything looked elegant.

Everything except my nerves.

Madame Beatrice remained silent as she led the way. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, creating a steady rhythm that somehow made me even more anxious.

Finally, she stopped.

I followed her gaze.

A large double door stood at the end of the hallway.

Even from a distance, it looked expensive.

The wood was dark and polished to perfection, while gold details framed the edges. Near the center, elegant lettering had been carved into the surface.

Terrence Alexander Hilton.

I swallowed.

So this was his room.

Madame Beatrice knocked twice before opening the door.

"Young Master."

The room was enormous.

It looked less like a bedroom and more like a private suite.

Bookshelves lined one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline. A large television occupied another corner, while expensive furniture filled the remaining space.

Then my eyes landed on him.

Terrence Hilton.

For a moment, I almost forgot to breathe.

I had seen him countless times before.

Every student at Hilton Academy had.

Before his accident, he was impossible to miss. He was the football captain. The academy's golden boy. The student everyone talked about.

Even I knew who he was.

But the man sitting in front of me looked very different from the person I remembered.

He sat in a wheelchair facing the window.

His dark hair was slightly longer than before. A layer of stubble covered his jaw, making him look older than twenty-two. He wore a black silk robe over a gray shirt and sweatpants.

He still looked handsome.

Just... tired.

As though life had exhausted him.

"Good afternoon, Young Master," Madame Beatrice greeted politely, bowing her head.

Only then did he glance in our direction.

His gaze landed on me.

Sharp.

Cold.

Evaluating.

The kind of stare that made people look away.

I didn't.

"Your new personal maid has arrived," Madame Beatrice continued.

His expression didn't change.

Not even slightly.

For several seconds, silence filled the room.

Then he looked away.

Just like that.

As if I wasn't worth his attention.

"You wasted your time."

His voice was calm.

Cold enough to freeze the room.

Madame Beatrice immediately stiffened.

"Young Master—"

"I give her a week."

His gaze remained fixed on the city outside.

"Maybe less."

Well.

That was rude.

Very rude.

I suddenly understood why people kept resigning.

Madame Beatrice shot me a warning look.

The message was clear.

Bow.

Apologize.

Be respectful.

I understood all of that.

What I didn't understand was why I should silently accept being insulted.

I came here to work.

Not to become someone's punching bag.

"I may look stupid."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

The room instantly went silent.

Madame Beatrice's eyes widened.

Terrence slowly turned his head toward me.

"I may look stupid," I repeated calmly, "but this stupid girl is the one you're going to see every day from now on."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

I wasn't even sure if breathing was allowed anymore.

Madame Beatrice looked seconds away from fainting.

Terrence simply stared at me.

Then something unexpected happened.

A smirk appeared.

Small.

Almost invisible.

But definitely there.

Interesting.

"Is that so?"

His voice carried amusement now.

A dangerous kind.

I crossed my arms.

"Yes."

"Confident."

"Realistic."

His smirk widened slightly.

"Poor girl."

There it was again.

That annoying billionaire attitude.

I smiled sweetly.

The kind of smile Sophia always said meant trouble.

"Arrogant billionaire."

Madame Beatrice nearly choked.

The silence that followed was deadly.

Terrence's smirk disappeared.

Immediately.

Oops.

Maybe I went too far.

For the first time, genuine emotion crossed his face.

Anger.

Raw.

Sharp.

Painful.

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

I saw it happen.

His shoulders tensed.

His jaw clenched.

The room suddenly felt colder.

Madame Beatrice looked horrified.

"Myra!"

I regretted it immediately.

Not because I was afraid.

But because of the look in his eyes.

I had hit a wound.

A deep one.

Terrence stared at me for several long seconds.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound shocked all three of us.

Including him.

"Interesting."

His voice was quieter now.

Almost thoughtful.

"You lasted longer than the others."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"The last maid cried."

He shrugged.

"The one before her quit after two days."

"Then they were weak."

The words escaped before I could stop them.

His eyebrow lifted.

"And you're strong?"

"No."

I shook my head.

"I'm desperate."

That seemed to catch him off guard.

For the first time, he actually looked at me.

Not my clothes.

Not my appearance.

Me.

I held his gaze.

"You need a maid."

I pointed at myself.

"I need money."

A pause.

"Sounds fair."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Another almost-smile.

Then he turned his wheelchair toward his desk.

Conversation over.

Dismissed.

Typical.

"Your room is next door, You will start next week"

I blinked.

What?

Terrence opened a book.

Apparently finished with me.

Without even looking up, he added,

"Try not to be annoying."

I smiled.

Too late.

"I'll do my best, Young Master."

The look he gave me suggested he already doubted that.

And somehow...

I had a feeling this wasn't going to be an easy year for either of us.