Chapter 3

“The Mansion”

The mansion didn’t sleep.

Even at dawn, the silence was alive. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant echo, felt amplified. I had never imagined a place could feel so vast, so cold, and so… alive all at once. My shoes echoed against the marble as I stepped cautiously into the hallway, clutching my apron bag like a shield.

“Good morning,” I whispered to myself. The words felt absurdly small in the grandiose space.

I turned a corner and almost ran into someone. A man, tall and muscular, dressed sharply in black, stood by the staircase. His eyes were piercing — dark, assessing, calculating.

“You must be Lila,” he said, his voice neutral, but there was a sharpness underneath that made my spine stiffen.

“I-I am,” I stammered. “Victor, right?”

He nodded once, expression unreadable. “Head of security. I’ll be observing your interactions — mostly with Chloe, and… with the household. Do not disappoint.”

I swallowed hard. “O-of course.”

He studied me for a moment, then turned and disappeared up the stairs. The sound of his footsteps faded, leaving a lingering weight in the hallway. I took a shaky breath. He wasn’t threatening in a conventional way, but the sheer authority he exuded made me feel small.

Breakfast was served in a sunlit dining hall that could have been in a magazine. The table was long, polished, and intimidatingly pristine. Chloe was already there, perched on a high chair, fidgeting with a piece of toast.

“Good morning,” I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady.

Chloe barely looked up. “I don’t want eggs,” she muttered, pushing the plate away.

I knelt beside her, trying to mirror her height, feeling the pressure of Cade’s expectation looming behind every interaction. “That’s okay. You can have something else. How about some fruit?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Apple.”

I sliced the apple carefully, placing the pieces in front of her. Her small hand shot out and grabbed one, and for a moment, she looked up at me with something that almost resembled trust.

Almost.

Cade entered then. The sound of his polished shoes on marble made my stomach leap. He didn’t smile. He rarely did. His eyes scanned the table, stopping briefly on Chloe, then on me.

“Morning,” he said, flat, as if testing the waters.

“Good morning,” I said softly.

He nodded once, his gaze sharp. “Follow the rules of the house. I don’t want disruptions, and I don’t tolerate incompetence. Chloe’s needs come first, but she is not the only priority.”

I nodded again, swallowing. The rules were clear — every word a weight on my shoulders.

After breakfast, I was shown around the mansion.

It was bigger than any home I had ever stepped into. Endless corridors, sparkling floors, paintings of people I didn’t recognize, and furniture that looked more like art than comfort. I tried to memorize the layout, but my mind kept wandering back to Cade’s cold gaze, to the weight of the contract, and to the small hand that had trusted me just moments ago.

Then I saw her.

Chloe darted ahead, exploring the halls as if she owned them. I followed, careful not to scold her, but worried she’d get into trouble. That’s when I ran into Victor again.

“Stay close,” he said, his eyes sweeping the corridor like a hawk. “The mansion is safe, but outsiders always find ways to enter. And Chloe… she’s your responsibility now.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I understand.”

“Good. Remember this: attention to detail can save lives.”

I felt my stomach knot. Every glance at him felt like a test, and I was acutely aware of how small and inexperienced I was compared to the adults around me.

The day moved quickly.

I helped Chloe with her lessons — basic reading and counting — and discovered she was clever but stubborn. Every small victory felt monumental, like I had scaled a mountain. But every failure, every misstep, made me feel exposed.

Cade occasionally appeared, observing silently from the doorway. Each time, his presence made me acutely aware of my own inadequacies. I felt my pulse quicken, my thoughts scatter, yet something inside me refused to break.

Around midday, I decided to tidy the study. It was a small act of control in a world where I had none. Papers were stacked neatly, surfaces wiped, and I even organized the bookshelf by author name.

“You have good instincts,” a voice said behind me.

I jumped. Cade stood there, his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“I-I just thought it might help,” I stammered.

“Attention to detail matters,” he said softly. “You’re learning fast.”

A flicker of something warm passed through me — validation, maybe, or relief. But it was fleeting. His eyes remained calculating, a reminder that one misstep could undo all progress.

By late afternoon, exhaustion hit me like a wave. I was still learning the mansion, still navigating the new power dynamics, and still trying to earn Chloe’s trust. I retreated to the small lounge near my assigned room, trying to catch my breath.

And that’s when I noticed it — a door at the end of the hallway, slightly ajar. I hadn’t seen it before. Curiosity gnawed at me.

I stepped closer. Peeking inside, I saw a man — not Cade, not Victor — moving papers quickly, looking agitated. He noticed me immediately and froze.

“Who are you?” he demanded, sharp and wary.

“I… I’m Lila. I… I live here?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked under the tension.

The man’s eyes narrowed, and a faint smile twisted his lips. “Be careful. Not everyone in this mansion wants you here.”

I blinked, heart hammering. “I… I don’t understand.”

He gave me a knowing look, then closed the door without another word. My stomach dropped.

This was supposed to be about Chloe, about surviving six months… not about secret warnings and mysterious strangers.

That evening, Chloe curled up next to me as we read a story before bed. She rested her small head on my shoulder, sleepy and trusting. I stroked her curls, but my mind was elsewhere. The mansion was beautiful, but it hid secrets. The staff were polite but guarded. Cade was relentless in his scrutiny. And now… someone had warned me.

My fingers traced the spine of the storybook, heart hammering. Six months. Six months to survive. Six months to earn trust. And six months to figure out who in this mansion truly wanted me to succeed… or fail.

And deep down, I realized…

This was only the beginning.