The Maid He Chooses To Be His Wife

Inside the sprawling foyer, Sofia kneels on the glossy marble floor. Her rag moves in steady circles beneath the magnificent crystal chandelier.

A fellow maid peeks out from behind a marble pillar and nudges her with a grin.

"Look at that chandelier, Sofia! The Vances really want to show off today."

Sofia briefly glances up at the newly installed chandelier before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Keep your voice down before Madam Helen catches us talking."

"I hope a billionaire falls in love with me too. Ugh, I’m so jealous. If you ever think about finding someone, Sofia, make sure he’s wealthy."

Clara leans closer with a knowing smile.

"You should find a billionaire husband too."

Sofia gives her a soft smile and shakes her head. Her hands continue working steadily.

"I don’t need a rich husband, Clara. Money is nice, but it isn’t everything. If I ever get married, I just want a man who is kind, hardworking, and treats me well. Even if we have very little, as long as we’re happy and at peace together, that’s enough for me."

At twenty-four, Sofia has no idea if there is someone out there for her.

"Faster! Move those hands, Sofia!"

Mrs. Helen storms toward her, her eyes narrowed into cold slits.

"The future son-in-law of the Vance family will arrive any second. If I see even a single speck of dust when his car pulls up, you’ll spend the entire night scrubbing the basement until your fingers are raw!"

"Yes, Madam. I’m hurrying," Sofia stammers, bowing her head until it nearly touches the floor.

Her voice trembles as she speaks.

"You’d better be, or you’ll regret the day you were born!" Helen snaps before turning away.

Sofia scrubs even harder, the friction against her skin making her hands ache.

"They’re here! Everyone, straighten up!" a senior maid whispers loudly across the hallway.

Outside, the heavy iron gates swing open as a convoy of sleek black luxury SUVs rolls smoothly into the property.

The lead vehicle comes to a stop, and a uniformed chauffeur immediately steps forward and opens the rear door.

Edward Dallion emerges, his tailored charcoal suit fitting him with immaculate precision. His cold, piercing eyes sweep across the opulent mansion without the slightest hint of awe.

"Keep your heads down. Do not look at him," the head guard quietly warns the junior staff.

Edward lifts his wrist and adjusts his expensive watch with an air of complete indifference.

"This better not be a complete waste of my afternoon."

Daniel Brooks steps out from the other side of the vehicle and follows closely behind him.

"I’m afraid your parents left you no choice, Mr. Dallion. They made it explicitly clear that they won’t accept another refusal from you."

Inside the foyer, Sofia hurriedly finishes the final corner of the floor. She keeps her head lowered, her eyes fixed on the marble as she tries to make herself as small and invisible as possible.

The heavy doors swing open.

Edward steps inside, the sharp click of his polished leather shoes echoing across the pristine marble.

As they walk through the entrance, Daniel flips open a leather-bound folder and hands him several documents.

"Sir, we still need your signature on the acquisition clearance papers before tomorrow’s board meeting."

Edward glances down at the paperwork while keeping his stride steady. He casually reaches into his suit pocket for his pen.

It slips from his fingers.

The sleek black fountain pen skids across the polished floor before spinning to a stop several feet away.

"Watch out!" Daniel murmurs.

Acting on instinct, Sofia quickly moves forward on her knees and reaches for it.

She scoops up the pen and carefully holds it between both hands.

When she shifts upright and looks up to return it, her breath catches.

She freezes.

Edward stands directly in front of her, towering over her small frame.

His sharp, analytical eyes sweep over her old, faded maid’s uniform before settling on the faint yellowish-purple bruises barely visible beneath the edge of her rolled-up sleeves.

Sofia’s fingers tremble as she extends the pen toward him.

"I—I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to get in your way."

Edward reaches down and takes the pen from her hands.

"Thank you."

The simple act of courtesy makes Sofia flinch.

She immediately lowers her head again.

"N—No... thank you, sir. Please forgive me."

Up close, Edward notices the tremor running through her shoulders.

It isn’t the nervous excitement of someone starstruck.

It is fear.

She reacts to a simple expression of courtesy as though it is something completely unfamiliar.

Edward’s dark brows draw together in subtle confusion.

Mrs. Helen clears her throat, breaking the silence.

"The Vance family is waiting for you in the receiving parlor, Mr. Dallion."

Edward gives Sofia one last look before turning away.

"Lead the way."

Sofia remains frozen on the floor long after his footsteps disappear into the grand reception hall.

For the first time, she realizes that a guest has spoken to her with simple courtesy instead of contempt.

Upstairs, far from the servants’ quarters, Vanessa Vance stands rigidly before an enormous golden-framed mirror while three nervous stylists frantically pin and adjust her custom designer gown.

"Is the hem straight? And don’t you dare prick me!"

"Apologies, Miss Vanessa. It’s almost perfect," the terrified stylist stammers.

Vanessa studies her reflection with a smug smile.

"So... Edward Dallion has finally decided to show his face."

One of the stylists beams as she tries to flatter her.

"Oh, Miss Vanessa, look at you! Once you marry him, you’ll officially become the richest and most powerful woman in the country."

Vanessa lets out an arrogant laugh.

"Please. I already deserve that title with or without him."

She saunters toward the tall arched window and looks down with disdain.

"Everything in this world naturally belongs to those born at the top. We are destined to rule."

Her gaze drifts downward.

Below, Sofia quietly carries a basket of laundry across the courtyard.

Vanessa’s lips curl in disgust.

"...Unlike some wretched creatures who belong in the dirt."

She turns away from the window, dismissing Sofia from her mind.

An hour later, the formal dinner begins in the mansion’s opulent dining hall.

Massive crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, warm glow over the long table, where silver tableware gleams beneath the light.

Edward sits rigidly across from Vanessa as the two families discuss business, alliances, and social status.

"To a prosperous alliance between the Dallion and Vance families," Mr. Vance says, raising his glass.

"To the future of our families," Mr. Dallion replies, clinking his glass against his.

Across the room, Vanessa notices Sofia standing silently beside the dining table, her attention fixed entirely on Edward. A sudden flash of irritation surges through Vanessa.

"You," Vanessa snaps, her voice cutting sharply through the air.

Sofia immediately lowers her gaze in submission.

"Yes, Madam?" Sofia asks, her voice trembling slightly.

"What are you looking at?" Vanessa demands, stepping up the tension.

"I—I’m sorry, Madam," Sofia stammers, shrinking under the intense glare.

"Then stop standing there like an idiot. Serve us."

"Yes, Madam," Sofia replies quickly, desperate to diffuse the situation.