Cream colored walls

I was still trying to settle in — mentally, emotionally and physically. 

To my surprise, Miss Yvonne hadn’t led me to the maid’s quarters tucked away like Marcus always did back in the basement. Instead, she brought me to the second floor… to a quiet room just opposite hers.

Her warmth had caught me off guard, especially the soft tone of her voice, the motherly gleam in her eyes. It made something flutter in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in a long time: I felt safe.

The moment I stepped into the room, my breath hitched. Cream-colored walls bathed in golden light, a bed that looked far too soft and beautiful for someone like me, and pillows that whispered comfort. I stood frozen for a second, afraid it was all a dream.

Then I let go. With a quiet laugh, I threw myself onto the bed, sinking into the mattress like a child discovering heaven. I let the comfort swallow me whole even if just for a moment and pretended that I belonged

But Julian’s chiseled face flashed through my mind.

Those piercing blue eyes… that strange, unexplainable feeling when he looked at me. Like we weren’t strangers at all. Like I knew him.

“Lexi, get a grip,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t afford distractions especially not this kind. Still, my heart skipped a beat just thinking about him. Ugh. He must have been a god in his past life. So freaking handsome. 

And then, there was a beep. 

The sound jolted me upright. My hearing aid! I totally forgot about it.

My stomach twisted as I remembered exactly what it meant. I tapped it on, my fingers slightly trembling.

Marcus’s voice crackled in my ear. Cold and menacing. 

“Little missy, I’m sure you’ve settled in by now. Don’t get too carried away by the wonders of the villa. And don’t forget to keep me posted.”

Beep.

There was silence again. I realized I’d been holding my breath and let it out slowly, my chest tight with unease.

“This man will be the death of me,” I whispered, curling up on the bed as dread coiled like a snake in my gut.

**

A soft knock stirred me awake.

My eyes flew open, heart thudding in my chest like it was on a horse racing. I sat up sharply, breathing uneven. For a second, I thought I was back there in the underworld where every sound meant danger, every knock a warning.

The knock came again, but slower and gentler this time.

Then it hit me that I wasn’t there anymore. I finally released the breath I didn't realize I was holding. 

The door creaked open, and Miss Yvonne stepped in. Her expression was warm, but worried.

“You okay? I’ve been knocking for a while,” she said, her voice soft like a mother trying not to startle a child.

I blinked, trying to gather myself. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I must’ve dozed off. Totally forgot you asked me to come for lunch,” I said, my voice low, almost embarrassed. Silly me. No one knocked in Marcus’s world. There, doors flew open with fists and fear.

Miss Yvonne’s smile was kind and forgiving. “No need to apologize, dear. You’ve been resting a long while, so I thought you’d be hungry by now.”

Something in me moved. Her warmth, her patience... I wasn’t used to this. Not in twelve years. It hit me harder than I expected.

“Thank you, Miss Yvonne,” I said quietly, walking with her toward the dining room, my steps still calculated. 

Then I saw the table and my breath caught.

Golden pancakes stacked like soft pillows, crispy chicken, fluffy scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit arranged like it belonged in a magazine. The smell alone wrapped around me like comfort.

“Wow... this looks amazing,” I said, the words spilling out before I could hold them back. My stomach growled loudly, like it was announcing its excitement too.

This was the first real meal I’d seen in years.

Back in Marcus’s underground, meals came once a day if you were lucky. And when punishment came, even water was a privilege.

Miss Yvonne sat nearby, her smile never fading as she watched me eat. She didn’t ask questions but I could see curiosity in her eyes. I guess she's itching to ask about where I came from but she didn’t press. That silence was its own kind of kindness.

But just as I picked up another piece of fruit, I noticed her flinch.

She stood up quickly, then winced, one hand going to her chest. Her face tightened for a moment, and the smile she wore faltered.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” I asked, my tone was heavy with concern. 

“I’m fine,” she replied, though her voice was thinner now. “Just need a little rest. You go ahead and eat. Damen will show you around when you’re done.”

I nodded, watching her walk away slowly.

For the first time in forever, I felt something unfamiliar stir in my chest. A quiet, aching kind of affection.

I hope she’s okay, I thought.

—

Feeling a wave of boredom and maybe a little guilt, I stepped out of the fairy-like room I’d grown far too attached to. Everything about it was enchanting, like it belonged to some movies. But reality always finds a way to crash in.

Should I start my maid duties now? I thought as I shut the door behind me. Truth was, I didn’t really have a choice. Marcus’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in my head, his cold warning pressing on my chest like a weight: You have a week, Alexa. Don’t test me.

The villa map Damen handed me earlier came in handy. I navigated my way to the master’s floor, the topmost level in this ridiculous mansion. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I stopped in my tracks.

My breath hitched. The entire corridor looked like something out of a billionaire’s fantasy. What kind of wealth lives here? I whispered to myself, slightly breathless.

As I scanned, then I saw his room.. The master’s bedroom.

My fingers trembled as I approached the door, Miss Yvonne’s warning ringing loud in my ears: “Clean up only. Don’t touch anything in that room. It’s not safe for you.”

I swallowed. What could possibly be so dangerous about a room? But who am I kidding? It's Salvatore Julian's room. 

With one deep breath, I turned the knob and stepped inside and immediately forgot how to breathe.

It was beautiful and enchanting 

Everything in there was white. The bedspread, the curtains, the chairs. The light pouring in from the wide windows gave it all a soft, dreamy glow. The faint scent of sandalwood and almond floated in the air, calming and rich. It was like stepping into another world of fantasy. 

But what truly caught my eye was a painting.

It hung alone on the far wall. It was a half-moon cradled in a tiny hand. I walked toward it as if pulled by a string. There was something about it. Something that stirred a quiet ache in my chest. Like a memory buried too deep to reach but not deep enough to forget.

“Beautiful,” I whispered, brushing my fingers gently across the edge of the canvas. Then I snapped myself out of it.

Focus, Lexi. You’re not here to admire art. But damn, it was too familiar. 

I quickly got to work, pretending to clean while my heart raced with a single mission; Find the golden watch.

I started with the drawers. One by one, I opened them, careful not to make noise. Nothing. Not even close. Then my eyes fell on what looked like a curtain, but softer and heavier like velvet. I rushed to it, pulled it aside... and gasped.

Jewelry boxes. Stacks of them. Gold, silver, diamonds, name them. More than enough to buy ten lives. I could barely blink, but I didn’t have time to be stunned. I dug through everything, searching, hands moving fast but careful. Still, no golden watch.

Then I saw another door, an inner closet, just slightly ajar.

That has to be it.

My pulse quickened as I stepped inside. It was dim, quiet, and organized to perfection. Suits lined up like soldiers. Shelves gleaming with polished shoes and cufflinks. Everything screamed power.

I searched desperately, brushing through jackets and drawers when I heard a click. 

My heart skipped a beat, the door creaked and I froze. 

My breath caught in my throat, and my body went ice cold. Oh no!