Chapter One: The Inheritance
The death of Maxwell Trent, the billionaire founder of Maxwell Enterprise , sent shockwaves through the business world. Tributes flooded every major news outlet. Articles chronicled his journey from a humble electronics merchant to a tech and logistics magnate. But what truly caught the world's attention wasn't his wealth—it was his heir.
Nathan Trent.
Young. Handsome. Charismatic. Infamous.
Rumors swirled like wildfire about the enigmatic only son of the late tycoon. Born with a silver spoon and educated in the best business schools abroad, Nathan was every gossip blog's favorite headline. Whether it was his wild club nights or the parade of stunning women on his arm, Nathan's name came with equal parts admiration and scandal.
And now… he was the new CEO.
---
The tall glass doors of Maxwell Enterprise glistened under the Monday morning sun. The company's skyscraper was nestled in the heart of the city, a towering symbol of ambition and legacy.
Staff had arrived earlier than usual. The lobby buzzed with nerves and excitement. Whispers floated through the air like perfume.
> "Is he really as handsome as the pictures?"
"I heard he rejected three proposals from top fashion CEOs!"
"Kristy is going to eat him alive."
Then came the unmistakable roar of a sleek black Maserati pulling into the private entrance.
The doors parted.
He walked in.
Nathan Trent.
Tailored navy-blue suit. White shirt, crisp and open at the collar. Sunglasses pushed up into his chestnut brown hair. Confidence rolled off him like waves from the sea. His aura sucked the air out of the room.
People paused mid-step. Conversations died.
He didn't smile. Didn't wave. He simply walked through the lobby as if he owned the world—because in that moment, he did.
The new king had arrived.
---
From her glass-paneled office on the 18th floor, Kristy Bennett watched him descend like a god among men. Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
Kristy was no ordinary assistant. She was his assistant now—curvy, cunning, and dangerously ambitious. Dressed in a fitted red dress that hugged every inch of her figure, she swayed through the hallway like a storm coming.
By the time Nathan reached the executive floor, she was already there, leaning against the door of his office.
"Nathan," she purred, brushing a strand of platinum hair from her face. "Welcome home."
He raised a brow, mildly amused. "I see my father didn't exaggerate your… enthusiasm."
Kristy leaned in. "I only serve the best."
He looked at her—long and hard—then stepped into his new office.
Everything smelled new, like fresh paint and legacy. The massive desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, family portraits on the wall. But none of it impressed him.
Only one thing caught his eye—a photo of his father shaking hands with a young Nathan on his graduation day.
For a fleeting second, emotion flickered in his eyes.
Then it vanished.
---
Back at the mansion on Rosewood Hills, Emily adjusted the vases in the hallway. She had been dusting since morning, preparing for Nathan's arrival.
The house—more like a private palace—was gifted to Nathan in his father's will. A ten-bedroom masterpiece with marble floors, chandeliers, an indoor pool, and a staff of three.
Except Nathan didn't want a staff. He only kept Steve the gate man, and Emily, his maid.
And Emily? She wasn't just any maid.
At 22, Emily was breathtaking—long chestnut curls, big hazel eyes, soft porcelain skin, and a quiet grace. She was an orphan raised by the church, and had been working at the Trents for four years. Loyal, discreet, and heartbreakingly in love with a man who didn't know she existed in that way.
Nathan.
He had never noticed how her lips trembled when she handed him a glass of water.
Or how her eyes lingered on him when he walked past shirtless after a late-night party.
He never knew how many times she stood outside his room, holding towels and aspirin after he stumbled home drunk with another girl, pretending she didn't hear what was happening inside.
Because Nathan never looked at Emily.
Not really.
But Emily? She saw him.
All of him.
---
"Boss is on his way," Steve said, stepping into the hallway with a grin. His gray uniform was freshly ironed.
Emily smiled, brushing her hands on her apron. "Did you make sure the gate cameras are working?"
"Checked them twice," he said. "This house hasn't had life since the old man passed. It'll be good to have the young blood around."
Emily nodded, but her stomach twisted.
She had cleaned his room three times already, ironed his bedsheets twice, and cooked enough to feed ten. Why was she so nervous?
Because he hadn't stepped foot in this house since the funeral.
Because she knew—somehow—everything was about to change.
---
Back at the office, Nathan sat in his chair, spinning slowly as board members filed into the conference room for their first official meeting with him.
Kristy walked in behind him, carrying a file and her signature smirk.
"Your father left you a beast of a company," she said, setting the papers before him. "But you already knew that."
Nathan skimmed the file, barely listening. "I'm not here to play house."
Kristy leaned in. "Good. Because I don't play either."
Their eyes locked—an unspoken fire sparking between them. It wasn't love. It wasn't even affection.
It was possession.
"I'm here to prove I'm not just my father's son," Nathan said coolly.
"And I'm here to help you make headlines," Kristy replied, her tongue brushing her red lips.
---
Hours later, the company's press release was out.
> Nathan Trent Officially Takes Over as CEO of Maxwell Enterprise
.
Stocks soared.
Cameras flashed.
The city buzzed.
But Nathan didn't linger. He had no interest in interviews or social appearances. The car was waiting.
As he entered the backseat, he finally let out a breath. His father was gone. The weight of legacy now sat on his shoulders.
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
"Take me home," he said.
---
The gates of the Rosewood mansion swung open.
Steve stood at attention as the car rolled in. "Welcome home, sir."
Nathan nodded, stepping out with the grace of a man born to rule. The evening breeze ruffled his jacket.
Emily stood by the front door, heart pounding.
He looked taller. Stronger. Colder.
His eyes brushed over her briefly.
"You're Emily, right?" he asked.
Her heart skipped. "Y-yes, sir."
He brushed past her.
No hug. No handshake. Just Nathan being Nathan.
She stared after him, blinking away the sting in her eyes.
But then—he stopped.
Turned around.
Looked directly at her.
"You cooked?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
Then he disappeared into the house.
---
That night, Emily lay in bed, heart torn between two truths.
She loved a man who didn't know she existed.
And now… she was living under the same roof with him.
---
Meanwhile, in his room, Nathan dropped his jacket, poured himself a drink, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.
Everything he had ever wanted was his.
The company. The mansion. The legacy.
And yet, there was an emptiness he couldn't shake.
He turned off the lights and climbed into bed.
But sleep didn't come.
Because something in that house felt… different.
And he had no idea it was the woman quietly loving him from the shadows.