(Amira's POV)
The black car stopped in front of a tall, iron gate that looked like it could keep out the entire world.
My hands were sweating as I clutched my small bag, the only bag I had. The driver pressed a button, and the gate opened slowly, like it was guarding a secret.
Inside was another world.
The road curved through a garden filled with tall trees, trimmed hedges, and flowers so perfect they looked fake. When I finally viewed the mansion, I was intrigued.
It wasn't a house.
It was a palace.
White walls, glass windows that shone in the sunlight, fountains that danced in the front yard, everything about it screamed power and money.
And for the first time, I wondered if I had made a mistake signing that contract.
The car stopped in front of the main entrance.
The driver got out and opened my door. I stepped down slowly, afraid I'd somehow dirty the clean driveway just by standing on it.
Then I saw him.
Leonardo Vance stood at the top of the stairs, tall and perfectly still, like a man carved from marble. He wasn't wearing a suit this time, just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers, but he still looked every bit like the billionaire the whole country whispered about.
His eyes met mine. I froze.
"Welcome," he said, voice calm but firm. "I trust the ride was…?"
"Yes, sir," I said quickly, then remembered. "I mean… Leonardo."
He gave a small nod, then turned toward the door. "Come."
I followed him up the steps, my heart thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
Inside, the mansion was silent, the kind of silence that makes you whisper without knowing why.
The air smelled faintly of vanilla and something expensive I couldn't name. Light streamed through large glass walls, falling on marble floors so shiny I could see my reflection.
Paintings hung on the walls beautiful, sad faces staring out at me like they knew I didn't belong there.
I swallowed hard and whispered, "This place is… amazing."
Leonardo looked at me briefly. "It's just a house."
"Just a house?"
Only a man like him could say that.
A middle-aged woman appeared from the hallway. She wore a neat black dress and had her hair tied in a bun.
"This is Clara," Leonardo said. "She manages the household. She'll show you to your room and make sure you have everything you need."
Clara gave me a kind smile. "Welcome, Miss Daniels. We've been expecting you."
Expecting me. The words made me feel both special and terrified.
Leonardo's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his jaw tightening slightly. "I have a meeting," he said. "Clara will take it from here."
Then, to me, "Dinner is at eight. Don't be late."
Before I could reply, he was already walking away, his footsteps echoing through the vast hallway until he disappeared around the corner.
Clara turned back to me. "You must be exhausted after your journey. Let me show you to your room."
I followed her up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked softly on the polished floor, and I tried not to stare too much at everything—the gold-framed mirrors, the chandeliers, and the paintings.
When we reached the third floor, she opened a door at the end of the corridor.
"This will be your room," she said.
I stepped inside and froze.
The room was big; bigger than our entire apartment back home. It consisted of a soft white bed, velvet curtains, and a large window that opened to a view of the garden.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
"I'm glad you like it," Clara said. "There's a bathroom through that door and a wardrobe with a few essentials. Dinner is served downstairs every evening. And one more thing"
She hesitated.
"Yes?" I asked.
Her eyes softened, but her tone grew serious. "There are some parts of the house you shouldn't enter. Especially the east wing."
"The east wing?"
She nodded slowly. "It's private. Mr. Vance values his privacy."
I wanted to ask more, but she gave me a polite smile that clearly meant no more questions.
"Thank you, Clara," I said instead.
When she left, the room felt too quiet.
I sat on the bed and took a deep breath. Everything still felt unreal.
"Less than a week ago, I was begging for a job. Now, I was living under the same roof as Leonardo Vance, the man whose name made headlines and broke hearts" lost in thoughts.
I took out my mother's photo from my bag and placed it on the nightstand. "We did it, Mama," I whispered. "You'll get your treatment. I'll make this work."
As I unpacked my few clothes, I noticed something on the bedside table: a white envelope with my name written in neat handwriting.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a note.
House Rules: Leonardo Vance Estate
1. Be punctual.
2. Keep to your assigned spaces.
3. Never enter the east wing.
4. Dinner is mandatory.
5. Privacy is to be respected; his and yours.
6. Ask no questions about personal matters.
7. Trust is earned.
At the bottom was one final line, written in bold letters:
"Remember what you signed for."
My hands trembled as I read it again.
Remember what you signed for.
What did that even mean?
I had read every word of that contract, but now I wasn't sure I understood any of it.
A knock on the door made me jump.
It was Clara again. "Dinner will be served in thirty minutes, Miss Daniels."
"Thank you," I said quickly, hiding the paper.
She smiled gently. "Relax. You'll get used to things here."
I doubted that.
When I came down for dinner, the dining room looked like something from a magazine: a long table, candles flickering in crystal holders, and silver dishes lined neatly on a white tablecloth.
Leonardo was already seated at the head of the table.
I hesitated at the door. He looked up, eyes sharp but calm. "You're early. Good."
I walked to the other end and sat down, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet.
The food was perfect. Grilled salmon, vegetables, and warm bread were served, but I could barely taste them. I kept sneaking glances at him. His posture was perfect, his movements slow and controlled.
Finally, I gathered the courage to speak. "Thank you… for allowing me to stay here."
He didn't look up. "You earned it."
"I don't know if I did."
Now he looked up, his eyes locking on mine. "You signed the contract, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then you did."
That was all he said. But something in his tone made my stomach twist like there was more meaning behind those words than he wanted me to know.
After dinner, he stood and adjusted his sleeve. "Clara will show you the study tomorrow morning. I have a schedule for you."
I nodded. "Okay."
He walked past me, and for a moment, the faint smell of his cologne filled the clean, subtle, and expensive air.
When I looked up again, he was gone.
Clara came in soon after to clear the table. She smiled softly. "How was your first dinner?"
"Strange," I admitted.
She chuckled quietly. "It always is. You'll learn how he is soon enough."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
She hesitated. "Mr. Vance doesn't let people in easily. Don't take his silence personally."
"I'll try," I said.
She gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Rest early tonight. Tomorrow will be your first full day here."
As I walked back up to my room, I paused at the top of the stairs. The hallway was dimly lit, quiet except for the faint hum of the lights.
Then I looked towards the end of the hall.
It was darker there, almost completely shadowed.
Something about it made me stop and stare.
What could be so private that even Clara avoided it?
I shook my head and turned away. I'd already signed enough of my life away with that contract; I didn't need more trouble.
Still, as I closed my bedroom door behind me, I couldn't help glancing once more toward that dark hallway.
I didn't know it then, but that curiosity would change everything.