The guest suite in the Orchid Estate was larger than Elara's entire basement apartment building. The sheets were Egyptian cotton with a thread count that felt like silk against her skin, the air was climate-controlled to a perfect 22 degrees, and the silence was heavy enough to feel like a physical weight.
She lay in the dark, her eyes tracing the intricate gold molding on the ceiling. Her portfolio sat on the velvet armchair across the room—the only thing that remained of her old life. She should have been relieved; she was no longer homeless. But as she closed her eyes, she didn't see safety. She saw five pairs of eyes, each looking at her like a prize to be won.
Restless, she sat up. Her throat was parched, the lingering taste of the city's rain still scratching at the back of her tongue. She put on the silk robe provided by the staff and stepped out into the hallway.
The mansion at night was different. The modern glass walls felt like mirrors, reflecting her small frame against the vast, cold opulence. As she navigated toward where she thought the kitchen was, she felt a presence. A shadow that didn't belong to the furniture.
"You should be sleeping," a voice rumbled.
Elara gasped, spinning around. Silas stood in the shadows of a corridor. In the daylight, he was intimidating, but in the moonlight, he was terrifying. He was shirtless, wearing only black tactical trousers. His chest and arms were a map of scars and ink—orchids, thorns, and symbols she didn't recognize.
"I... I wanted water," Elara stammered.
Silas didn't move for a long moment. Then, he stepped forward, his footsteps completely silent despite his massive size. He handed her a crystal glass of water that he had apparently been holding. "The tap water is filtered through charcoal. It's pure."
Elara took the glass, her fingers brushing against his. His skin was burning hot, a stark contrast to the cold air of the hallway. "Thank you, Silas."
"Don't thank me," he said, his voice flat. "I'm not your friend, Elara. I'm the one who ensures you don't leave this house until that map is finished."
"Is that all I am to you? A job?" she asked, her pride stinging.
Silas stepped closer, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. He smelled of rain and cedarwood. "You are a spark in a room full of gunpowder. My job is to make sure no one lights a match."
He walked past her without another word, but Elara noticed the way his hand lingered on the wall near her shoulder. He wasn't just a guard; he was a leash.
The First Morning: The Lion's Den
The next morning, Elara was summoned to the "War Room"—a high-tech office filled with holographic displays. Killian was there, looking as if he hadn't slept a wink, yet his suit was perfectly crisp.
"The restoration begins today," Killian said, not looking up from his files. "Alistair has prepared the lab. Min-ho will handle your 'public' image—we've told the press you are a distant relative visiting from abroad. Jace... well, Jace will stay out of your way if he knows what's good for him."
"And if he doesn't?" Elara challenged.
Killian finally looked up. His gray eyes were like flint. "Then you tell me. You are under the Black Orchid's protection first."
The lab was a masterpiece of technology. Every tool Elara had ever dreamed of was there—microscopes that could see individual fibers, lasers that could identify pigment chemical structures, and a climate-controlled vault for the painting.
She spent hours lost in the work. When she looked through the lens at the Orchid's Heart, the world disappeared. She saw the brushstrokes of the original master. She saw the pain in the way the colors bled together.
"You're holding the brush too tightly," a voice whispered in her ear.
She jumped, nearly smudging the delicate layer of varnish she was applying. Min-ho was leaning over her shoulder, his famous face looking playful. He wasn't wearing his idol makeup, and he looked younger, more vulnerable.
"You scared me!" she hissed.
"Sorry, sorry," he laughed, holding up his hands. "I just wanted to see if the 'genius' was actually working. You look so serious, Elara. You know, if you scowl like that, you'll get wrinkles."
He reached out and poked her forehead. Elara swiped his hand away, but she couldn't help but notice how warm his touch was. Unlike Killian's cold command or Silas's silent threat, Min-ho felt like a summer breeze—bright, but potentially a hurricane.
"Why are you really here, Min-ho?" she asked, setting her brush down.
His smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Because everyone in this house wants something from you. Killian wants power. Alistair wants knowledge. Jace wants a thrill. Silas wants a purpose."
"And you?"
Min-ho leaned against the workbench, looking at the charred painting. "I just want someone who looks at me and doesn't see a product. When you look at that painting, you see its soul. I was wondering if you could do the same for me."
Before she could answer, the door swung open. Jace Wilder strode in, looking like he had just come from a fight. There was a fresh cut on his lip.
"Break time is over, pop star," Jace growled. He looked at Elara, his eyes dark and dangerous. "Pack your things, little muse. We're going out."
"Killian said I stay here," Elara reminded him.
"Killian isn't here," Jace smirked, grabbing her wrist. His grip was firm, radiating a restless energy. "And I've got a lead on the original pigments you need. But it's in a part of town where silk robes and crystal glasses don't exist. You want to be an artist? Then come see where the colors are made."
Elara looked from Min-ho's warning gaze to Jace's challenging smirk. She realized that the "safety" of the mansion was an illusion. Each of these men was a different kind of danger.
"I'm coming," Elara said, pulling her arm back and grabbing her coat. "But don't think for a second that I'm your toy, Jace."
Jace's laugh echoed through the lab, a sound of pure, unadulterated chaos. "I like her! I really like her!"
As they headed toward the garage where a fleet of sports cars awaited, Elara felt a gaze from the balcony above. She looked up and saw Killian standing there, his expression unreadable. He didn't stop them. He simply watched, like a king watching his favorite piece move across a chessboard.
Elara realized then that the contract she signed wasn't just for a painting. It was for her life. And in the world of the Five Orchids, the only way to survive was to play them against each other before they could break her.