Amara Hale never imagined her life would come down to one phone call.
The ceiling fan above her head creaked as it turned, pushing hot air around the small room. Outside, the evening noise of the street drifted in—vendors calling out, motorcycles passing, someone arguing over change. Life was going on as usual, but hers felt like it was standing still.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
She stared at the screen for a long moment before answering.
"Hello?" her voice came out softer than she intended.
"Miss Hale?" a man's voice asked, formal and cold. "You applied for the personal assistant position at Blackwood Holdings."
Her heart skipped.
"Yes," she replied quickly. "Yes, I did."
"There has been a change," he continued. "The position is no longer office-based. It is live-in."
Amara's fingers tightened around the phone.
Live-in?
"I… I don't understand," she said carefully.
"You will stay at the employer's residence. All expenses covered. Salary remains the same."
Her mind raced. She thought of the hospital bills folded neatly in her bag. Thought of her younger brother lying on a narrow bed, pretending not to be in pain so she wouldn't worry. Thought of how close she was to losing everything.
"When do I start?" she asked.
There was a pause on the other end.
"Tonight."
The gate was taller than anything Amara had ever seen.
She stood outside the massive black iron bars, her small suitcase beside her, staring up at the house beyond. The building looked more like a fortress than a home—quiet, cold, intimidating.
This was a mistake, she told herself.
But before she could change her mind, the gate slowly opened.
A man in a dark suit gestured for her to enter without a word.
Inside, everything felt too big. The lights were dim, the air cool, the floors polished to the point where her footsteps echoed. No laughter. No warmth. Just silence.
"She's here," the man announced.
A door opened somewhere ahead.
And then he appeared.
Lucien Blackwood.
Amara felt it before she understood it—the weight of his presence. He was tall, dressed simply in black, his expression unreadable. His eyes were dark and sharp, like they saw everything and trusted nothing.
"You're late," he said.
"I—" Amara swallowed. "I'm sorry. The traffic—"
"I don't care," he interrupted calmly.
Her cheeks burned, but she lowered her head. "It won't happen again, sir."
He studied her for a moment, as if deciding whether she was worth the trouble. Then he turned.
"Follow me."
They walked in silence. Every step felt heavier than the last.
"This is not a normal job," Lucien said without looking at her. "You will work. You will remain invisible. And you will not interfere in my life."
"Yes, sir," she replied.
He stopped suddenly and turned to face her.
"No personal questions. No emotional attachments. If you break the rules, you leave."
Amara met his eyes for the first time.
"I understand."
For a brief second, something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe. Then it was gone.
"This is your room," he said, opening a door. "Dinner is at eight. Don't be late again."
He left without another word.
Amara stood alone in the quiet room, her heart pounding.
She sat on the bed slowly, pressing her palm to her chest.
She had no idea what kind of man Lucien Blackwood was.
But one thing was clear.
Taking this job had already changed everything.