The maid's quarters.
That was where I had been taken, and boy, was I shocked. The moment I stepped inside, my jaw nearly hit the floor. The room was far from the dingy, cramped space I had imagined. No, this was something else entirely. It was big...bigger than the room I used to share with my sister back home, and it was… fancy. The polished floor gleamed beneath the warm light of the chandelier hanging above, the walls were painted a soft cream, and there was a wide bed that looked like it belonged in a guest suite rather than staff quarters. A plush rug lay at the center, and to top it off, there was a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.
I blinked in disbelief. If this was how the maids lived, then I couldn't begin to imagine what Damian Carter's personal space looked like. Then again, seeing the size of this entire mansion, I should have expected nothing less than the best.
Melinda, the head maid, had been nothing but kind to me. She was cool, gentle, and spoke with a patience I didn't expect. She moved like someone who had been here for years....confident, efficient, with an authority the other maids seemed to respect. As she guided me through the mansion, I started to wonder why she was so… nice. Was it pity? Or maybe she had been new once, too, and saw a bit of herself in me.
"This way," she said softly, pointing to a long corridor. "These are the rooms you'll handle regularly. But..." her voice dropped slightly..... "there are doors and sections you must never enter. If you do… you'll be in real trouble. Do you understand?"
I nodded quickly, committing her words to memory. Every warning mattered.
I took notes of the things I thought I might forget, where the cleaning supplies were kept, the sequence for laundry, the routine for preparing Damian's meals, but the rest I memorized. By the time Melinda finished the tour, I already knew this was the beginning of my new life: the life of a maid who had been sold to a billionaire.
And today… was day one.
I wheeled the cleaning cart down the hall, my stomach in knots. My first stop was the master's room, Damian Carter himself. My palms were sweaty, and I hesitated at his door, knuckles hovering in midair.
Knock.
The sound was almost too soft, but I couldn't bring myself to be louder.
"Who's it?" His voice came from inside, groggy and low, like someone who had just woken up.
"Um… I'm here to clean your room, sir. May I come in?"
There was a muffled sound, then a lazy, "Come in."
I pushed the cart inside, careful not to look around too much. The last thing I wanted was to get caught snooping. Not on my first day. Not when the memory of being bought still burned fresh in my mind.
The room was massive, painted in muted tones of grey and white. Everything about it screamed masculine and expensive. The king-sized bed sat in the middle like a throne, draped in crisp linens. A few pieces of abstract art decorated the walls, and the air carried the faint scent of leather and cedarwood.
I forced myself to focus on the floor, on the cart, on anything but him. But curiosity betrayed me. Just one glance, I told myself. Just one.
I stole a peek at the bed. And that was when my breath hitched.
He wasn't asleep.
Those sharp blue eyes were already fixed on me, cutting through me like ice. I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs as our gazes locked.
His eyes… God, his eyes. They were dangerous. Deep, magnetic, the kind you could drown in if you weren't careful. I didn't even notice when he moved, but suddenly he was closer, just a few feet away. I swallowed hard, electricity sparking in the silence between us. Did he feel it too? Or was I the only fool being pulled under by his gaze?
His lips moved, his voice low and commanding. "You're not allowed to leave the house without my permission. When you're done with work, you stay in your room."
The coldness in his tone only amplified his beauty. He looked like a god carved from marble, dangerous, untouchable, untamed.
I cleared my throat, fumbling for words. "Um… yeah. I mean, I don't have anywhere to go, anyway. Seeing as I'm a stranger here."
He didn't reply. He simply turned away, disappearing into a side door I assumed was the bathroom.
The tension in my chest broke. I quickly finished cleaning, my hands shaking as I dusted and polished, desperate to escape before he came back. When I finally slipped out into the hallway, I let out the breath I had been holding.
What was wrong with me? Why was I swooning over him like some lovesick schoolgirl? He bought me. Bought me. I should be angry. Furious.
But… I wasn't.
And that scared me more than anything else.
Strangely, part of me was even grateful. My life had changed overnight. He had given orders for me to be provided with clothes, shoes, toiletries everything I would need. Suddenly I wasn't the girl with torn slippers and worn-out jeans anymore. I had new dresses, clean underwear, fresh makeup, even a bathroom of my own. It was as if he had prepared for me long before I arrived.
Settling in was far too easy, and that unsettled me.
Later that day, after finishing my chores, I went back to my room. The TV kept me company, but even with entertainment at my fingertips, the walls started to close in. Boredom was a slow poison. And worse, hunger gnawed at me.
I decided to sneak into the kitchen.
I found some pancake mix, eggs, and milk, and whipped up something simple. The familiar smell of pancakes soothed me, almost reminding me of home. I ate quickly, washed the dishes, and cleaned up after myself.
But curiosity got the better of me.
The mansion was far too large to explore in a single day, and Melinda hadn't shown me everything. Maybe now was my chance. Just a harmless look around, I told myself. No one would even notice.
I wandered through empty hallways, peeking into different rooms, guest suites, studies, sitting areas. Each door opened a new world of wealth. But then… I found it.
A hallway unlike the rest.
It was dim, with shadows pooling in the corners. At the far end stood a single door. My stomach tightened with unease, but curiosity pushed me forward.
Step by step, I approached, my footsteps almost soundless on the cold floor. My heart thumped louder with every breath. Something about this place felt… wrong.
I reached for the knob. Slowly, carefully, I twisted it open. The hinges didn't creak, thank God...and the door swung wide enough for me to slip through.
A staircase.
Narrow, steep, leading down into darkness.
I hesitated. Every part of me screamed to turn back. But my feet carried me downward, each step heavier than the last. At the bottom, another door loomed, its frame iron-clad and cold.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. Then I pulled it open.
The stench hit me first.
It was sharp, metallic, mixed with rot, a smell that clawed at my throat. I gagged, stumbling backward, my hand flying to cover my nose.
And then I saw them.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, lined up in grotesque order. Each wrapped in black cloth, their legs bound tightly with zip ties. My blood ran cold, the air freezing in my lungs.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My eyes widened, my hand trembling against my mouth as silent tears streaked down my face.
Dead. They were all dead.
A strangled sob escaped me. I wanted to scream, to run, but my legs felt glued to the ground.
And then.....
A hand grabbed me. Rough. Strong. Yanking me backward so hard I lost balance, nearly collapsing. I gasped, struggling, panic exploding in my chest.
A scream tore from my throat, but it was smothered instantly by a palm clamping down over my mouth.
I thrashed, my vision blurred with tears, until I finally saw his face.
Damian.
His blue eyes were no longer cold....they burned with fury. His jaw was tight, his expression dark, terrifying....
In that moment, I knew.
I was in more trouble than I had ever been in my entire life.
******
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