The morning felt strange to Olivia, as if she had woken up in someone else's life. The mansion was too quiet, too perfect, and the silence made her feel like she was walking on thin ice. After a restless night, she decided that staying holed up in her room wouldn't do her any good. She needed to move, to find something—anything—that could make her feel like she still had a shred of control over her life.
The maids were efficient, almost ghostlike as they moved about the mansion. Olivia had seen them the previous day, lined up like soldiers when Nicholas had introduced her to the house. She had barely had the energy to acknowledge them, her mind too wrapped in the whirlwind of the wedding. Now, she figured getting to know the people who worked there was the least she could do.
She wandered down the long hallways of the mansion, every inch of it screaming wealth and power. The walls were adorned with art pieces that looked like they cost more than her father's entire business, and the floors were polished to a gleaming perfection.
As she entered the kitchen, she spotted a group of maids chatting quietly while they worked, their voices dropping to whispers as soon as they noticed her presence. One of them—a woman with graying hair and a warm smile stepped forward and introduced herself.
"Mrs. King, I'm Margaret," the woman said, giving a respectful nod. "I'm the head housekeeper here."
Olivia cringed inwardly at being called "Mrs. King." She didn't feel like Nicholas's wife, not in the slightest. She forced a small smile in return. "Please, just call me Olivia. I don't want any formalities."
Margaret's smile widened, clearly pleased by her response. "Of course, Olivia. If you need anything, just let me know. We all want to make sure you're comfortable here."
Olivia nodded, but she knew "comfortable" was a long way off. She glanced at the other maids, who were all watching her curiously. It was clear that they were used to Nicholas's icy demeanor and probably didn't know how to approach his new wife.
"I'm sorry if I seem a little...lost," Olivia admitted. "This house is a bit overwhelming."
Margaret chuckled softly. "It takes some getting used to. Mr. King keeps to himself most of the time, so we don't see much of him. You'll find your rhythm here soon enough."
Olivia raised an eyebrow at that. Nicholas didn't strike her as the type to share much with anyone, let alone his staff. She imagined he probably viewed them in the same detached way he viewed everything else in his life—a means to an end.
"Do you like working for him?" Olivia asked, genuinely curious.
Margaret hesitated for a moment, glancing at the other maids before answering. "He's fair, but...distant. We do our jobs, and he lets us be. That's all we can ask for."
Olivia could sense there was more beneath the surface, but she didn't push. She thanked the maids and decided to explore the house, needing to occupy her restless mind. The mansion was vast, with sprawling rooms that seemed to go on forever. She passed through a library filled with old books, a sunroom that looked out over the gardens, and a formal dining room that was far too grand for anyone to use regularly.
But as the afternoon wore on, boredom began to creep in. There was nothing for her to do. No painting, no real tasks to keep her busy. She felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage, left to wander aimlessly within its walls.
Eventually, she found herself at the far end of the west wing, where the mansion was eerily quiet. There was something different about this part of the house—the air felt heavier, as if this section was rarely visited. Most of the doors were locked, but one in particular caught her eye. It was a thick wooden door, unmarked and slightly ajar, unlike the others. Curiosity flared in her chest.
She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle. Something about this door felt off, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering what was inside. Maybe it was a private office or a storage room. Whatever it was, it drew her in.
Her fingers grazed the cold metal of the door handle, and just as she was about to push it open, a deep voice cut through the silence like a knife.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Olivia flinched, spinning around to find Nicholas standing behind her, his face dark with anger. His jaw was clenched, and his piercing blue eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat. She had never seen him like this before—completely unhinged.
"I... I was just curious," Olivia stammered, taking a step back. "I didn't think it was a big deal."
Nicholas closed the distance between them in a few swift strides, his presence overwhelming. "You don't get to decide what's a big deal, Olivia," he growled. "That room is off-limits. Understand?"
His tone left no room for argument, but Olivia's defiance flared up despite her better judgment. "I'm your wife, Nicholas. Why can't I know what's behind that door?"
Nicholas's eyes darkened even more, and for a moment, Olivia thought he might actually lose his temper. But then he took a deep breath, reigning in his fury with visible effort.
"Because I said so," he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. "This is my house, my rules. You don't question me. Ever."
Olivia's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to back down completely. "I'm not some obedient little puppet you can order around, Nicholas. If we're going to live under the same roof, I have a right to know what you're hiding."
He stepped even closer, his face mere inches from hers. The heat from his body pressed against her, and Olivia could feel the tension crackling in the air between them. "You don't have any rights here, Olivia," he whispered coldly. "You're only here because of a deal, and don't you ever forget that."
The words cut deep, sharper than any blade. Olivia swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much they hurt. She turned on her heel and walked away, her steps quick and furious, but her mind was racing.
What was behind that door that Nicholas didn't want her to see?
She didn't know, but one thing was certain: whatever it was, it had to be something more than just another room. The cold, calculating Nicholas King wasn't the type to lose his composure unless something or someone was threatening his perfect control.
Olivia vowed then and there that she would find out what Nicholas was hiding, no matter what it took.
As she stormed back to her room, she couldn't shake the feeling that the door she had almost opened held more secrets than she could possibly imagine. Secrets that could very well be the key to understanding Nicholas King—and perhaps, even bringing him down.