The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the estate, casting golden light across the polished floors. Nora stood quietly in the grand hallway, adjusting the silver tray in her hands. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her face remained emotionless, as always — a mask she had worn since she was a child.
Today was different. She had been summoned to the main wing, not by the housekeeper, but by him. The man whose presence seemed to command the air itself — cold, dominant, and dangerous.
Zayan Kai.
She had heard whispers of his name before, carried like smoke through the corridors. A man feared by many and obeyed by all. And now, he stood before her.
"You. Speak," he said, his voice deep, smooth, and tinged with curiosity. "What's your name?"
She hesitated, lips parting slowly. Speaking wasn't something she did often.
"N-Nora… Lilith," she said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
Zayan tilted his head, observing her as though her name had meaning — as if it unlocked something buried within him. Then, he gave a slight nod, turning away.
"You'll serve at the garden party this afternoon. Don't make a mess."
Don't make a mess.
Nora clung to those words later that day as she weaved through the crowd of wealthy, pampered guests. The garden was decorated with crystal glasses, white roses, and golden linen. Her tray was heavy with drinks as she walked carefully across the lawn.
That's when it happened.
A clumsy guest bumped into her, causing the tray to tilt. A crystal flute of red wine slipped, its contents splashing across the pale pink dress of a tall, sharp-featured woman.
Gasps echoed.
The woman looked down at her ruined gown, then slowly turned to Nora. "You stupid, worthless girl!" she spat.
Before Nora could utter a word of apology, a stinging pain exploded across her cheek. The slap rang through the garden like a gunshot. Her head jerked to the side, hair falling across her face as silence descended.
Nora didn't cry. She didn't speak. She simply stood still, humiliated, her cheek burning.
But Zayan Kai had seen everything.
From across the garden, his icy eyes narrowed. He handed his glass to a servant and walked toward them with the precision of a predator.
"Miss Evangeline," he said coolly, addressing the woman who had struck Nora. "Did your father never teach you manners, or did he just forget to teach you not to lay hands on my staff?"
Evangeline paled. "I—I didn't mean—"
"You ruined your own dress by moving without looking. If you want compensation, bill your tailor. And if you ever touch what belongs to me again…" His voice dropped, razor-sharp. "You'll regret it."
The guests turned away, pretending not to watch as Evangeline retreated in shame.
Zayan turned to Nora. She stood still, eyes lowered. He reached out slowly, his fingers lifting her chin until her eyes met his.
"You belong here," he said, voice low but sure. "And no one lays a hand on what's mine."
Nora didn't respond. She couldn't. But something in her chest stirred — something unfamiliar, dangerous, and warm.
For the first time, someone had defended her.
And that someone was the Devil himself.