Pale sunlight streamed through the soaring window, waking Clara from a restless sleep. She was still in that cold bridal chamber. The first sensation wasn't the comfort of the luxurious bed, but the unease stemming from the unfamiliar surroundings and the mission dangling overhead.
Changing the cumbersome wedding dress for a simple silk nightgown found in the dressing room, Clara stepped out into the corridor. This time, she heard movement. A middle-aged woman in a black uniform was approaching from down the long hall. She had a severe face and sharp eyes.
"Madam is awake," the woman said, her voice even, devoid of emotion. "Please follow me down for breakfast."
"You are...?" Clara asked.
"I am Butler Reid, responsible for all affairs within the Goldsmiths mansion," she replied, inclining her head in a formal bow, but her gaze remained cold.
Clara followed Butler Ried down the grand staircase. Along the way, she caught glimpses of a few other servants, all in black uniforms, moving silently, barely making a sound. They bowed as Clara passed, but none looked up or spoke a word. The air in the mansion remained heavy and oppressive.
The vast dining room was set with a lavish spread, but only one place setting was laid out. Clara sat down. Butler Reid and a few servants stood rigidly to one side, ready to serve. The breakfast was delicious, but Clara had no appetite at all under the weight of those unseen eyes.
When she finished her meal, Butler Reid spoke. "Madam, there are a few rules within the Goldsmiths family that Mr. Jonathan Goldsmiths has instructed me to convey to you."
"Rules?" Clara raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Please take note and adhere strictly to them." Butler Reid listed them clearly, as if reciting a well-memorized list:
"One, Madam is not to leave the mansion grounds without Mr. Jonathan Goldsmiths' permission. When venturing out, you must be escorted."
"Two, all meetings with outsiders, including members of your original family, must be reported and approved in advance."
"Three, Madam's daily schedule will be adjusted to align with the general routine of the Goldsmiths family. The Butler will inform you of specifics daily."
"Four, you are not permitted to enter Mr. Jonathan Goldsmiths' private areas or areas marked as restricted without authorization."
"Five, Madam is responsible for managing household affairs, including supervising the staff and managing expenditures within the allocated limit. However, all important decisions must be approved by Mr. Jonathan Goldsmiths or the Butler."
"Six, maintain the image and reputation of the Goldsmiths family. All actions and words must be carefully considered."
"And finally," Butler Reid paused, her gaze turning colder, "under no circumstances are you to draw any unwarranted attention from the outside. The Goldsmiths family dislikes trouble."
Clara listened, feeling as though she wasn't a wife, but an object being held captive. These rules were terrifyingly strict, cutting off nearly all her contact with the outside world, including her own family. It didn't feel like the regulations of a wealthy household, but rather the laws of a high-class prison.
"And... where are Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmiths?" Clara ventured to ask, feeling it was strange she hadn't seen any elderly figures since arriving.
Butler Reid paused slightly, a fleeting, unreadable flicker in her eyes. "Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmiths... are no longer here," she said, her voice remaining even, but holding a deeper coldness. "Mr. Jonathan Goldsmiths is currently the sole master of the Goldsmiths family."
'No longer here'? Dead? Or gone somewhere? Why? Clara felt Butler Reid's answer was concealing something. The young master of a powerful family like the Goldsmiths, living alone in this vast mansion, without his parents by his side? That was entirely abnormal.
Butler Reid offered no further explanation. She simply bowed again. "My task is complete. If Madam has any other requests, please let me know."
Clara nodded. The rules and the vague answer about Jonathan Goldsmith's parents unnerved her. This mansion wasn't just physically cold; it was cold from the secrets and suffocating control. She didn't know what Jonathan Goldsmiths looked like or what his personality was truly like, but through these rules, she could already picture a part of him – an absolute control freak, authoritarian, and perhaps, very dangerous.
The mission to kill him suddenly became harder and more terrifying than ever before. She didn't just have to face a ruthless magnate; she had to survive within this very gilded cage, where her every action was likely being monitored.
But then, the image of her frail, sick mother and depressed brother resurfaced in her mind. 100 billion USD. Freedom. She had no other choice. She had to survive, she had to learn about Jonathan Goldsmiths, and she had to find a way to complete this deadly mission.
The Goldsmiths mansion was silent as a tomb, but Clara felt the strong undercurrents flowing beneath its peaceful exterior. The survival game had truly begun.