The morning sun spilled weakly through the tall windows of Aiden's room, cutting across the polished floor in pale streaks. Mia carried a tray carefully, balancing two steaming cups of coffee and a small plate of pastries. Her hands shook slightly, though not from fear—she had rehearsed her words countless times in her mind, preparing for the moment she would finally confront him.
Aiden sat in his wheelchair, gray eyes sharp, fixed on the floor as if he could see straight through her. The air in the room was heavy with tension, and Mia could feel her heartbeat thundering in her chest.
"Sir… I brought your coffee," she said softly, stepping closer.
He didn't answer. Instead, the slightest twitch of his hand reached for the cup, and before she could react, he slammed it back onto the tray, sending the coffee splashing across the rug. Mia jumped back, heart pounding.
"You! Get out!" His voice was cold, sharp, like ice cutting through the room. "Pack your things. Leave. I've had enough of your presence here!"
Mia took a steadying breath, refusing to back down. "Sir… please, listen to me!" Her voice quivered, but there was determination behind it. "I can help you. I saw it...I saw your leg move. It's not gone. It can be treated. I can help you walk again."
Aiden's eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed. "You saw… my leg?" he said slowly, suspicion lacing his words. "Do you think I would believe some girl is trying to mock me? To humiliate me?"
"No, sir!" she insisted, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto his. "I'm serious. I'm not here to mock you or play games. I just… I need this job. I need to earn money to pay for my mother's surgery. If I can help you… if I can treat your leg, will you let me stay?"
He stared at her, silence stretching between them like a taut wire. For the first time, she saw hesitation flicker behind his stormy gray eyes. He was torn between disbelief, pride, and the faintest glimmer of hope he refused to acknowledge.
"You… you think you can help me?" His voice was low, almost cautious, yet tinged with skepticism. "After everything… after all I've endured, you think… you can fix this?"
"I know I can," Mia said firmly, though her heart hammered in her chest. "I may not have all the tools of a doctor, but I know enough. I've seen your leg twitch. That means there's life in it. That means it can be healed. But I can only do it if you let me stay. Please, sir… I need this job. I need the money for my mother. I can help you, but I need your trust."
Aiden leaned back, his hands gripping the wheels of his chair tightly. For a long moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable, a storm behind those gray eyes. Mia held her breath, praying he would see the truth in her words.
Finally, he spoke, slow and deliberate. "One… mistake, and you're gone. Don't think I won't follow through."
"I understand, sir," she whispered, relief flooding her voice. "I promise. I won't fail you."
Aiden's eyes softened just slightly, the smallest crack forming in his icy exterior. He gave a sharp nod. "Fine. You stay. But… understand this: one misstep, and it's over. No second chances."
Mia nodded quickly, trying to contain her excitement and relief. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
For the first time since she had entered the mansion, a fragile truce settled between them. Mia now had her chance—her bargaining chip to stay, to earn money for her mother's surgery, and to help Aiden reclaim what he had lost.
And somewhere in the shadows of the mansion, a small spark of hope ignited for both of them.
Her journey had truly begun.