Xavier stared through the tinted glass as the massive wrought-iron gates of the Vane Estate swung open. This wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of white stone and glass, glowing like a cold jewel under the moonlight. As the Rolls-Royce pulled up to the grand entrance, a line of staff in dark uniforms stood waiting.
"Remember," Seraphina said, finally putting her tablet away. She turned to him, her eyes locking onto his with a warning that chilled him more than the rain. "In front of them, you are the man I chose. You are the man who won the heart of the Ice Queen. One slip, one look of fear, and the contract is void. Do you understand?"
Xavier swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I understand."
"Good." She didn't wait. The chauffeur opened the door, and Seraphina stepped out with the grace of a panther.
Xavier followed, his worn-out sneakers feeling loud and heavy on the pristine gravel. As they entered the foyer, the air was filled with the scent of fresh lilies and expensive wax. A tall man with graying hair stepped forward, bowing slightly.
"Welcome home, Madam Vane. Welcome, Mr. Xavier."
"Thank you, Arthur," Seraphina replied, her voice suddenly smoother, warmer—the act had already begun. "Xavier has had a long day. Show him to the East Wing. Have the tailors arrive at 6:00 AM. He cannot be seen in... that... again."
She glanced at his faded jacket one last time before turning toward the grand staircase.
"One more thing, Xavier," she called out, pausing on the marble steps. She didn't turn around, but her reflection in the giant hallway mirror was watching him. "The East Wing is yours. The gardens are yours. But the door at the end of the north corridor, the one leading down... stays locked. If I find you near it, you won't just lose the money. You'll lose your shadow."
With that, she disappeared into the darkness of the upper floors.
Arthur turned to Xavier, his face unreadable. "This way, sir. Your cage—I mean, your suite—is ready."
Xavier stood in the center of the hall, surrounded by millions of dollars of art, yet he had never felt poorer in his life. He looked toward the north corridor, the shadows there seeming to pulse with a secret. The basement. What was she hiding that was worth a billionaire's reputation?