Chapter 4 Echoes Of Past

Lena stood at the threshold of her new living quarters, staring at the space she was expected to call home. The guest suite in the Hale mansion was as pristine and impersonal as the rest of the house-too large, too cold, too eerily perfect.

A king-sized bed with crisp white sheets dominated the room, flanked by matching nightstands. A reading nook sat by the massive window, besides a plush armchair. A walk-in closet stood open, empty except for a few hangers, waiting for her to fill it with the pieces of her new life.

She set her small suitcase down near the bed. It was the only thing she had brought with her. Everything else from her previous life had no place here. She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands across her arms. The silence was deafening.

The house was enormous, yet empty. It looked more like something on display than a person's home. Just sleek walls, expensive furniture, and an unspoken weight pressing down on everything.

Damien. The thought of him being just a few rooms away unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. She hadn't seen him since their tense interaction after the interview. He had barely looked at her when she arrived that afternoon. One of the staff had led her to her room, efficiently handing her an itinerary with Ethan's schedule and the household rules before vanishing into the void that is the Hale Mansion.

The house had many employees-housekeepers, a chef, a driver-but they were almost invisible, working silently in the background. Even they seemed to carry a stiffness, as if reflecting the demeanor of the man who employed them.

She glanced at the itinerary in her hands.

Breakfast at 7 AM

Ethan's homeschooling schedule

His therapy sessions

Dinner expectations

At the bottom, in sharp, bold print, was a single rule: No Personal Involvement.

Lena swallowed hard. The boundary was clear. He wanted a nanny, nothing more.

Good, it was what she needed. So why did it feel like she had stepped into dangerous territory the moment she walked through those doors?

---

That night, unable to sleep, Lena wandered through the darkened halls, her bare feet silent against the marble. She had planned to go to the kitchen for a glass of water, but something else pulled her in another direction.

A sound, she followed it, her breath catching when she realized what it was.

Piano music. A deep, melancholic melody drifted through the corridors, pulling at something buried inside her. She hesitated outside the half-open door to the library. Inside, bathed in the glow of a single lamp, Damien sat at a grand piano, his fingers moving over the keys gracefully, in contrast to the cold man she had seen earlier.

She had never seen him play before; she had never known he could. This was different from the ruthless businessman, the detached employer. This Damien was something else entirely-unguarded, lost in the music, his expression unreadable but his body tense with emotion.

She took a step closer, the floor creaking softly under her weight, barely noticeable over the music.

The music stopped.

Damien's head snapped up. His sharp gaze locked onto her, the tension in the room shifting instantly. Neither of them spoke. Then, in a voice colder than the air between them, he said, "I didn't hire you to wander my house at night."

Lena's fingers curled at her sides. "I was just-"

"You should be asleep."

His words were clipped, dismissive. The walls were back up. Whatever she had just witnessed-whatever part of him had been exposed-was gone. She wanted to push, to ask him why he played, why he looked so different in that moment, but she forced herself to swallow the words.

It didn't matter.

"I was going to the kitchen," she said instead, carefully keeping her tone even. "Then I heard the music." His jaw tensed, and for a split second, something flickered in his amber eyes. Something dangerously close to recognition.

She had to leave. Now. But before she could, Damien's next words stopped her cold.

"You remind me of someone."

Her heart slammed against her chest. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral. "Is that so?" His gaze darkened, assessing her, but he didn't say anything more. Lena didn't wait for him to answer, she spun around and walked out, her pulse roaring in her ears.

---

The ballroom had been dazzling, all crystal chandeliers and swirling silk gowns, the kind of setting that didn't belong to people like her. Lena had only been there because of her friend, who had somehow dragged her into this world of wealth and power for one night. She had planned to stay in the background, sip expensive champagne, and admire the kind of life she would never have.

Then she saw him. Damien Hale. He wasn't the ruthless billionaire then, maybe he had been, but not to her. Their eyes met across the room, and for a moment, it was like no one else was there.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he crossed the ballroom and stopped in front of her. "You don't belong here," he had said, but there was no malice in it, only curiosity.

Lena had tilted her head, a playful smirk. "And you do?"

The corner of his mouth had twitched, amusement sone in his sharp amber eyes. "Unfortunately."

Lena had arched a brow. "Unfortunately?"

He exhaled, glancing briefly around the ballroom before looking back at her. "These events are all the same. Just business deals wrapped in overpriced champagne and empty conversations."

She replied sarcastically. "Sounds exhausting."

"You have no idea."

Their banter had been effortless, electric. Even then, she had felt it-the pull, the quiet inevitability of whatever this was and where it was headed.

Damien had studied her for a long moment, then extended a hand. "Dance with me."

Lena had hesitated. Not because she didn't want to, but because she knew stepping into his world, even for one night, would be dangerous. Nevertheless, she took his hand anyway.

The moment his palm pressed against hers, her world shifted. He had led her onto the dance floor, his grip firm but careful, as if he had expected her to run at any second. She had placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the solid strength beneath his suit, and the orchestra's melody had faded into the background.

It was just them. The chemistry had been undeniable. "Who are you?" he had asked quietly, his voice just for her. Lena had smiled, a secret hidden behind her lips. "No one important."

His grip on her waist had tightened slightly. "I don't believe that."

And for the first time in a long time, neither had she.

---

Lena sat curled in the armchair in her suite, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the floor. That night had been the beginning. The moment everything had changed. and now, two years later, she was back in his world-but not as the woman he had once held in his arms. Now, she was just his employee. Nothing more. Lena exhaled sharply, pushing herself up from the chair. She needed to sleep. Tomorrow was her first full day as Ethan's nanny, and she couldn't afford to be distracted.

She climbed into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and forced her eyes shut, but Damien's words from earlier wouldn't leave her---You remind me of someone. Her chest ached.