Chapter 3 The Mansion, the Maid, and the Morning After

The mansion was quieter in the morning. No footsteps, no clinking cutlery, just silence and the low hum of sunlight crawling through expensive glass.

Amira padded down the hallway barefoot, wrapped in a robe that probably cost more than her entire closet back home. She hadn't slept much. The mattress was too soft. The room too quiet. Her mind wouldn't shut up.

She found the kitchen by accident.

A young woman was there, stuffing a sandwich into her mouth while nervously checking the hallway like she expected to be fired mid-chew.

"Oh my God," the woman gasped when she saw her. "I swear I was just-uh, quality control."

Amira blinked. "Are you... eating the staff's breakfast?"

"No," the girl said, then paused. "Okay, yes. But in my defense, Mrs. Santiago makes the best bacon sandwiches, and I only get fifteen minutes before Elias's green juice emergency."

Amira tilted her head. "Do you work for him?"

"I work for his housekeeper, which is basically the same thing except with less money and more mop water. I'm Ivy. You must be the wife."

The last word was laced with equal parts curiosity and pity.

Amira gave a faint smile. "Amira. And yes. Apparently."

Ivy wiped her hands on her apron. "You don't look like one of his usuals."

"Usuals?"

"Models. PR disasters. The occasional minor celebrity. They never last more than a weekend."

"That's comforting."

"No offense. You just seem... smarter."

Amira leaned on the counter. "Offense not taken."

She liked Ivy instantly. There was something honest about her, like she hadn't yet been trained to speak in hushed tones or walk like she was made of glass.

"Do you want coffee?" Ivy offered.

"I already had some upstairs."

"Yeah, but that was the creepy silver tray kind. This is the real stuff."

Amira smiled. "Then yes."

As Ivy brewed a second cup, she chattered on about the house.

"There are fifteen rooms, three kitchens-don't ask me why-and a library no one uses except me and the cat. If you hear piano music at night, that's Elias. He doesn't sleep like normal people. Sometimes he just... plays."

Amira raised a brow. "He plays piano?"

"Really well. It's weird. Like he has feelings."

"Scandalous."

They laughed-an actual, real laugh that loosened something in Amira's chest.

But it didn't last.

Because then came the voice.

"Should I be concerned that my wife is fraternizing with the help?"

Amira turned.

Elias stood in the doorway, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie absent, looking like sin and authority had a baby.

Ivy straightened so fast her spine cracked. "Sir, I was just-"

"It's fine," Amira interrupted. "She was giving me a tour."

Elias didn't respond, but his gaze lingered. On Ivy. On her coffee mug. On the plate crumbs.

Ivy flushed. "I'll go, sir. Sorry."

She scurried out.

"You didn't have to intimidate her," Amira said coolly.

"I wasn't intimidating," Elias said, walking to the counter. "That's just my face."

He poured himself coffee-black, no sugar, no softness.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

"Barely."

"I'm not surprised. That room was my late father's."

Amira froze. "You put me in a dead man's bedroom?"

Elias gave a half-smile. "It's the quietest room in the house. I thought you'd appreciate the distance."

"From you?"

"From everything."

She studied him. "Is that how you live? Distant from everything?"

He didn't answer. Just sipped his coffee.

**

Later, in the library, Amira found herself flipping through a book she couldn't concentrate on.

Her thoughts wandered-back to Ivy, to Elias, to the strange tension that coiled between them like static.

She didn't trust him.

But she didn't entirely hate him either.

And that was dangerous.

**

At lunch, Lissa joined her.

"Why are you here?" Amira asked.

"I missed you. And I'm nosy."

They sat by the sunroom window, eating salad that tasted like punishment.

"So," Lissa said. "How's married life with Prince Iceberg?"

"He's... composed."

"That's code for emotionally constipated."

Amira laughed.

Lissa leaned in. "You've got about a month before he starts really testing you. Right now, he's in observation mode. Like a cat watching a mouse it hasn't decided to kill yet."

"You're very reassuring."

"I try."

They ate in silence for a minute.

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Amira finally asked.

Lissa's smile vanished. "Absolutely."

**

That evening, Amira took a walk through the gardens.

It was peaceful, almost disarming. The scent of jasmine. The crunch of gravel. The quiet.

And then-

"You walk like you don't belong here."

She turned.

Elias stood on the path behind her, hands in his pockets, watching her like a puzzle.

"Maybe I don't," she said.

"Maybe you do, and you just haven't realized it yet."

They walked in silence.

Finally, Amira asked, "Why me?"

He looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"There are hundreds of women you could've married. Why me?"

Elias was quiet for a long moment.

"Because you didn't ask for anything," he said finally. "Not money. Not status. Not even a lie."

"And that made me... what? Convenient?"

"No." He paused. "It made you dangerous."

And with that, he walked away.

Leaving her in the garden. In the dusk. With a heart that was starting to do something very stupid.

Feel.