Chapter 1 1

The gates loomed taller than she remembered.

Claire stood in silence, her hand tightening around the strap of her worn bag. The black iron gates of Devereux Mansion glistened faintly under the early morning sun, casting long, elegant shadows on the pebbled driveway. She had seen them a hundred times in passing, in pictures her mother had secretly shown her. But this was different. This time, she was stepping through them-not as a visitor, not as a stranger, but as part of the quiet staff.

Or at least... her mother was.

Claire was simply staying for a while.

That was the agreement. Just until school resumed. Just until she could go back to campus. That's what her mother had said when she convinced Mr. Devereux to let Claire stay in the maid's quarters over the holiday. It wasn't unusual for staff to bring family for brief visits, especially when they'd worked for the Devereux family as long as Claire's mother had.

Fifteen years. More than half of Claire's life. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder again as the gates opened with a slow, graceful creak. The driver-an older man named Gabriel greeted her politely and led her through. Claire offered a small smile and followed in silence, her eyes wide as they took in the mansion grounds.

The place looked like something straight out of a novel-perfect hedges, marble statues, a grand fountain that shimmered in the center of the roundabout driveway. Birds fluttered in the manicured trees like they belonged to the place more than people did.

Her mother was waiting near the back entrance, apron already tied, her expression equal parts nervous and relieved.

"You're here," she whispered, pulling Claire into a quick, tight hug.

"Yeah." Claire managed a smile. "It's... bigger than I thought."

"You'll get used to it," her mother said, brushing invisible dust off Claire's shoulder. "You're only here a few weeks. Just lay low, be respectful, and stay out of sight when the family's around."

Claire nodded, though something in her chest tightened at those words-*stay out of sight*. She wasn't here to cause trouble. She just needed peace. Time away from school noise, roommate drama, and the weight of trying to be the first in her family to get a degree.

Her mother led her inside through the staff entrance. The hallways smelled like fresh lemon polish and expensive wood. Every step Claire took echoed slightly, as if the mansion itself was listening.

She was shown to a small but clean room in the back wing-modest bed, a wooden desk, a window with a view of the gardener's shed. She liked it immediately.

Later that afternoon, Claire sat outside near the servant's courtyard, legs curled beneath her, sketchpad in hand. She was scribbling the outline of the fountain when a shadow passed over her.

"You're not supposed to be here."

She looked up sharply. A tall figure stood a few steps away, dressed in joggers and a fitted black tee. His dark curls were slightly damp from a run, and his brows were drawn in irritation.

Claire blinked. "Sorry?"

"You're not staff." He said it more like a challenge than a question.

Claire stood slowly. "I'm Claire. My mom-"

"-is Angela. One of the maids. I know." He cut in, eyes narrowing as if trying to measure her. "But guests don't usually hang around out here."

"I'm not a guest," she replied carefully. "Just staying for a short while. I'll keep out of the way."

He didn't respond immediately. His eyes flicked to the sketchpad, then back to her. Something unreadable passed over his face.

Then, just as quickly as he'd come, he turned. "Just don't get comfortable."

He disappeared through the side door.

Claire let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

She didn't know his name yet. But she already knew one thing:

He didn't like her.

And for reasons she didn't understand... that stung more than it should have.

Claire watched the door close behind him, the weight of his words still lingering. *Don't get comfortable.* Harsh. But not surprising. Her mother had warned her-Adrian Devereux wasn't known for his warmth. She had never spoken ill of the family, but Claire could read between the lines. The Devereuxs were wealthy, polished, and particular. Staff weren't friends. And staff children were barely acknowledged.

Still, something about the way he looked at her-guarded but curious-left her unsettled.

Back inside the maid's quarters, her mother stood, stirring something fragrant. The room smelled of peppered chicken and rosemary.

"You met someone?" her mom asked without looking up.

Claire hesitated. "Yeah. Dark curls. Bad attitude."

Angela sighed. "That's Adrian. Second son. He's... private."

Claire dropped onto a nearby stool. "He told me not to get comfortable."

Her mother turned. "Then don't." She softened. "This house isn't made for people like us to be comfortable, Claire. Just keep your head down, study when you can, and let me handle the rest."

Claire nodded. She didn't want to cause problems. But she wasn't used to being invisible, either.

That evening, the air shifted. The mansion grew quiet. Claire sat by her small window, watching luxury swirl around her like a world she didn't belong to. A sleek black car pulled up to the front steps. Two suited staff opened the doors. She could barely make out the figures entering-the Devereuxs.

Angela returned later, her apron wrinkled, looking tired.

"They're home."

"All of them?" Claire asked.

"Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Devereux and Adrian. The first son-Nathan-he's abroad."

Claire chewed her lip. "What are they like?"

Her mother gave her a warning look. "Best you don't find out too closely."

Later that night, Claire couldn't sleep. The bed was fine. The room was quiet. But the air in the mansion felt... expectant. Like it was waiting for something. Or someone.

She pulled out her sketchpad and flipped to a fresh page. Her pencil danced lightly, shaping the stern angle of a jawline, the slant of dark eyes she didn't mean to remember. Adrian.

She frowned and erased it quickly.

The next morning, Claire followed her mother into the main kitchen-large, gleaming, and five times the size of any she'd ever seen. Staff moved like clockwork, no wasted motions, no chatting.