Chapter 2 - The West Wing Was Forbidden for a Reason
By the seventh day, I had learned three things about Dominic Vale.
First, he hated clutter.
Second, he slept almost never.
Third, he could tell when I'd entered a room without looking up.
The east wing became my regular assignment.
I dusted the library.
Polished the dark wood staircase.
Changed flowers.
Cleaned the study.
Every task seemed ordinary until I noticed how much security surrounded the place.
Two armed men stayed outside the main office.
A camera watched the hallway.
Another watched the garden.
The mansion was beautiful, but it never felt careless.
It felt guarded.
Like a fortress pretending to be a home.
Dominic appeared several times during my shifts.
He never interrupted.
He simply watched.
Sometimes he'd ask a question.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Lunch.”
“What did you have?”
“An apple.”
His eyebrows would lift.
“That's not lunch.”
“It was for me.”
The next day, I found a full meal waiting beside my cleaning cart.
I stared at it.
Marcus walked by.
“Don't ask.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were.”
I pointed at the tray.
“Did he order this?”
Marcus nodded.
“Tell him I don't need special treatment.”
Marcus grinned.
“You just insulted his cooking before trying it.”
“Does he cook?”
“No.”
“Then we're safe.”
Another laugh.
Then Marcus's smile disappeared.
“Eat it.”
“Why?”
“Because Dominic will ask.”
I sighed.
I ate.
It was good.
Annoyingly good.
Later that afternoon, Dominic found me in the library.
“You ate.”
I looked up from a shelf.
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“Is that all?”
“No.”
He crossed the room and handed me a small velvet box.
My heart stopped.
“What is that?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a silver hair clip.
Simple.
Elegant.
Too expensive for me.
I looked up.
“What's this for?”
“Your hair keeps falling into your face.”
“I can use a rubber band.”
“I know.”
“Then why buy this?”
“Because I wanted to.”
I couldn't answer.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then he walked away.
I touched the clip.
It was the first gift anyone had given me in years that didn't come with a condition.
Or at least, I thought it didn't.
Three days later, I entered the west wing by accident.
I had been told not to.
But there was a burst pipe.
Water was spreading beneath a door.
I grabbed towels and opened it.
The room beyond was nearly empty.
A grand piano.
Tall windows.
A fireplace.
And a portrait.
A woman.
Young.
Beautiful.
She had Dominic's eyes.
I stepped closer.
Before I could read the inscription, a voice stopped me.
“What are you doing?”
I turned.
Dominic stood behind me.
His face had changed.
The warmth I'd grown used to disappeared.
He looked cold.
I stepped back.
“There's a leak.”
“That doesn't answer me.”
“I came to stop the water.”
He looked toward the pipe.
Then back at me.
“You were told not to enter this wing.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because the pipe was flooding.”
His jaw tightened.
I expected anger.
Instead, something more painful crossed his face.
“Leave.”
I did.
The rest of the day, I didn't see him.
That night, while folding towels, I found Marcus.
“What's in the west wing?”
He stared at me.
“You went in.”
“There was a leak.”
He lowered his voice.
“His sister.”
I frowned.
“What happened?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Don't ask.”
“Why?”
“Because Dominic doesn't talk about her.”
I remembered the portrait.
“She died?”
Marcus looked away.
“She was murdered.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Who did it?”
“That's the problem.”
“What problem?”
“They never found out.”
The next morning, Dominic was waiting in the kitchen.
“I owe you an apology.”
I stopped.
“For yesterday.”
I didn't know what to say.
“I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.”
“It's okay.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“It wasn't.”
I nodded.
After a moment, he said, “Her name was Elena.”
I knew he meant the woman in the portrait.
“My sister.”
“She looked kind.”
“She was.”
“I'm sorry.”
“She trusted the wrong person.”
His voice was quiet.
“I don't trust easily anymore.”
Something in me tightened.
“I understand.”
He looked at me.
“Do you?”
I swallowed.
“My mother trusted someone.”
“Who?”
“My stepfather.”
His eyes changed.
I had never told anyone that before.
Maybe I didn't mean to tell him.
But once the words started, they wouldn't stop.
“He took all her money. Then when she tried to leave, he became violent. She spent years pretending everything was fine.”
Dominic listened.
“He hurt her?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I was fifteen.”
His hands curled into fists.
But he didn't interrupt.
“My mother finally escaped him. We moved. She worked two jobs. I worked after school.”
“She raised you alone.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“That's why you sing.”
I smiled sadly.
“She liked music.”
Silence.
Then Dominic said, “I’m sorry.”
This time, I believed him differently.
Something softened between us.
Later, I returned to the east wing and found an envelope on my cart.
Inside was a formal letter.
My housekeeping contract had been extended.
With a raise.
A large one.
At the bottom, a handwritten note said:
You don't have to earn your right to stay here.
I stared at the words.
I hadn't realized until that moment how badly I needed to hear them.
But while I was reading, a glass shattered somewhere down the hall.
I jumped.
Marcus appeared instantly.
“Emma, get downstairs.”
“What happened?”
“Now.”
He didn't explain.
Then Dominic stepped from his office.
His expression was pure ice.
A security guard whispered something to him.
Dominic's gaze moved toward me.
“Lock the doors.”
The mansion suddenly transformed.
Every door closed.
Every light changed.
Every guard moved.
The house I'd thought was strange now felt like a fortress under siege.
Dominic walked toward me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Stay with Marcus.”
“But—”
“Emma.”
I stopped.
“Please.”
That word scared me more than an order would have.
May you like
Because Dominic Vale never asked for anything.
And when he did, I knew something terrible had happened.
