Cursed to be with a billionaire

Episode 2

Shadows of Secrets

Janice stumbled into her tiny maid’s quarters, the door slamming shut behind her. The room was a stark contrast to Stephen’s lavish bedroom walls, a sagging cot, a single cracked mirror above a chipped sink. Her hands shook as she clutched her uniform, the memory of Stephen’s cold dismissal and the scattered money burning in her mind.

She sank onto the cot, her breath ragged, trying to piece together the fractured puzzle of last night.

What happened?

Why can’t I remember?

As she pulled on her blouse, a sharp sting on her wrist made her gasp. She yanked up her sleeve, and her heart stopped. A faint, glowing sigil swirling lines like a crescent moon entwined with thorns pulsed on her skin. It hadn’t been there yesterday.

“What the hell…” she whispered, scrubbing at it with her fingers. The mark didn’t budge, but it flared brighter when her thoughts drifted to Stephen his piercing green eyes, his voice saying,

You’re not invisible. Panic surged through her. Was this some kind of drug?

A hallucination?

Or… something worse?

She splashed cold water on her face, staring into the mirror. Her brown eyes were wide, her dark hair a tangled mess, but the sigil’s glow reflected faintly in the glass, undeniable. Her mind raced.

Did he do this to me? The thought of Stephen, his arrogance, his money, made her blood boil, but there was something else, a pull she couldn’t explain, like a thread tying her to him.

In the mansion’s grand library, Stephen paced, his polished shoes clicking on the marble floor. Towering bookshelves loomed over him, their leather-bound tomes untouched for years. He couldn’t focus. Janice’s words echoed in his head I’m not your property. No one had ever dared speak to him like that, not even Cynthia with her fiery temper.

Janice, a maid, had stood her ground, her eyes blazing with a fire that stirred something dangerous in him.He stopped, running a hand through his dark hair. The pendant in his pocket, an old family heirloom he’d always dismissed as a gaudy trinket felt warm, almost alive. He ignored it, his mind fixed on Janice. She was a nobody, a servant, yet she’d gotten under his skin. He needed to see her, to prove he was still in control. Before he could second-guess himself, he strode toward the servant wing, his heart pounding with a mix of anger and something he refused to name.

The narrow hallway to the maids’ quarters was dim, the air heavy with the scent of cleaning polish.

He knocked sharply on Janice’s door, his voice clipped. “Janice. Open the door.” Inside, Janice froze, the sigil on her wrist pulsing faintly.

She yanked her sleeve down, her pulse racing.

“What do you want?” she called, her voice sharp but unsteady.

“I’m not asking,” Stephen said, his tone low, commanding.

“Open it. Now.” Against her better judgment, she cracked the door, her eyes narrowing.

“You don’t get to order me around after this morning.”He pushed past her, filling the tiny room with his presence.

His tailored suit looked absurdly out of place against the peeling paint.

“You left the money,” he said, his voice softer now, almost curious.

“Why?” Janice crossed her arms, hiding her wrist.

“Because I’m not for sale, Stephen. Unlike you, I have some dignity.

”His jaw tightened, but his eyes flickered with something admiration, maybe, or frustration.

“You think you know me? You don’t. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Then tell me!” she snapped, stepping closer, her fear giving way to defiance.

“Tell me why I woke up in your bed. Tell me why I can’t remember. Tell me why—” She stopped, catching herself before mentioning the sigil.

She didn’t trust him, not yet.Stephen’s gaze softened, just for a moment, and he stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne, sharp and expensive.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked, his voice low, almost tender.

“You were… different last night. You weren’t just the maid. You were…” He trailed off, searching her face.

“You were you.”Her breath hitched, the air between them electric. She wanted to push him away, to scream, but his words stirred something deep, a memory just out of reach.

“Stop playing games,” she whispered, but her voice wavered, betraying the pull she felt toward him.Before he could respond, his phone buzzed again Cynthia’s name flashing. He silenced it, but the moment was broken, the tension snapping like a taut wire.

Across town, Cynthia sat in her penthouse, her manicured nails digging into the armrest of her sleek leather chair.

Her private investigator, a wiry man named Vince, leaned against her glass dining table, scrolling through his tablet.

“Your boy’s been keeping secrets,” Vince said, his voice gravelly.

“Spending a lot of time at the mansion lately. With the staff.”Cynthia’s eyes narrowed, her heart pounding with rage.

“The staff? Who?”Vince smirked, sliding the tablet toward her.

A grainy photo showed Stephen and Janice in the mansion’s garden last night, his hand brushing her arm.

“Some maid named Janice. Looks cozy.”

Cynthia’s blood ran cold, then boiled. “That little nobody?” she hissed, shoving the tablet away.

“He’s throwing me away for her?” She stood, grabbing her coat. “I’m going over there. Now.”

“Cyn, maybe think this through ” Lila started, but Cynthia was already out the door, her heels clicking with purpose.

Back at the mansion, Stephen and Janice stood frozen, inches apart, when the front door slammed open. Cynthia’s voice echoed through the foyer, sharp and venomous.

“Stephen! Where are you?”Janice’s eyes widened, and she stepped back, but Stephen grabbed her wrist unintentionally brushing the sigil.

A jolt shot through them both, the pendant in his pocket flaring with heat.

“What was that?” he muttered, but before Janice could answer, Cynthia stormed into the library.Her blonde hair was flawless, her designer dress screaming wealth, but her eyes were wild with fury.

“So this is why you’ve been ignoring me?” she spat, glaring at Janice.

“Slumming it with the help?”Janice bristled, yanking her wrist free.

“I’m not his anything,” she said, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

“Maybe you should ask him why he’s pushing you away.”Cynthia laughed, sharp and cruel.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re out of your league. Stephen, tell her. Tell her she’s nothing.”Stephen’s jaw clenched, his eyes darting between them.

“Cynthia, enough,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“This isn’t about her.”

“Then what is it about?” Cynthia screamed, stepping closer.

“You and your secrets? Your precious family legacy? Or is it her?” She jabbed a finger at Janice, who stood her ground, the sigil on her wrist burning beneath her sleeve.

The tension was suffocating, accusations hanging in the air. Before anyone could speak, Toshin appeared at the door, his expression unreadable.

“Boss, you got a call,” he said, his eyes flicking to Janice.

“Sounds urgent. Something about… an artifact.”Stephen frowned, his hand brushing the pendant in his pocket, which pulsed hotter.

“Not now, Toshin,” he snapped, but Toshin didn’t move, his gaze lingering on Janice as if he knew something.Outside, unnoticed by the trio, a shadowy figure stood in the mansion’s gardens, cloaked in darkness despite the daylight. Their eyes glowed faintly, fixed on the library window, where the sigil on Janice’s wrist flared brighter, a beacon calling to something ancient and dangerous.