Chapter Seven
640 Words
Amelia had worked in houses before.
Some were chaotic.
Some were lonely.
Some felt more like hotels than homes.
But Blackwood Estate was different.
It felt…
Silent.
Almost unnaturally silent.
There was no television playing in the background.
No music.
No laughter.
No family photographs lining the walls.
No traces of birthdays.
No memories hanging on display.
Just expensive paintings.
Marble floors.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
And enough empty space to remind Amelia that money couldn’t always buy warmth.
Margaret led her upstairs.
“Your room is on the third floor.”
Amelia expected a small maid’s quarter.
Instead, she walked into a room larger than the apartment she shared with Lucas.
A queen-sized bed.
A private bathroom.
Built-in shelves.
A small desk.
Fresh flowers.
A coffee maker.
She stared.
“This is for me?”
Margaret smiled.
“Mr. Blackwood believes people work better when they’re comfortable.”
Amelia chuckled.
“He has an interesting way of showing kindness.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“He doesn’t know how to show kindness.”
“He only knows how to provide solutions.”
Amelia smiled.
That sounded strangely familiar.
Margaret handed her a booklet.
Amelia looked down.
BLACKWOOD ESTATE STAFF HANDBOOK
She opened it.
Rule One:
Respect everyone’s privacy.
Rule Two:
Maintain confidentiality.
Rule Three:
No unauthorized guests.
Rule Four:
Do not enter Mr. Blackwood’s office after 9 p.m.
Rule Five:
Do not disturb Mr. Blackwood while he is working.
Rule Six:
Never wake Mr. Blackwood.
Amelia looked up.
“Never?”
Margaret nodded.
“Never.”
“What if there’s a fire?”
Margaret paused.
“I’ll allow fire.”
Amelia laughed.
“So he’s difficult.”
Margaret smirked.
“He’s impossible.”
“Breakfast?”
“Black coffee.”
“Lunch?”
“Usually forgotten.”
“Dinner?”
“Delivered to his office.”
“Sleep?”
“Optional.”
Amelia frowned.
“That sounds unhealthy.”
“It is.”
“Why doesn’t anyone say anything?”
Margaret sighed.
“We have.”
“He doesn’t listen.”
“He built Blackwood Technologies from a dorm room.”
“He believes resting is wasting time.”
“He’s brilliant.”
“But brilliance often comes with loneliness.”
Amelia nodded thoughtfully.
She understood obsession.
She used to code until sunrise.
Sometimes she still did.
Later that evening, she unpacked her few belongings.
Three sweaters.
Two pairs of jeans.
A framed photo of her parents.
A photo of Lucas at age twelve holding a robot made from recycled soda cans.
And her laptop.
The most valuable thing she owned.
She gently placed it inside the desk drawer.
Hidden.
Protected.
Safe.
Her dream lived inside that machine.
Every line of code.
Every unfinished feature.
Every impossible hope.
TaskFlow.
The app she had spent years building.
The app that was supposed to change her life.
The app no one knew existed.
Dinner passed quietly.
Margaret retired to her room.
The other staff members clocked out.
By eleven o’clock—
Blackwood Estate slept.
Almost.
Amelia stepped out of her room carrying her laptop.
Barefoot.
Careful.
Quiet.
She found a cozy corner in the library.
Moonlight spilled through the windows.
The city glittered beyond the glass.
Perfect.
She opened her laptop.
Logged in.
And smiled.
TaskFlow welcomed her.
She had missed this.
Not cleaning.
Not surviving.
Building.
Creating.
Dreaming.
She updated customer reminders.
Fixed bugs.
Adjusted the dashboard.
Added a new invoice feature.
Hours passed unnoticed.
Until—
A voice broke the silence.
“Interesting.”
Amelia froze.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
She looked up.
Ethan Blackwood stood at the entrance.
Gray sweatpants.
Black t-shirt.
Messy hair.
Coffee mug in hand.
Watching her.
Watching her screen.
Watching her code.
And for the first time—
Amelia felt genuine panic.
Because the billionaire had just caught her doing something no maid should know how to do.
- Writer
