The House Of Silence
This was the ending of suffering and the beginning of something new.
Comfy living, maybe. Or so she hoped.
Selene stood at the iron gates of the Veylor estate. The gateman studied her carefully, asking a few questions before finally swinging the gates open. The car eased forward, and as she looked in, the outside world faded away—replaced by trimmed hedges, marble stone, and a mansion that rose slowly into view. Tall. Pristine. Untouchably quiet.
“Miss Hart? I guess you’re Miss Hart, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Selene replied softly.
“Okay. I’m Elise, the house manager. This way—you’ll find the staff quarters down the east wing.”
Selene nodded, her voice caught in her throat. The halls swallowed her as she followed Elise: polished floors, oil paintings staring down, chandeliers catching the afternoon light. Everything was grand, yet cold, as though no one truly lived here.
Until she saw him.
Damian Veylor.
He stood at the end of the corridor, speaking lowly into his phone. Even from a distance, his presence was sharp—the cut of his suit, the weight in his shoulders, the calm authority in his voice. When his eyes lifted—dark, unreadable—they landed on Selene for the briefest moment.
Something inside her stilled.
Elise’s voice broke the silence. “Mr. Veylor, this is the new househelp.”
Damian slipped his phone into his pocket. His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long before he gave a small nod. “Keep to your duties. The house runs on order.”
What was she expecting—a cold champagne welcome? She was just the househelp.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured.
And just like that, he walked past her, leaving behind the faint trace of his cologne and a weight in the air she couldn’t explain.
Later, in her small quarters, Selene unpacked her bags and tried to memorize the rules Mrs. Elise had handed her. There were so many—it was overwhelming.
She suddenly remembered she hadn’t called her mother.
Before I forget… I haven’t even introduced myself.
My name is Selene Hart. I’m a Canadian girl, twenty years old, blue-eyed and poor but hopeful. I live with my mom and my younger brother, Jamie. I dropped out of school—because, according to my mom, furthering a seamstress career was a luxury we couldn’t afford. But Jamie will get that chance. That’s why I agreed to come to California, far from home. For him. For my family.
She dialed her mother.
“Hey, Mum. I’m here already.”
“Oh, my baby. How is it? Are you comfortable? If you’re not, please come back—we’ll find another way.”
Selene smiled. “I’m comfy. And I’m not coming back until I do what I want for you and Jamie. Don’t worry about me. Take care of him.”
They talked until her mother grew sleepy. When she hung up, the room felt too quiet. Luckily, there was a small window opening toward the sky.
Selene leaned back and stared at the stars.
She closed her eyes, whispered a wish, and drifted into dreamland—where, perhaps, her prince with a white horse was waiting.
