Beneath His Vows

A house Without Anchor

Selene’s POV

Selene went to her room feeling a little excited, heart racing. Why? Because Damien… had said something kind. Not exactly, but close enough. He hadn’t said, “You’re a good girl,” but “You’re holding well” was enough to make her exaggerate her happiness—maybe a little, or a lot.

Anyway, tonight she would sleep well. And maybe tomorrow, if bossy Clara could just… sleep and never wake up. No, that sounded terrible. She meant Clara should at least enjoy a long, uninterrupted sleep.

Selene sighed and whispered to herself, “Good night, Jamie… oh, I forgot to call them. Maybe tomorrow.”...

.

Selene’s POV

The morning was a bit sunny, and Selene found herself anticipating what the day might bring. The light spilled across the floors, making the mansion feel… almost hopeful. She walked through the quiet halls, expecting to see Rosa somewhere—but no.

Maybe she went for supplies, Selene thought, trying to reassure herself. She waited, tidying a few things and checking the rooms, hoping Rosa would appear. But the day stretched on, the sun climbing higher, and still there was no sign of her.

By afternoon, the cheerful anticipation had faded into a dull weight. That’s when they broke the news.

“Elise, please… have you seen Rosa? We’re supposed to clean the study,” Selene asked again, trying to keep her voice steady.

Elise looked apologetic. “Sorry, my love… she got transferred this afternoon.”

Selene’s heart sank. No Rosa. She had been managing the tasks with her guidance, and now—alone—everything felt heavier.

Elise tried to reassure her. “We’ll find another person to help.”

Selene whispered back, “But she isn’t Rosa… what’s the joy?” One bad omen, she thought gloomily.

She didn’t see Damien that day, either. Not that she was destined to, of course. He was always elusive in the house; yesterday’s rooftop encounter had been a coincidence… or destiny? Selene smiled at her own silliness.

By late afternoon, she finally finished her work, aching from head to toe. Thank God I didn’t see Clara, she muttered, eager for some rest.

She paused by the window, letting herself breathe for a moment. The sunlight fell soft across the marble floor, and for a second, the house felt almost gentle instead of suffocating. Almost like it could be hers… if only she could survive Clara’s sharp tongue for a little longer.

Elise walked in with a folder tucked under her arm. “Selene, ma’am, this is Priscilla. She’s filling in for Rosa. Can you show her around? I have documents to give Damien in the office.”

Selene blinked. Another person. She tried to mask her anxiety behind a polite smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced at Priscilla—a girl younger than her, nervous but eager. Not Rosa. Not Rosa. Never Rosa. Selene’s stomach sank, realizing she’d have to train someone new, manage more tasks, and still keep Clara from noticing her every move.

And Clara… Selene could already feel the sharp gaze tracking her from across the hallway. She shivered, imagining what little comments or critiques were already forming in that perfectly manicured mind.

Selene muttered under her breath, “Just a few more days. I can do this. I have to.”

She picked up her cleaning supplies and straightened her back, forcing herself to feel capable. It wasn’t Rosa, it wasn’t perfect, but she would make it work. She owed herself that much.

Then her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Damien. The cold, distant man who had somehow, with one simple sentence, left her heart fluttering. Holding well, he had said. Holding well… as if he knew how much she had been trying, and still didn’t even look at her properly.

Selene shook her head. Stop it. Focus. Priscilla needs me. Clara is waiting. And Damien… well, he’ll be around eventually. Or not.

She took a deep breath. The mansion was quiet, the sunlight falling soft across the floors. For the first time that afternoon, Selene felt… ready. Ready to face another round of Clara’s sharp comments, the awkwardness of training someone new, and yes… even the enigma that was Damien Veylor.

Selene led Priscilla through the mansion, pointing out rooms and little details that Rosa would have casually mentioned. Her voice was steady, but her mind kept wandering.

And then she saw him. Damien.

Her heart skipped. She wanted to greet him, maybe a soft hello, a nod, something to acknowledge the rooftop moment from yesterday. But he just walked past her, eyes forward, as if they had never shared that fleeting, heart-stopping conversation.

Selene’s chest tightened. Was I making it a big deal in my head? she wondered. Maybe he had said “You’re holding well” just to push her, to make her work harder, to turn her into some… manic little worker who never slowed down. And she had fallen for it.

Her cheeks burned at the thought. Why am I thinking like this? she scolded herself silently. He’s just Damien Veylor. That’s all.

Priscilla, however, didn’t seem to share Selene’s self-control. She whispered, almost breathless, “Wow… he’s so… beautiful.”

Selene blinked. “Shh! Not so loud,” she hissed, cheeks burning hotter. “Focus on the tour, please.”

Priscilla leaned closer, eyes still on Damien as he disappeared around the corner. “I mean… look at him. He’s like… unreal. How can someone be that… perfect?”

Selene bit the inside of her cheek, a mix of exasperation and embarrassment flooding her. Perfect, my foot. He’s distant, cold… probably doesn’t even notice us half the time. And yet…

She shook her head and refocused on Priscilla. “Yes, he’s… very meticulous,” she said carefully, ignoring the flutter in her own chest.

Still, even as she guided Priscilla through the grand hallways, the echo of Damien’s presence lingered. Holding well.

Was it a compliment, or a challenge? Either way… she had to keep proving herself.

Selene led Priscilla through the mansion, pointing out rooms and little details that Rosa would have casually mentioned. Her voice was steady, but her mind kept wandering.

And then she saw him. Damien.

Her heart skipped. She wanted to greet him, maybe a soft hello, a nod, something to acknowledge the rooftop moment from yesterday. But he just walked past her, eyes forward, as if they had never shared that fleeting, heart-stopping conversation.

Selene’s chest tightened. Was I making it a big deal in my head? she wondered. Maybe he had said “You’re holding well” just to push her, to make her work harder, to turn her into some… manic little worker who never slowed down. And she had fallen for it.

Her cheeks burned at the thought. Why am I thinking like this? she scolded herself silently. He’s just Damien Veylor. That’s all.

Priscilla, however, didn’t seem to share Selene’s self-control. She whispered, almost breathless, “Wow… he’s so… beautiful.”

Selene blinked. “Shh! Not so loud,” she hissed, cheeks burning hotter. “Focus on the tour, please.”

Priscilla leaned closer, eyes still on Damien as he disappeared around the corner. “I mean… look at him. He’s like… unreal. How can someone be that… perfect?”

Selene bit the inside of her cheek, a mix of exasperation and embarrassment flooding her. Perfect, my foot. He’s distant, cold… probably doesn’t even notice us half the time. And yet…

She shook her head and refocused on Priscilla. “Yes, he’s… very meticulous,” she said carefully, ignoring the flutter in her own chest.

Still, even as she guided Priscilla through the grand hallways, the echo of Damien’s presence lingered. Holding well.

Was it a compliment, or a challenge? Either way… she had to keep proving herself.