The Fallen Titan's Caregiver

Zara's POV The agency warned me three times. Not once. Not as a formality. Three separate people pulled me aside between the briefing room and the car, and each one of them had the same look — the particular expression of someone handing you a lit match and hoping you knew what you were doing. "He's difficult," the first one said. "He's unpredictable," said the second. The third one just looked at me and said, "Twenty-seven, honey," and walked away. Twenty-seven caretakers in fourteen weeks. I did the math in the car on the way up the mountain and let it settle in my stomach where it belonged. I wasn't here because I was brave. I wasn't here because I was the best Meridian Care Group had. I was here because I was the only one left who said yes, and I said yes because I was running out of places to disappear to, and this house in the Blue Ridge Mountains was about as disappeared as a person could get. The estate appeared through the trees like something from a dream that hadn't decided yet if it was good or bad. Iron gates. Stone walls. Ivy climbing everything like the house was slowly being reclaimed by the mountain. Long gravel driveway, manicured grounds gone slightly wild at the edges, the way things go when nobody's been paying attention. Beautiful. And completely, absolutely still. The gates opened on their own. The driver didn't comment. I didn't either. A man in a dark suit met me at the front door before I knocked. Estate manager. Marcus Webb, according to the file. He looked me over with the practiced neutrality of someone who had done this twenty-seven times before and had stopped expecting any of them to last. "Miss Cole." "That's me." "I'll walk you through the house rules." He stepped aside. I walked into a foyer that was all cold marble and high ceilings and the specific kind of quiet that collects in places where people have stopped speaking to each other. "Rule one — you do not enter his private rooms without being called. Rule two — his condition is not discussed outside these walls under any circumstances. Rule three—" "I've signed the NDA," I said. He kept going like I hadn't spoken. "Rule three — you do not push him. You do not argue with him. You give him what he needs, you stay in your lane, and you do not make his situation harder than it already is." "What if he makes mine harder?" Marcus stopped walking. Turned to look at me fully for the first time. "Miss Cole," he said carefully. "This is not a joke. Whatever wit you may have walked in with, I suggest you leave it at the door. Mr. Calloway is not a man you joke or play games with. The twenty-seven people before you weren't fragile. They weren't inexperienced. He wore them down in ways that are difficult to describe until you've experienced it." He held my gaze. "I'm not telling you this to scare you. I'm telling you so you understand that whatever you think you're walking into—" He paused. "You're not." I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Take me to him," I said. --- Marcus knocked on the door at the east end of the hallway once. "Go away. I don't want another babysitter." I heard a deep voice from inside, and contrary to how thick his voice was, he sounded exhausted. "You know it's routine, Reid. I can’t leave until you've been properly introduced to your caregiver," Marcus responded, and I heard a scoff through the door, but yet, the door remained shut. Marcus knocked again. "Reid, don’t make me call Alisha." He threatened, and I heard a groan and then some shuffling before the door pulled open to reveal the man of the hour. Reid Calloway. Standing six feet tall, his dark curls long and reaching his eyebrows, his blue eyes staring daggers into my soul as he stared down at me, a look of disgust in his eyes, but I would be lying if I said there wasn’t something else... pain, exhaustion. The man was tired. And I couldn’t be sure, but I guessed it was because of the crutch attached to his side, the way he gripped it like it was his lifeline and yet his poison... he hated that thing. "Reid Calloway," he said grimly, staring down at me and then turning towards Marcus. "Happy?" he asked, his voice void of amusement. "Reid, this is Zara Cole. She'll be your caregiver. Her contract states that she'll be here for six months, but it will be open for negotiation when it's up." Marcus introduced me, and Reid looked at him, completely bored. Maybe it was the routine of all of it. "Six months, sure," he said and then turned to me again. He gave me a once-over, and I took that as a cue to introduce myself, but before I could utter a word, he moved back in and slammed the door shut in our faces. "Welcome to the Blue Ridge Mansion," Marcus said sarcastically. **** I was up before five a.m. Marcus had given me the rundown of the house, the workers' schedule, when food was served, how things worked, and the schedule Reid was supposed to follow. A schedule that included breakfast at six fifteen, and yet I had stood outside his door, knocking for more than twenty minutes. "I know you can hear me," I muttered under my breath and made the quick decision that I was done playing the polite caregiver. The man had known me for all of five minutes and was hell-bent on making my job difficult. Well, two could play that game. I set down the tray of food that was almost cold and dug into my pocket for the spare key to Mr. Calloway's room. The one I was given in case of emergencies. I put it in the lock and unlocked the door, pushing it wide open, then picked up the tray and walked in. "Are you out of your mind?!" Mr. Calloway yelled at me as I walked in. He was still in bed, but he was sitting up, his sheets curled over him as he looked at me like he was moments away from snapping my neck. His jaw tightened as he stared at me. I ignored him. Instead, I set the tray down and moved towards the curtains, pulling them open and letting the sunlight into the very dark room. I heard him hiss in response. "Get out of my room right now! You have no right to be in here! I can have you fired—" "Not according to my contract," I snapped at him before I could stop myself. He looked almost as taken aback as I was at my response. "What did you just say?" he questioned, but it sounded more like bait, one that would determine my fate. I said nothing in response. I took in a deep breath instead. I had taken this job for a fresh start, an escape... something that would liberate me from... But I realised that I may have made a terrible decision, thinking I would find peace taking care of a man who acted like the universe had robbed him. Maybe the universe did. Reid Calloway, former starting quarterback for a three-time NFL championship team. He was the star, face of everything, team captain, everyone loved him, and yet... Yet, after the injury, he was abandoned, dropped by sponsors and teammates the moment his leg couldn’t move like it should. I was robbed too. I was stripped of everything I worked hard for, but I didn’t take it out on everyone, so I gave him no excuse. He didn't deserve one, not when he acted like that. So instead, I took in a deep breath and looked him dead in the eye and spoke like the look in his eyes didn’t scare me and send shivers down my spine. "You have PT at 12 p.m. sharp today, followed by a consultation with your doctor at 3 p.m. You’ll have your lunch in between. I suggest you eat your breakfast, although it might be a little cold from the twenty-minute wait, but maybe that’s how you prefer your food. I wouldn’t know." Before he could respond, I walked out of the room, closing the door behind me and taking my key with me. Twenty-seven previous caregivers. But I wasn’t about to be twenty-eight because my reasons for being there definitely outweighed Reid Calloway's rudeness. My phone buzzed in my pocket as I walked back to my room, and I flinched without even checking it because I knew exactly what it was. Another threat.