CHAPTER TWO: NEW RULES
1340 Words
The car ride was… weird.
Not uncomfortable exactly, but not peaceful either. The silence between Willow and Kian wasn’t easy. It sat heavy in the car, thick like fog, like something unspoken was always hanging just above them, waiting to crash.
Willow kept her hands wrapped around Lily, who was bouncing on her lap like she didn’t just witness her sister get kicked out of their apartment or get swept into a deal with a man who looked like he could buy a small country.
“Papa,” Lily said for maybe the third time. “Does this car fly?”
Willow groaned softly, burying her face in her hoodie. “Lily, he’s not your papa.”
“But he looks like one. Like the ones on TV. All serious and angry but he gives candy in the end.”
Kian didn’t say a word. Just kept driving, both hands on the steering wheel, his jaw tight, eyes never leaving the road.
“He’s like Batman, but with more eyebrows,” Lily whispered like she was sharing a secret.
Willow snorted before she could stop herself.
Kian’s mouth twitched. Barely. But it was there.
Lily, clearly enjoying herself, kept going. “Is this a magic car? Can it turn into a boat?”
“No, baby,” Willow whispered. “This is a billionaire’s car. It just runs on other people’s broken dreams.”
Kian glanced at her through the rearview. Their eyes met for half a second. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and that scared her. His silence was a blanket. Heavy. Warm. Dangerous.
But it wasn’t just the silence. It was how calm he was. Like he’d done this before. Like driving a random desperate girl and her kid sister to his mansion was just Tuesday night.
⸻
The gates to the mansion opened like something out of a movie.
Big. Black. Shiny. The kind of gates you’d see in a thriller, right before someone got kidnapped or kissed or killed. Willow held Lily closer.
As the SUV rolled into the driveway, the mansion itself came into view—and for a moment, she forgot how cold her fingers were.
It was huge.
Not just big. Massive. Like something out of a fairytale with less glitter and more money. There were stone pillars, glass windows the size of billboards, lights built into the ground, fountains shaped like lions—who the hell needed fountains shaped like lions?
Lily’s eyes went wide. “Wowww… are we in a princess movie?”
“Feels more like a haunted castle,” Willow muttered.
The car stopped. Kian stepped out first, moving like a shadow. He opened the door for them without a word.
Willow hesitated.
This was real. This wasn’t a dream. She had said yes. She had no clue what she had said yes to—but this was it.
“C’mon,” he said.
⸻
The inside of the house was warmer but colder at the same time.
Marble floors, gold railings, art she didn’t understand. Chandeliers bigger than her whole old apartment. And silence. Thick, loaded silence.
Maids moved like ghosts. Silent. Perfect posture. Black uniforms, heads slightly bowed when Kian passed by.
And all of them looked at her.
Willow knew what she looked like. Hoodie still damp, shoes muddy, hair tied up in a bun she hadn’t fixed since yesterday. And right in the middle of this pristine palace, she felt like an eyesore.
Lily ran ahead, laughing and spinning under the chandeliers. Willow went after her, but one of the maids gently scooped the child into her arms with a small nod and carried her off—like it was already planned.
“Wait—” Willow started.
“She’ll be taken care of,” Kian said, already walking.
Her stomach turned. But Lily waved from the top of the stairs, smiling. “They have cookies here!”
Willow blinked. Cookies. The girl had sold her soul for sugar.
⸻
“This is Mae,” Kian said, pausing in one of the endless marble hallways.
Mae stepped forward. Tall, maybe late forties, with graying hair tied in a neat bun and sharp eyes that looked like they missed nothing. But there was warmth behind them.
“Welcome,” Mae said gently. “I’m the head maid here. You can ask me anything. Don’t be shy.”
Willow opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a soft voice piped up behind her.
“Oh my God… she’s so beautiful.”
Willow turned. A younger maid, maybe Willow’s age, was staring wide-eyed.
“She is,” another one whispered, nose scrunched. “But… like, dirty-beautiful. Like a wild cat. Kind of scary. Kinda hot.”
Willow’s face flushed. She wanted to disappear.
Mae turned slowly. Her voice dropped like a blade. “Shut up.”
Silence.
The girls vanished like smoke, scurrying down the hall.
Mae turned back to Willow and sighed. “Ignore them. They talk too much.”
Willow laughed nervously, still trying to process the words dirty-beautiful. Was that a compliment?
⸻
The guest wing—correction, her new room—was bigger than her entire childhood apartment. King-size bed, fireplace, a vanity that looked older than the U.S. Constitution, and a balcony that opened into a view of the gardens below.
Willow stood in the middle of it all, frozen.
Mae walked in behind her and handed her a towel. “You should shower. There’s a closet full of clothes. We guessed your size.”
“You guessed right?” Willow raised an eyebrow.
Mae smiled. “Mr. Thorne is very… detailed.”
Willow didn’t know how to feel about that.
“I’ll be right down the hall,” Mae added. “Just knock.”
Then she was gone.
⸻
The shower was heaven.
Hot water. Real shampoo. Soft towels. It felt like she was washing off years, not just dirt.
When she stepped out, she opened the closet and nearly fainted.
Everything was… stunning. Designer. Silk, satin, velvet. Dresses that looked like they belonged on red carpets. There were even matching shoes.
She picked something simple. A navy blue dress that hugged her body like it was made just for her, with sleeves that draped off her shoulders. She didn’t even recognize herself in the mirror.
⸻
Dinner was weird.
Kian didn’t sit at the long table. He ate on a smaller one by the window, and she joined him because Mae said to. The food was amazing—stuff she couldn’t pronounce—but her throat was too tight to enjoy it.
Kian was quiet. Always watching. Always thinking. Like he was two steps ahead of her in a game she didn’t know she was playing.
“Why me?” she finally asked.
He looked up.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply. “And you were desperate.”
That should’ve stung. But it didn’t. It was true. And weirdly, she appreciated that he didn’t lie.
⸻
Later that night, she lay in bed with Lily curled beside her. The little girl was already half-asleep, mumbling something about flying bathtubs and sugar castles.
Willow stared at the ceiling.
Everything had changed in 24 hours.
She didn’t know what kind of man Kian really was. She didn’t know what rules she’d be expected to follow. But one thing was clear:
This wasn’t a fairytale.
It was a contract.
And she had no idea what the fine print said
.
Willow wandered to the tall window, parting the curtains just enough to peek out. The city looked so far away from here, like a dream she’d fallen out of. Behind her, the room stayed quiet, but her mind wouldn’t. Somewhere in the mansion, Lily was probably tucked into a bed with more blankets than they’d ever owned. That thought made her chest ache—not with sadness, but something messier. Relief. Fear. Guilt. Like she’d traded something she couldn’t name for a slice of peace that might not last.
- Writer
