Chapter 1
961 Words
LORETTA
I took a quick shower and packed some food for Max. Thankfully, there was a small basket to carry everything, including my aunt’s ointments.
What I thought would be a short trip lasted longer than I expected. I got lost four times and somehow found myself in the busiest part of the city.
Some people were nice enough to point me in the right direction or give me instructions.
I looked from the paper to the bold address written on the most beautiful house I had ever seen.
The gate was designed in a way that gave a clear view of the house.
All the other houses around looked expensive too. This was definitely not a place for poor people.
Four floors. Two cars in the compound. Neatly trimmed flower bushes. Everything looked pristine and completely quiet.
How did my aunt get access to such people of class? If they're so rich, why buy ointments from her?
I summoned the courage and banged on the gate.
When I didn’t get a reply, I spotted the doorbell.
Stupid girl.
“Why are you so stupid, Loretta?” I muttered, pressing the bell.
“Who are you?” a man’s voice asked, though I couldn’t see anyone.
Telecom.
I searched for it and found it.
“M-my name is L-Loretta. I’m here to deliver some ointments sent by my aunt, Rubi,” I said into it after pressing a button.
I waited. No reply.
Then the gates rolled open.
I hesitated for a moment before finally walking in.
Unsure of where to go, I found the main door and gently knocked.
Expensive things are always the most fragile.
“Hi, Loretta, right?” A nurse smiled at me. I could tell from the way she was dressed.
“Yes. I brought the ointments.” I smiled back.
“Come in,” she gestured.
Come in?
“I’m actually in a—”
“She wants to see you,” the nurse interrupted.
She?
I reluctantly walked in and waited impatiently for the mysterious she.
The interior of the house was nothing compared to the outside.
It was flawless. Jaw-dropping.
Simply breathtaking.
This had to be the most beautiful house I had ever stepped into. Floor-to-ceiling windows sparkled like diamonds.
“Rubi sent you?” an elderly woman asked as she descended the stairs.
“Yes. She couldn’t make it.” I smiled politely.
“Oh, your hair is so beautiful,” she said, walking closer to touch it.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t be formal!” she laughed. “Call me Mrs. Davenport.”
“Okay…”
“You remind me of my best friend.” She touched my hair again. “She choked on a grape,” she added with a laugh. “I’ll show you a picture we took when we went to Paris. She had the exact same hair color.”
“No, you don’t have to. Sorry, I mean—she sounds like a wonderful person,” I replied, forcing a smile. I felt uncomfortable despite how sweet she seemed.
“I’ll quickly get it,” she insisted. “Please, sit.”
Oh, great.
The old woman climbed the stairs again.
I wasn’t a doctor, but she looked too old to be going up and down like that.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen minutes passed, and all I saw were numerous maids going about their duties.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” the nurse said apologetically as I stood up. “She had an asthmatic attack, and I had to calm her down.”
“Oh no! Is she alright? I’m so sorry. I wish her a quick recovery. Just take the ointments—”
“She said you should bring them yourself. She wants to show you the picture.”
God.
“Okay. Where?”
I didn’t want to waste more time, but I also wanted to make sure she was fine. I felt bad about the whole situation, and I didn’t want to upset her either.
So seeing her before I left wouldn’t be so bad.
I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?
“Second floor. Take a right, then the third room on your left. There’s an elevator.” She pointed and walked away.
Wait—she’s not going to take me?
How many people live in this house?
And why does an asthmatic patient stay on the third floor?
Why did she use the stairs if there was an elevator?
So many questions. I’d make a great journalist.
I hurried to the elevator and pressed the button.
“Take a right, third room on your left,” I repeated under my breath as I stepped out.
I gently knocked on the door, but there was no response.
Is she sleeping?
Slowly, I pushed the door open and peeked inside.
Something told me to run. The room didn’t look like it belonged to an old woman.
“Mrs. Davenport?” I called softly. “I’m here.”
As I stepped in, I heard the shower running.
Why would she ask me to come all the way here if she was taking a shower?
I looked around, still holding the basket.
Everything was neat, but the room lacked decoration. Just black and white.
A towel lay carelessly on the king-size bed.
What caught my attention was the only colorful thing in the room—a beautiful painting on the wall.
I moved closer for a better look.
It must be very expensive, I thought. An original.
“What are you doing here?”
A deep, hoarse voice cut through the room, making me jump.
I turned immediately—
—and froze.
A naked man stood right in front of me.
- Writer
