EPISODE 3
852 Words
The mansion did not look like a place where people lived in.
It looked like a place secrets were kept.
Tall gates opened quietly as the car drove in, gravel crunching under the tires like the house was clearing its throat before acknowledging me. I sat stiffly in the back seat, hands folded in my lap, telling myself to breathe normally. People who were not nervous do not remind themselves to breathe.
The chauffeur stepped out first, walked around, and opened my door.
“Welcome home, Madam.”
Madam.
I blinked at him. He said it so naturally, like he’d been calling people that his whole life. Like it wasn’t absurd to attach that word to someone who still felt like she might be asked to leave any moment.
“Thank you,” I said, then paused. “You don’t have to…”
He smiled politely. “It’s my job.”
That word again. Job. As if this wasn’t surreal for both of us.
Inside, the house smelled warm. Not rich warm. Like polished wood and something faintly floral. The kind of smell that made you want to take your shoes off, even though you definitely shouldn’t.
A woman with silver-streaked hair approached almost immediately. She didn’t rush. Didn’t stare. Just looked at me with soft, curious eyes.
“You must be Brenda,” she said gently. “I’m Ms. Margaret, the head housekeeper.
She didn’t say Madam.
She didn’t say Mrs. Vale.
Just my name.
Before I could respond, she adjusted the collar of my coat with the familiarity of someone who had raised children and wasn’t asking permission anymore.
“You must be tired,” she continued. “Long day.”
Something in my chest shifted. I nodded, because words suddenly felt too heavy.
Ms. Margaret, who I later go to know more about had practically raised Lucien. She guided me inside as if she’d been waiting for me. As if I was expected. Wanted, even.
That should have comforted me.
Instead, it unsettled me.
Because kindness, when you’re not used to it, feels like a trick.
………………
My room was… ridiculous.
That’s the only word I had.
The bed looked like no one had ever slept in it. The curtains were already drawn halfway, letting in just enough light to soften the space. There were flowers on the table. Fresh and real
A housekeeper asked if I preferred tea or water.
Another asked if I wanted a bath drawn now or later.
A lady in a housekeeper attire quietly placed a tray of food on the table and said, “In case you’re hungry.”
No one asked who I was.
No one hinted why I was here.
No one looked at me like I didn’t belong.
I stood there, nodding and thanking people, smiling politely, while my mind scrambled to catch up.
Is this how it works?
Is this the part where I relax?
I waited for the other shoe to drop.
It didn’t.
Ms. Margaret lingered by the door. “If you need anything at all, just let us know. You don’t have to tiptoe here.”
Tiptoe.
I almost laughed.
When they finally left, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the room. At the clothes hanging neatly in the wardrobe, all my size. At the slippers placed carefully beside the bed.
Lucien hadn’t asked my size.
He hadn’t asked anything.
Which meant he hadn’t done this.
They had.
The staff. The house. The people who owed me nothing.
It was strange how that realization made my throat tighten more than his cold indifference ever could.
……………
I was halfway through a glass of water sparkling, because apparently that was the default here when Lucien appeared at the doorway.
No announcement. No warning.
Just presence.
He looked… composed. Like he always did. Suit jacket off, sleeves rolled neatly, as if even his casualness had rules.
“I see you’ve settled in,” he said.
Not How are you?
Not Welcome.
Just an observation.
“Yes,” I replied. “Everyone’s been very kind to me.”
He nodded once. “They’re efficient.”
Efficient.
Ms. Margaret passed behind him, and he acknowledged her with a sweet smile that vanished just as quickly. Then his gaze returned to me measured, distant, unreadable.
“There will be an event tomorrow evening,” he said. “Small and controlled. I’ll have someone brief you.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t need to worry about appearances,” he added. “The staff will handle that.”
Of course they would.
He paused, like he wanted to say something else. Or like he was deciding whether it was worth the effort.
Then, “Rest.”
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there for a moment after he left, staring at the doorway.
That was it.
No warmth from him.
Just space.
And somehow, that space felt heavier than insults.
Later, I was soaking in the bath that had been prepared without me asking, I stared at the ceiling and let my thoughts wander.
- Writer
