The Rules Of His House
842 Words
The contract was simple.
At least, that was what Clara thought when she first read it.
The conditions were clear.
She would work as a live-in maid at Anthony Kingsley's private villa.
Her responsibilities included maintaining the house, preparing simple meals when requested, assisting with household arrangements, and following the rules of the villa.
The payment was more than she expected.
Enough to cover her mother's hospital bills.
Enough to give Noah some breathing room.
Enough to make her feel like she could finally breathe again.
But there was one thing written clearly at the bottom.
Personal boundaries must be respected at all times.
Clara understood.
Anthony Kingsley was not looking for a friend.
He was looking for an employee.
And she was there because she needed the job.
Nothing more.
The next morning, Clara arrived at the villa carrying only a small suitcase.
Everything she owned fit inside.
A few clothes.
Some personal items.
A photograph of her family.
That was all.
Mrs. Eleanor Brooks welcomed her at the entrance.
"I'm glad you came."
Clara smiled.
"Thank you for helping me."
Mrs. Brooks shook her head.
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to survive working for Anthony."
Clara laughed softly.
"Is he really that difficult?"
Mrs. Brooks gave her a knowing look.
"Yes."
"How difficult?"
"He can make a room feel cold without saying a word."
Clara looked toward the villa.
"I'll try my best."
"I know you will."
Mrs. Brooks gave Clara a tour of the villa.
The kitchen.
The living area.
The guest rooms.
The staff area.
Finally, they reached the second floor.
"This hallway leads to Mr. Kingsley's private office and bedroom."
Clara immediately nodded.
"I won't enter without permission."
"Good."
Mrs. Brooks smiled.
"You're learning quickly."
They continued walking.
"This is your room."
Clara stopped.
Her eyes widened.
The room was small compared to the rest of the villa, but to her, it felt luxurious.
A comfortable bed.
A clean bathroom.
A window overlooking the garden.
She had never had a room like this before.
"It's beautiful."
Mrs. Brooks smiled.
"You deserve comfort too, Clara."
Those words touched her.
Because for a long time, Clara had forgotten what it felt like to think about herself.
That evening, Clara prepared dinner.
She had learned from Mrs. Brooks that Anthony usually returned home late.
He preferred simple meals and disliked unnecessary attention.
When the clock reached nine, the front door opened.
Anthony walked inside.
His suit was perfectly pressed.
His expression was unreadable.
He looked tired.
But he didn't show it.
Clara immediately stepped aside.
"Welcome home, Mr. Kingsley."
Anthony stopped.
His eyes moved toward her.
For a moment, he seemed surprised.
Then he remembered.
The new maid.
"You're here."
"Yes, sir."
"You started today."
"Yes."
He nodded once.
"Good."
That was all.
He walked past her.
No greeting.
No conversation.
No unnecessary words.
Clara watched him disappear upstairs.
She quietly sighed.
Mrs. Brooks had been right.
He really was cold.
Later that night, Anthony sat alone in his office.
The city lights reflected against the glass windows.
A folder sat on his desk.
Clara Evans.
He didn't know why he had kept it.
Normally, he wouldn't care about the personal history of his employees.
People came and went.
That was how life worked.
But something about her bothered him.
Not in a negative way.
She had walked into his office expecting rejection.
Yet she hadn't begged.
She hadn't exaggerated her problems.
She simply told the truth.
That was unusual.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in."
George Wilson entered.
"Sir."
"What is it?"
"The new maid has finished arranging the kitchen and staff area."
Anthony nodded.
"Good."
George hesitated.
"She also prepared dinner."
"I didn't ask her to."
"No."
George smiled slightly.
"But she noticed you hadn't eaten."
Anthony looked at him.
"I don't need someone monitoring my meals."
"She wasn't monitoring."
George paused.
"She was concerned."
Anthony said nothing.
Concern was something he had stopped expecting from people.
Especially strangers.
The next morning, Clara woke up early.
She prepared breakfast and arranged everything before Anthony came downstairs.
When he entered the dining room, he stopped.
The table was different.
Not extravagant.
Not excessive.
Just a simple, warm breakfast.
Anthony looked at Clara.
"You prepared this?"
"Yes, Mr. Kingsley."
"I didn't request it."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Clara hesitated.
"Because you didn't eat dinner yesterday."
Anthony's expression changed slightly.
"You noticed?"
"Yes."
A strange silence filled the room.
Most people avoided looking at him.
This woman noticed things.
Small things.
Things others ignored.
Anthony picked up his coffee.
"It's acceptable."
Clara blinked.
Coming from him, it almost sounded like a compliment.
"Thank you."
Anthony sat down.
As he ate, Clara quietly left the room.
But for some reason...
Anthony found himself watching the doorway after she disappeared.
A reaction he didn't understand.
A feeling he refused to name.
Clara Evans had entered his home as a maid.
But without realizing it...
She had already begun changing the silence Anthony had spent years protecting.
End of Chapter 5
- Writer
