The tires of the sleek black car crunched over the gravel driveway, trailing behind streaks of rainwater as the vehicle approached the towering mansion. Gray clouds loomed overhead, casting a somber shadow over the grand estate. The drizzle had been steady since morning, soaking the earth and coating the world in a dull melancholy that mirrored her mood perfectly.

Alina Blake sat stiffly in the backseat, her fingers tightening around the strap of her leather satchel. It was worn, scratched, and completely out of place in such a luxurious setting—but that was the point. She wasn’t supposed to look like she belonged. She was supposed to look small, harmless, ordinary. A servant...

That was her cover.

A low buzz of nerves fluttered in her stomach, not from fear—no, she was trained for this—but from anticipation. The mission ahead was delicate, dangerous even, and more personal than she’d care to admit. But she had accepted it. She had signed the contract. And now she was here, standing at the threshold of a life she didn’t belong in, ready to play her part.

The car came to a halt before the mansion's wide stone steps. She pushed open the door, stepping out into the rain without waiting for assistance. Cold droplets soaked her long coat instantly, but she didn’t flinch. Her eyes lifted slowly, scanning the grand structre.

It was massive. Older than she'd expected, built in a style that whispered of old money and family legacies. Ivy crawled up one wing of the building, and tall, arched windows loomed like watchful eyes. It wasn’t just a house—it was a fortress. Imposing, cold, and heartless.

Just like the man who lives there.

Ethan Vance. Billionaire entrepreneur. Ruthless CEO of Vance International. A man whose name inspired awe in boardrooms and fear in anyone who dared cross him. But behind all the power and polish was a wounded man—a husband betrayed, a father guarding his heart behind steel walls.

Alina had read the file more times than she could count. She knew the facts: Ethan’s wife had cheated on him, left him for another man, and abandoned their daughter. After a bitter custody battle, he’d won full guardianship of his only child—Elora Vance, six years old. Since then, Ethan had lived a private, guarded life, keeping Elora close and the rest of the world at arm’s length.

And now Alina was stepping into that world.

She rang the doorbell.

Seconds passed. Then the door creaked open—not by a butler or a maid, as she’d expected—but by a child.

Elora stood there in soft pajamas, her wild chestnut curls slightly messy, her brown eyes wide and curious. She clutched a small stuffed unicorn to her chest.

Alina blinked in surprise. “Are you... Elora?”

The girl nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “You’re the new nanny, right? Daddy said someone was coming today.”

The girl looked her up and down, scrunching her nose. “You look different from the others.”

Alina tilted her head. “Is that good or bad?”

“I think it’s good,” Elora said seriously. “The last one smelled like old milk and told me to shut up.”

“Well, I promise not to smell like milk or say anything rude to you.” She extended her pinky. “Pinky swear?”

Elora hesitated... then hooked her tiny finger around Alina’s. “Okay. You can stay.”

Just then, footsteps echoed through the hallway—heavy, precise, and full of authority. Alina didn’t need to look to know who it was.

She turned just as Ethan Vance stepped into view.

Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a crisp black suit despite being at home—he looked exactly like the photos. But seeing him in person was something else entirely. His presence was undeniable, like walking into a room with a live wire. His face was chiseled, all sharp lines and hard angles, with a jaw clenched just tight enough to suggest he wasn’t pleased.

His storm-gray eyes landed on her.

“You must be the new help,” he said flatly.

Alina gave a respectful nod. “Yes, Mr. Vance. I’m Alina Blake. From the Horizon Agency.”

“I don’t care what agency you’re from,” he said, brushing past them. “As long as you do your job and stay out of my way.”

Elora frowned and tugged at his sleeve. “Daddy, she’s nice.”

He glanced at his daughter, and for the briefest moment, something softened in his expression—but it was gone just as quickly. “We’ll see.”

Alina kept her expression neutral. She had expected cold. She had expected distant. But what she hadn’t expected was the instant clash between them—the tension in the air that wasn’t just professional.

He turned back to her. “Her bedtime is nine. She doesn’t eat sugar after seven. No cartoons during the week. She has a tutor every morning. Follow the schedule, and we won’t have a problem.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir.’”

She blinked. “Then... Mr. Vance?”

He narrowed his eyes. “That works.”

Elora grinned and tugged Alina’s hand. “Come on. I’ll show you my room. And your room too!”.She was a little girl who was bored in that big as* mansion.

Alina followed, but she felt his eyes on her back as she walked away.

—

Elora’s room was surprisingly cozy—decorated in soft pastels, covered in fairy lights and stuffed animals. It was a little world of its own, untouched by the coldness of the mansion.

“You did all this?” Alina asked as she looked around

“Elora nodded proudly. “Daddy let me pick everything. He said I could have whatever I wanted.”

Alina knelt beside her. “He must love you a lot.”

The girl’s expression dimmed slightly. “He does. But he’s sad sometimes. And he thinks I don’t see it, but I do.”

Alina’s heart tightened. This mission wasn’t supposed to be emotional. She was here for intel, for access. But this little girl already felt too real

She brushed Elora’s hair gently. “You’re a very smart girl.”

“I know,” Elora said confidently, then beamed. “Wanna see your room now?”

“Lead the way.”

—

The servant’s quarters were smaller, tucked away near the back of the mansion. It had a private bathroom, a small desk, and a view of the garden. Sparse, but not terrible.

Alina dropped her bag on the bed, but before she could begin unpacking, there was a knock on the door.

She opened it to find a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair and a clipboard.

“I’m Greta, the housekeeper. I run things here.” She gave Alina a once-over. “We’ve had seven nannies in the past year. Let’s hope you last longer.”

Alina smiled politely. “I intend to.”

“Good. Dinner is at seven sharp. You’ll eat with the staff. The master takes his meals alone unless he’s entertaining.”

“Understood.”

Greta handed her the weekly schedule. “Follow this. Don’t ask questions. And stay out of Mr. Vance’s office.”

“Of course.”

As Greta left, Alina closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. This place was more than just a mansion—it was a cage. Everyone walked on eggshells. The air was thick with unspoken rules.

And yet...

Something inside her stirred.

She wasn’t just here for a mission. Something about this house, about this man, about his daughter—it all felt connected to something bigger. Something deeper.

She crossed to the window and stared out at the garden, the rain now only a mist. She had a role to play. A mask to wear.

But even now, she could feel the crackling tension—between her and him. The way his eyes had lingered. The way his voice had tried to keep her distant but failed.

They already disliked each other.

They already noticed each other.

And that… was dangerous.

But maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something neither of them was ready for.

---

End of Chapter 1

Alina rose before dawn.

The rain had stopped sometime in the night, leaving the air cool and still. Mist hovered low over the garden, and birds chirped lazily in the trees beyond the tall stone walls. She stood at her window, her coffee growing cold in her hand, watching the estate slowly wake up.

It was quiet here. Too quiet.

She’d been trained to appreciate silence—it helped her focus. But in this place, silence wasn’t peace. It was tension. Unspoken words. Invisible eyes. Secrets buried under marble floors and expensive chandeliers.

Her fingers tightened around the mug.

She was here for a reason. Not to get attached. Not to care. Just complete the mission. Get in, gather the data, and get out. No one needed to get hurt. Not the child. Not even the man.

But last night’s encounter had left her unsettled.

She’d expected him to be cold. But Ethan Vance wasn’t just cold—he was a storm contained behind a well-tailored suit. He wasn’t cruel, exactly, but he was sharp, calculated, and completely unreadable. She couldn’t tell if he saw through her already or if he just didn’t care who came and went from his mansion.

Either way, he was dangerous.

And yet... fascinating.

Shaking her head, Alina set down the mug, pulled on her cardigan, and made her way to Elora’s room. The hallway was dimly lit, but warm. She passed a few framed portraits—some of Ethan with his daughter, some with a faceless woman whose features were deliberately hidden in shadows or turned away.

The ex-wife. Her name wasn’t mentioned in the files. Redacted. Alina hadn’t pushed for answers. It hadn’t mattered. Until now.

Elora’s door was ajar. Alina knocked lightly, then pushed it open.

The little girl sat in bed, her face buried in a large, floppy book. Her stuffed unicorn lay beside her, wearing a doll-sized sunhat.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Alina said softly.

Elora peeked over the book. “You’re still here!”

Alina smiled. “Of course I am. I promised, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t leave like the others,” Elora said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “They always said they’d stay. But they left.”

Alina’s heart tugged. She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m not like the others.”

“Why not?”

Alina paused, choosing her words. “Because I really want to be here. With you.”

Elora studied her with suspiciously wise eyes for a six-year-old. “You’re not going to make Daddy mad, are you?”

“I’ll try not to,” Alina said, brushing back the girl’s curls. “But he does seem pretty easy to irritate.”

Elora giggled. “Yeah. He’s like a dragon. Big and grumpy.”

“Should I be afraid?”

“No,” Elora said matter-of-factly. “He won’t burn you unless you break his rules.”

Break his rules!. That, Alina thought, was inevitable.

—

By eight, Alina had dressed Elora, served her breakfast in the sunny breakfast room, and walked her to the study for tutoring. The child’s routine was tight, almost militaristic, with no room for spontaneity. Every hour had a purpose, every minute scheduled.

It made Alina uneasy.

Children needed structure, yes—but they also needed to breathe.

She lingered outside the study, pretending to review her own schedule on the tablet Greta had given her. In reality, she was listening. Taking note. The tutor’s voice drifted through the door, and she caught snippets of complicated math problems and historical dates.

Elora answered most of them right.

Smart kid.

Alina tucked the tablet under her arm and made her way toward the west wing—toward the private section of the mansion where Ethan’s home office was located. She wasn’t supposed to be there, of course. It was off-limits.

But limits were exactly what she was here to test.

She kept her steps light, her presence casual. A housemaid passed her, and Alina nodded politely. No one questioned her.

The hallway leading to Ethan’s office was quieter than the rest of the mansion. No servants. No noise. Just thick carpets and polished oak doors. She paused outside the large double doors marked with brass handles and waited.

A faint voice came from inside. A phone call.

“I don’t care what the board thinks. We’re not halting the launch... Yes, I said no... If Parker wants to talk, he can call me directly.”

A pause.

“Because I don’t trust him, that’s why.”

Another pause. Then the line went dead.

Alina didn’t move. Her pulse quickened. So the rumors were true—there was tension inside Vance International. A potential product launch. A man named Parker who wasn’t to be trusted.

Interesting.

Suddenly, the door swung open.

Ethan stood there, sharp as ever in a crisp navy suit, his tie slightly loosened. His expression darkened the moment he saw her.

“You lost?” he asked coldly.

Alina straightened, eyes innocent. “No. I was just... making my rounds. Getting familiar with the place.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes dropped to the tablet in her hands, then back to her face. “The help doesn’t make rounds in this wing.”

She smiled, stepping back. “Noted.”

He studied her for a beat too long. “What’s your game?”

She blinked. “Game?”

“You smile too easily. You answer too smoothly. Either you’re really good at pretending... or you’re hiding something.”

Alina felt a chill run down her spine, but she kept her composure. “Maybe I just don’t scare easily.”

His lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. “Then you haven’t met me properly yet.”

He stepped past her, his scent brushing her senses—something expensive, musky, and unreasonably distracting.

“Stay out of my office,” he said over his shoulder.

Then he was gone.

—

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze. Alina took Elora to the garden after lunch, where they fed the koi fish and played a clumsy game of hide-and-seek. The child laughed freely, something rare in this mansion. It made Alina’s heart ache more than it should have.

She wasn’t supposed to get attached. She knew better.

But Elora was different. Bright. Pure. In need of something—someone—that this house just didn’t give her.

They returned to the house in time for Elora’s piano lesson. The music room was lined with bookshelves and dusty instruments no one touched. The piano was polished to perfection.

Ethan entered ten minutes into the lesson. He stood silently in the doorway, arms folded, eyes on his daughter.

Alina watched him from the far corner, unnoticed.

He looked... softer. His gaze held a tenderness he never let slip elsewhere. The sight of him like this—a father, just a father—took her by surprise.

After the lesson ended, Elora skipped over to him and held up her arms. Without hesitation, he picked her up. She giggled, and he kissed her hair.

Alina felt something tighten in her chest.

Ethan’s eyes shifted. Found hers across the room.

For a moment, neither of them looked away.

And then he set Elora down and left without a word.

—

Later that evening, Greta cornered Alina in the staff kitchen.

“You were in the west wing today.”

It wasn’t a question.

Alina blinked. “I got turned around. This place is... huge.”

Greta wasn’t buying it. “He doesn’t like people snooping around.”

“I wasn’t snooping.”

Greta’s eyes narrowed. “Just keep to your place. You seem smart. Don’t make the same mistake the last one did.”

“What mistake?”

“She got curious,” Greta said, turning back to her clipboard. “Curiosity doesn’t last long here.”

—

That night, Alina lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

The pieces were starting to form.

Ethan Vance was being watched—by more than just her. There were whispers inside the business, movements in the shadows, and people like Parker who wanted to stop whatever this "launch" was.

Her mission was to find out what. Why. Who was leaking information. Who was sabotaging the project.

And what secrets Ethan was hiding.

She hadn’t figured it out yet. But she would. She always did.

What she hadn’t expected... was how conflicted she already felt.

Because the man she was sent to investigate wasn’t a monster. He was a father. A broken man doing his best to protect what was his. Harsh? Yes. Guarded? Absolutely.

But she had seen something in him.

And worse—he had seen something in her.

She couldn’t afford to feel. Couldn’t afford to be distracted. Emotions got people killed. Missions ruined. Secrets exposed.

Still... when she closed her eyes, she didn’t think of files or codes or objectives.

She thought of a little girl with a unicorn plushie.

And a man with eyes like a storm who had warned her, with dangerous softness:

“You haven’t met me properly yet.”

Maybe not.

But she would.

---

End of Chapter 2

It had been a relatively uneventful morning, which should have been a relief.

But for Alina, it only meant something was coming.

She spent most of her time organizing Elora’s bookshelves and helping her sort through her growing collection of dolls, carefully avoiding the west wing and limiting her interaction with Ethan. She hadn’t seen him at breakfast, which was fine. Great, even. The less tension, the better.

Except that calmness was short-lived.

Late in the afternoon, Greta had asked Alina to bring fresh linen to the guest rooms in the east wing. The upper floors were quiet—most of the staff had retired to their break or were preparing dinner in the kitchen below. She balanced the stack of crisp, lavender-scented sheets in her arms and started down the corridor.

At the corner, just as she rounded the bend—

Bang.

She bumped straight into someone. The linens slipped.

And there he was.

Ethan Vance.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. And looking at her like she was an inconvenient thunderstorm.

She blinked. “Oh. I—Sorry. I didn’t see—”

“Clearly,” he said flatly.

Alina dropped to her knees to gather the fallen sheets. “Maybe if you didn’t walk like a shadow, people would hear you coming.”

He crouched as well, grabbing two of the pillowcases. “Maybe if you didn’t roam the hallways like a lost cat, people wouldn’t bump into you.”

She glanced at him, raising a brow. “You really are incapable of a simple conversation without sounding like a condescending professor, aren’t you?”

“I don’t waste time with unnecessary pleasantries.”

“Is that what you call basic human decency?”

Their eyes met.

It wasn’t loud. No shouting. No raised voices.

But it crackled in the silence. Their tones were cool, clipped, but every word was a spark waiting to become a fire.

Ethan stood up first, straightening his cuff. “I don’t expect you to understand how things work here. You’re just—”

He stopped.

Alina’s gaze narrowed. “Just what?”

He exhaled, sharp and quiet. “Just someone who hasn’t seen what this house costs to maintain.”

“Maybe because this house feels more like a fortress than a home,” she said, standing up. “You treat everyone like they’re here to betray you.”

He looked at her, unreadable. “Because most of them are.”

Alina felt her throat tighten. The truth in his voice was... raw.

Still, she met his gaze. “Then maybe the problem isn’t the people.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then —her foot caught on the edge of the hallway rug.

It happened so fast. The linen bundle tipped from her arms again, her balance shifting too quickly backward.

“Alina—”

She fell.

Right against the polished wall, sliding down with a soft yelp. Her back hit the floor, and the sheets scattered around her like snow.

She groaned. “Oh, fantastic.”

But before she could sit up, Ethan was already beside her. One hand went to her back, the other gently cradling her wrist.

“You okay?” he asked, voice surprisingly quiet.

She looked up, eyes wide. He was so close. She could see the faint trace of tiredness under his eyes, the barely-there scar just above his left brow. His palm against her wrist was warm, steady.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, trying to sit up. “It was just a—”

He pulled her gently, guiding her to her feet.

“Stupid rug,” she added, brushing her cardigan off.

“Rug’s been here for ten years. Never tripped anyone.”

“Well, maybe the rug likes me.”

That made something flicker in his eyes—was it amusement?

For a moment, they stood too close. Neither moved. Neither spoke.

Then, realizing the tension hanging between them like thick fog, they both took a half-step back at the exact same time.

Ethan cleared his throat. “I’ll have Greta move it.”

Alina blinked. “What?”

“The rug. I’ll have it removed. So it doesn’t trip you again.”

She wasn’t sure if that was an apology or just a practical gesture, but it made her chest flutter awkwardly. “Oh... uh. Thanks.”

More silence.

Finally, he turned. “Try not to break your neck before dinner.”

“Noted,” she said, voice quieter.

He disappeared around the corner.

And Alina just stood there, surrounded by crumpled linen and a thousand questions buzzing in her chest.

—

That night, while brushing Elora’s hair before bed, Alina found herself zoning out more than once.

“You okay?” Elora asked, twisting to look at her.

Alina blinked. “Hmm? Yeah. Sorry, sweetheart. Just a little tired.”

“You're thinking about Daddy, aren’t you?”

Alina choked. “What?”

“You always get that weird look on your face when you think about him,” Elora said innocently. “Like you want to yell at him."

Alina stared at her. “I do not.”

“You do,” Elora giggled. “But it’s okay. Everyone feels weird around him.”

“Even you?”

“Sometimes. But I love him anyway.”

Alina smiled gently, tugging the brush through the last of the knots. “You’re a wise little dragon tamer.”

Elora beamed. “Yup!”

—

In his study, Ethan stood by the window, a glass of scotch in hand.

He wasn’t thinking about work.

Not the delayed product launch. Not Parker’s thinly veiled threats. Not the potential leak from inside his own company.

He was thinking about her.

The way she snapped back at him without hesitation. The way she fell and laughed at herself, not caring how ridiculous she looked. The way her scent lingered in the hallway—sweet, subtle, frustrating.

He had no idea why that moment wouldn’t leave his mind.

It was just a fall. An accident.

So why the hell had it felt so...

uncomfortable?

Not in a bad way. Not dangerous. Just unfamiliar.

He didn’t like unfamiliar.

He took a long sip from the glass, exhaling slowly.

She was going to be a problem.

He just didn’t know what kind yet.

—

Alina lay awake in her small room, staring at the ceiling.

She shouldn’t have let him help her. She could’ve gotten up on her own. It wasn’t even that bad of a fall.

Why did he look at her like that? Why did she feel like that when he touched her wrist?

Stupid. It was just a moment. A reflex. Nothing more.

But the memory kept replaying in her head like a scene from a drama.

Her brain whispered: You liked it, didn’t you?

She turned her face into the pillow and groaned.

“This is ridiculous.”

It was one awkward interaction.

Still, her heart wouldn’t stop its dumb fluttering.

She needed sleep. Desperately.

But as she finally drifted off, her last thought was a soft, guilty admission:

"I kind of liked fighting with him."

---

End of Chapter 3