Under The Opulent Roof

The mansion towered above her like a silent warning.

Elena Blake tightened her grip on her small travel bag, her palms damp with sweat as she stared at the sprawling black-glass structure. It was the kind of mansion built for kings, not for twenty-two-year-old girls who had never left the outskirts of Benford their entire life.

A cold wind swept through the driveway, carrying the scent of rain and something else-

danger.

Elena swallowed.

"This is just a job," she whispered to herself.

"A housemaid job. You need this. You have to do this."

Her mother's hospital bill flashed in her mind. The number was so high it made her stomach twist. She needed work-any work-and this was the first offer that didn't turn her away after seeing her CV.

But still... why did a billionaire need a live-in housemaid urgently? And why did the online advert disappear minutes after she applied?

Before she could think too long, the huge iron gate buzzed, slowly sliding open.

A tall man in a fitted black suit stepped out. Sharp jawline. Slick hair. Emotionless eyes.

He looked like a walking security system.

"You're the applicant?" he asked.

"Yes. Elena. Elena Blake." She stuttered.

He gave a stiff nod.

"I'm Mr. Adrian Harrington's personal aide. Follow me."

Her heart jumped.

Adrian Cole Harrington.

Tech billionaire. Cold. Reclusive. The man whose scandals and heartbreaks were whispered across tabloids like forbidden secrets.

Elena inhaled shakily and followed the aide through a manicured stone path leading toward two giant black doors.

The mansion swallowed her in silence.

Inside was even more intimidating-white marble floors, tall chandeliers dripping with crystals, and walls echoing with emptiness.

"Wait here," the aide said before disappearing behind a large oak door.

Elena stood alone.

Her shoes squeaked softly. Her breath trembled. She didn't belong here-anyone could see it. The gold and silver everywhere made her feel like a misplaced stain in someone else's world.

Maybe I shouldn't be here.

Before she could turn to leave, the air shifted-cold and sharp.

Someone was watching her.

She froze.

A man leaned against the glass staircase above, half in shadow. Dark hair. Darker eyes. Broad shoulders wrapped in an expensive black shirt rolled at the sleeves. His presence filled the room like a silent storm.

Adrian Cole Harrington.

Her breath stopped.

He descended the stairs slowly, each step echoing with a quiet authority that made her heart pound.

When he finally reached her, he didn't speak.

He simply stared-intensely, sharply-studying her like she was a puzzle he didn't remember buying.

"You're... the new housemaid?" he finally said, voice low and unreadable.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

His eyes swept over her modest clothes, tired eyes, and trembling hands.

Not with lust.

Not with pity.

But with a calculating coldness that made her knees weak.

"You look fragile," he said.

"You won't last a week here."

Her throat tightened. "I-I need this job, sir."

He stepped closer, and she could smell him-rich cedar, cold night air, and