The Rich Maid

The grand manor stood at the end of a winding driveway, its tall, imposing structure looming over the well-manicured gardens like a sentinel of times long past. Victoria, a young woman in her mid-twenties, stepped out of the taxi, her breath visible in the crisp autumn air as she took in the sight. Sinclair Manor was more than she had expected-its stone facade, dotted with ivy, exuded a sense of history, a grandeur that felt both alluring and intimidating. She felt a nervous thrill flutter in her stomach. This was her new place of employment, her new life.

Victoria adjusted the collar of her coat, trying to shake off the nerves as she approached the massive wooden doors. She could hear the echo of her footsteps on the gravel, a rhythmic reminder of how alone she was here. The house had a presence, a kind of weight that made her feel like she had already stepped into a different world-one where she didn't quite belong. But she had no choice. A job was a job, and Sinclair Manor had a reputation for paying well.

Before she could knock, the heavy doors swung open, revealing Mr. Sinclair himself. He was a striking man, easily in his late thirties, with sharp features and a carefully cultivated appearance that spoke of old money. His dark hair was immaculately combed back, and his tailored suit clung to a physique that exuded both power and grace. His eyes, a piercing shade of blue, scanned Victoria with a quiet intensity that made her shiver despite herself.

"Miss Victoria, I presume?" His voice was smooth, deep, and carried the kind of confidence that came from a lifetime of getting exactly what one wanted. "Welcome to Sinclair Manor."

Victoria felt her breath catch in her throat. "Yes, Mr. Sinclair," she said, her voice quieter than she intended. "It's an honor to be here."

His eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, and she couldn't quite read his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? Desire? Whatever it was, it was enough to make her skin tingle. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter, and Victoria took her first step into what felt like another world.

The foyer was breathtaking-marble floors gleamed underfoot, a grand chandelier hung above, casting a soft, golden light over the room. Every inch of the place screamed wealth, from the intricate carvings in the walls to the antique mirrors that reflected every flicker of light. Victoria felt small, insignificant in comparison.

Mr. Sinclair moved with the same effortless grace as he led her deeper into the manor. "I'll have Mrs. Harlow show you to your quarters and explain your duties," he said, his tone businesslike but still carrying that underlying current of something more. "But before that, there's one thing you need to understand."