Hand on the knob, I glanced back.
She stood there, tears falling, but forced a smile. Shaky, lips trembling.
"I love you," I said.
"Love you too."
I opened the door and walked out.
The manor was bigger than I imagined.
The drive took nearly an hour, through Brooklyn, Manhattan, past iron gates with cameras, stopping at a massive building. Not a house—a castle. Gray-white stone walls, tall spires, a garden ridiculously huge.
I sat in the car, staring, mind blank.
This was where I'd live?
"Miss Adrian?" The driver said. "We're here."
I snapped out of it, nodded, and pushed the door open.
A middle-aged woman in a black uniform stood at the entrance, face blank, hands clasped. She eyed me up and down, lingering on my coat, jeans, and cheap suitcase.
"Miss Adrian," she said. "I'm the housekeeper, call me Elsa. Follow me."
She turned and walked, no extra words.
I wanted to bring my suitcase, but the driver stopped me, so I followed empty-handed.
Through a huge foyer, marble floors cold underfoot, walls with massive oil paintings—classical stuff I didn't get. Crystal chandeliers hung, every piece catching light, stinging my eyes.
Upstairs, down a long hall. Carpet so thick it swallowed ankles. Floor-to-ceiling windows every few steps, sunlight spilling in, casting mottled shadows on walls.
"This is your room." Elsa stopped at a door and pushed it open. "Mr. Visconti specified south-facing. This one."
I stepped in.
Huge. Bigger than my whole apartment. Four-poster bed, white linens. Windows, curtains half-drawn, sunlight pouring in, view of lawn and distant woods.
Windows.
Sunlight.
I stood by the window, staring out, hit with a weird feeling—not happy, not sad, just empty, hollow.
"Luggage will be brought up." Elsa's voice behind me. "Bathroom on the right, closet empty. Dinner at seven in the downstairs dining room. Mr. Visconti sometimes joins, but not always."
I turned. "Is he here today?"
"He's busy." Tone flat. "Miss Adrian, a few rules I need to tell you."
Rules.
I looked at her.
"First, some areas in the manor are off-limits. The second floor east wing is Mr. Visconti's private space, third floor is the family elders' offices, basement is security. No entry without permission."
"Second, your movements are mainly in this room, downstairs living room, dining room, and garden. If needed, ring the bell by the bed, someone will come."
