--
Bella stood in the center of the room.
Still. Watching.
Listening.
Everything around her was pristine — terrifyingly so. No dust, no smudges, not even a fingerprint out of place. It felt less like a room and more like a glass box on display in a museum — untouched, uninhabited, impossible.
But she refused to let that intimidate her.
She got to work with silent determination.
First the windows — polished until her reflection stared back at her like a stranger. Then the bookshelves, every volume wiped gently, aligned to perfection. She dusted furniture that didn't need dusting. Adjusted pillows already in symmetry. Even scrubbed the floor on her knees — not because it was dirty, but because she needed to prove something.
To Davos.
To herself.
By the time she finished, the light had shifted. The sky outside the grand windows had deepened into a golden haze. Her arms ached. Her fingers were raw.
She stood in the doorway once more, scanning the room like a soldier reviewing a battlefield after war.
It had to be enough.
It had to be.
---
In the kitchen, the scent of garlic, thyme, and seared meat curled warmly through the air like a comforting spell. Mama Kate stood at the stove, her sleeves rolled up, stirring a simmering pot with quiet expertise.
Bella stepped in, swallowing the nervous knot forming in her throat. "I think I've done all I can," she said, her voice carefully upbeat. "I'll be heading out now."
Mama Kate turned, offering her a smile — one of those soft, practiced ones that said she'd had this conversation too many times before.
"That's alright, dear," she said kindly. "We'll get back to you about your resumption day."
Bella's smile faded.
"…Resumption day?" she echoed slowly. "I—I thought I was already hired."
Mama Kate sighed, and it was the kind of sigh that told you the truth was worse than the words to come.
"That's up to Sir Davos. He always... inspects the work personally before giving his approval. He has very specific expectations."
Bella's chest tightened. She could still hear his clipped voice in her head, see the way he hadn't even looked at her, just dismissed her like background noise.
And now her entire future sat at the mercy of that man's opinion?
"…So that's it?" she said quietly. "I just go home and wait?"
Mama Kate reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "You did well, love. If there's any fairness left in that man, you'll get the job."
But Bella wasn't so sure fairness existed inside someone like Davos DeLaney.
She offered a small nod, murmured thanks, and walked herself to the door — her shadow stretching long across the polished floors.
At the threshold, she paused.
Something in her gut twisted — a strange pull, like she was stepping away from something that hadn't quite begun yet.
She turned to glance back one last time.
The mansion loomed silently behind her.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
Bella's Home
The warm aroma of fried fish and spices met her at the door like a familiar hug. But it didn't ease the weight dragging on her shoulders.
She stepped inside, letting the door shut quietly behind her.
Her mother looked up from the dining table, already plating food — steaming rice, vegetables, perfectly grilled tilapia. She smiled the moment she saw Bella.
"You're back," her mother said. "Tell me — did you get it?"
Bella hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then forced a smile.
"Yes, Mama," she lied gently. "I got it."
Her mother sighed in relief and sat down. "Thank God. It's not your dream job, but at least now we can stop dancing around bills."
Bella flinched.
"Mama… really?" she said, her voice low.
Her mother didn't look at her. "I'm just saying. The burden's been mine long enough."
Bella said nothing. She pulled out her chair, then quietly pushed it back in.
She walked away from the table, her movements slow, aching.
Back in her room, the silence felt suffocating. She dropped her bag, collapsed onto the bed, and stared up at the ceiling.
The crack was still there.
Always there.
She whispered to it like a confession:
"Please… just let something work out. Just once."
---
Later That Night
Her phone vibrated.
Luisa.
Bella didn't hesitate. She swiped and answered.
"Hey girllll," came the familiar, sunshine-drenched voice.
Bella smiled weakly. "Hey."
Luisa caught the tone immediately. "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound like hired-and-happy. What happened?"
Bella exhaled. "Mama Kate said they'll call if Davos approves of my cleaning. So... no. Not officially."
There was a pause. Then—
"Wait — hold up. You cleaned. But he hasn't even confirmed the job yet? What kind of billionaire nonsense is that?!"
Bella chuckled, but it was dry. "Apparently he does the hiring himself. Like some twisted final boss."
Luisa gasped. "You met him? Face to face?"
Bella rolled onto her side, biting back a groan. "Yep. Briefly. He came downstairs, insulted my potential, and disappeared like Batman."
"Girl," Luisa hissed dramatically. "Davos DeLaney? That man is stupidly fine. I'd mop the floor with my eyelashes just to watch him brood in the corner."
"He's not a fantasy, Lu. He's an iceberg with abs."
"Oh please. That's rich man foreplay," Luisa purred. "You're basically halfway into a billionaire romance."
"Luisa!" Bella burst out laughing. "Stop. He probably forgot my face already. Or logged it into a blacklist database."
Luisa kept going. "I bet under all that coldness is a man desperate for love and therapy."
Bella laughed again, the tension momentarily broken. "All I know is, if this doesn't work out, I'm back to square zero."
Luisa's voice softened. "Don't say that. You did your part. He'll see it."
Bella didn't respond right away.
She stared at the ceiling crack again — her old friend — and let the silence stretch.
"I hope you're right," she finally whispered.
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the mansion...
The DeLaney study sat in shadow.
Davos stood at the massive floor-to-ceiling window, untouched glass in one hand, eyes fixed on the skyline beyond.
Behind him, Mama Kate's voice echoed faintly from the hallway:
"She finished hours ago. Every surface. Even the damn curtains."
He didn't answer.
But he'd noticed.
The book had been moved — precisely centered.
The lighter, rotated slightly.
The curtains — not just dusted, but cleaned behind the hooks.
Silent. Efficient. Precise.
He sipped from his glass, but his mind wasn't on the liquor.
It was on something else