Emma's POV
I never imagined my life would lead me here.
The Moretti mansion towered above me like a palace built for kings and monsters. Its marble steps gleamed even in the fading light, rising higher than any house I'd ever seen. Tall windows glittered with gold-draped curtains, and chandeliers spilled light through the glass like frozen stars. I had only ever seen places like this in magazines, the glossy pages my stepsister used to toss at me with a smirk, reminding me I'd never belong.
Now I was standing at the gates. Barefoot.
My old shoes had fallen apart the week before, and my stepmother refused to buy me another pair. A maid doesn't need shoes, she'd said. She only needs to work until her debts are gone.
Debts.
The word wrapped like a chain around my chest.
My father had once been strong. Gentle. He used to hoist me onto his shoulders and tell me the world was wide, beautiful, waiting for me. Now he was frail, coughing blood into handkerchiefs, clutching his chest while my stepmother sneered that he was useless. He had borrowed money he could never repay. And the Moretti family never forgave debts.
So now… it was me.
I had to carry the weight.
The guards at the door looked at me like dirt clinging to their boots, but they stepped aside and let me through. My bare feet echoed across polished marble, the floor too cold and perfect for someone like me.
A maid hurried forward, bowing toward a tall woman standing at the base of the grand staircase.
"She is the new maid, Signora," the servant whispered. "She comes to pay her father's debt. From today, she will serve."
The woman the head housekeeper, Signora Lucia sighed sharply, her gaze slicing over me like a blade. "Pathetic," she muttered, her voice as cold as the marble beneath me. "Do not forget where you are, ragazza. This is not your home. You work. You obey. And you remain unseen. Step out of line, and you will regret it."
My cheeks burned hot. My head dropped low. "Yes, Signora."
Her heels clicked away, each strike a warning.
The maid beside me touched my arm lightly, her tone softer. "Don't mind her. Come, I'll show you the quarters."
I nodded, my eyes darting everywhere as we walked. Crystal chandeliers shimmered like galaxies. Red velvet curtains pooled against the floor. Paintings worth more than my entire house hung in gilded frames. Every breath felt wrong, as if the air itself belonged to people far above me.
And then...
I crashed into something solid.
At first, I thought it was a wall. My breath caught, my balance slipped, and I shut my eyes, bracing for the cruel crack of marble. But instead warmth. Strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back to safety.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Not a wall. A man.
The man.
Adrian Moretti.
I knew it even before the maid behind me gasped, "Young Master."
My blood froze. My heart stuttered to a stop. The heir of the Moretti family the one whispered about in the streets, said to be ruthless, dangerous, untouchable was staring at me.
His grip stayed tight around my waist. His eyes, dark and hooded, pinned me in place as if I were prey caught in a trap. He smelled of whiskey and smoke, but beneath that, something raw, sharp, and overwhelming clung to him.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
This was the man my stepmother mocked at the dinner table, sneering that a spoiled heir like him would never look twice at a girl like me. And yet he was looking.
Not just looking. Staring.
Like I was something he'd never seen before.
"Where did you come from?" His voice rumbled low, rough, rolling across my skin like distant thunder.
The maid rushed to explain, bowing deeply. "Young Master, forgive her. She's new. She came today to work off her father's debt."
Debt. That cursed word again.
His eyes flickered, unreadable shadows crossing his face. He held me a moment longer too long before his hand loosened and I stumbled back, heat flooding my cheeks. My fingers twisted desperately in the hem of my plain dress.
"Yes," he muttered at last, jaw hard. "Take her."
Take me. Like I was an object. A burden. A thing that could be passed from one hand to another.
The maid tugged me away, but I felt his gaze scorching my back until I disappeared around the corner.
My hands trembled. My heart thundered so loud it ached.
What had I done? On my very first day, I had stumbled into him. If first impressions mattered here, mine was already ruined.
I wanted to cry. To run. To vanish into the cracks of the marble floor.
But I couldn't. My father's life depended on me being here.
So I straightened my back, blinked away the sting of tears, and followed the maid deeper into the mansion. My bare feet whispered against the marble as if each step chained me tighter to this place.
That night, I sat on the narrow bed in the servants' quarters, fingers twisting the thin blanket until the fabric nearly tore. The room was silent, but my thoughts screamed. Every breath I took since crossing those gates felt like a dream half wondrous, half nightmarish.
I had never been anywhere like this. Every corner of the mansion gleamed with wealth. Every wall breathed power. I was nothing but a shadow wandering through a kingdom that didn't want me.
But debts didn't care about belonging.
Father's face filled my mind. His tired eyes. The way his chest rattled with every breath. The weak squeeze of his hand in mine as he whispered, "Be strong, Emma. Do what you must."
I had no choice.
And yet…
There was him.
Adrian Moretti. The Young Master.
Even hours later, I could still feel the heat of his hands at my waist, the steady strength of his hold. I had been certain he would shove me aside, maybe even strike me for daring to touch him. Instead, he had held me firm, unyielding, like he didn't want to let go.
My heart raced again just remembering it. His eyes had been dark, dangerous, unreadable but something flickered there that made my knees weaken. Something I couldn't name. Something that warned me not to look too long.
But the part that terrified me most was that I wanted to.
I buried my face in my hands, ashamed. What was I thinking? He was Adrian Moretti the heir to the empire that ruled this city from the shadows. And I was nothing. A poor girl sold into servitude to repay a debt.
I had to stay invisible. Silent. Useful.
Yet no matter how I scolded myself, I couldn't shake the memory of his eyes. The way they caught mine like hooks. The way they made me feel claimed.
And deep in my chest, a whisper I couldn't silence stirred:
I don't know if he will destroy me… or if he will keep me.
Either way, fate had already drawn me into his world.
And I wasn't sure I would ever escape.