In the cool evening, the mansion's gate automatically opened. A shiny black Audi A4 glided smoothly through the driveway, which featured a circular paved area surrounding a meticulously manicured garden filled with a variety of plants. The huge mansion stood tall, framed by lush greenery and towering trees.
The car came to a stop at the front entrance. A pair of black heels clicked softly against the driveway as a woman stepped out. She walked confidently into the mansion, the sound of her heels echoing softly across the marble floor of the grand hall. Isabella paused to hand her fur coat to the butler, who was about to take it when she raised a hand to stop him.
"You must be the new butler Mom was talking about, aren't you?" she asked, her tone sharp.
Surprised that the young woman was addressing him directly, the butler stammered, "Y-yes, ma'am."
"Stuttering already? I wonder how you manage to command the maids. What's your name?" Isabella asked sarcastically.
The butler's face flushed slightly, but he quickly composed himself. "Theophilus Lucas, ma'am," he replied, lowering his eyes as her warm, amber gaze appraised him from head to toe.
"Well, you look decent enough. I hope you meet expectations like Martin did. He was a good old man, but he's dead now. Poor man never wanted to give up his position. You remind me of him when I was little, so I'm sparing you my words for now. One wrong move, and you're out of my league. Got it?"
Theophilus nodded quickly. Isabella—Izzy, as she was called—raised her eyes, momentarily captivated.
"Theo, is that a new painting Mother bought?" she asked, gesturing toward a beautiful weathered painting hanging at the entrance of the hall, its serene imagery capturing the soul of tranquility.
"Yes, ma'am. Madam brought it home from Madam Helen's dinner party," the butler answered, bowing his head respectfully.
Theophilus was the new butler, assigned only a few months ago after the previous butler passed away from old age. If one looked closely, they would notice the nervousness in him—it was his first time encountering the daughter of the Moreau mansion. Rumor had it that the lady, who moved her fingers elegantly across the painting with a soft sigh, was a fierce woman—feared and respected for her ruthless tactics in her world. She was blunt with her words, uncaring of who she offended, and quick to bite at even the slightest mistake.
"Why are you just standing there with my coat? Don't tell me you're in love with my scent, or are you just incompetent?" Izzy said, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. The butler immediately stepped away, his heart pounding under her intense aura. Yes, she wore a soft floral fragrance, fitting for the CEO of Éclat Parfums, a rising star in the world of luxury fragrance.
Smiling softly at the turmoil she had caused, Izzy continued walking toward the dinner hall where her parents were waiting. She swung her slender waist left and right, the elegant black gown with a square neckline cupping her moderate-sized breasts and sleeveless design flowing in soft cascading layers that hugged her beautiful figure. Her ashen silky hair was set loose down her back to her waist, adorned with a silver floral clip to prevent strands from falling over her face.
Turning to her left, she paused mid-step as she sensed a presence. At the entrance of the dining hall stood a broad-shouldered figure. A pair of dangerously dull ice-blue eyes locked onto hers, producing a smirk from the beholder's face.
"You don't say," the man murmured