BOOK 1
Veronica Garcia, a smart and beautiful fifteen-year-old, had endured enough of her stepfather's abuse. One fateful night, during his drunken rage, she seized her chance to escape, fleeing to her abuelo's mansion for solace. However, her newfo...
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Veronica's POV
Waking up in the embrace of silk sheets, I am greeted by a sense of luxurious comfort. The smooth fabric caresses my skin as I stretch out in the spacious expanse of my bed, relishing the tranquillity of having it all to myself. With each movement, I sink deeper into the plush mattress, feeling cocooned in a world of serenity and indulgence.
It's a moment of pure bliss, where the softness of the sheets and the gentle warmth of the covers envelop me in a cocoon of contentment, inviting me to savour the peacefulness of the morning.
Suddenly, a soft and gentle knock interrupts the tranquillity, pulling me from the cocoon of comfort provided by my silk sheets. "Come in," I respond, curious about the visitor. The door swings open, revealing a sweet-looking old woman standing in the doorway, her warm smile instantly putting me at ease.
She gracefully approaches, delicately balancing a tray laden with breakfast goodies and a steaming mug. Placing it gently on the bedside table, she offers a warm smile. "Good morning, Ma'am," she greets me politely, her demeanour radiating kindness.
"Good morning," I reply, my tone neutral, as I sit up in bed, acknowledging her presence. As I reach for the tray, she continues with her message, her sweet tone unwavering. "Mr. Petrov would like to see you as soon as you finish your breakfast, please," she says, her voice carrying a sense of gentle urgency.
I nod at her and raise a curious brow. "What's your name?"
She shuffles nervously on her feet, her demeanour suddenly apprehensive as if fearing reprimand. "Maria, Ma'am," she answers softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
I nod in acknowledgment. "I'm Veronica. It's nice to meet you, Maria," I reply with a small smile, attempting to ease her nerves.
She exhales a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "The pleasure is all mine, Ma'am," Maria responds, her voice steadier now, grateful for the reassurance.
I take a sip from the steaming mug, quickly realising it's tea. Setting it down, I address Maria again. "Like I said, my name is Veronica, not ma'am, okay?" I gently remind her, emphasising the informality.
She nods, a hint of hesitation in her response. "Yes, thank you, Veronica," she says, the word "ma'am" slipping out before she quickly corrects herself. Her grateful smile speaks volumes, hinting at the unspoken rules she might be accustomed to regarding addressing those of a higher social standing.
Maria's sweet smile illuminated the room, her wrinkles telling tales of a life well-lived. With each widening grin, her beauty shone through, a testament to the grace that comes with age.
With a final nod, Maria bid farewell, her departure marked by the gentle click of the closing door. In that moment, her graceful exit spoke volumes, leaving behind a lingering sense of warmth and kindness.
