The Threads Of Deceit

Chapter One: The Coldest Union

As dawn's first light seeped through the tall, stained-glass windows of Vivian's vast estate, it cast a mosaic of colors onto the gleaming marble floors. Ellie stood at the entrance of the kitchen, her hands shaking slightly as she held a duster, still grappling with the upheaval of the previous day. This was not the life she had dreamed of; she had envisioned herself back at the bakery, kneading dough, not ensnared by an obscure agreement she barely grasped.

Her eyes roamed the grand space, the ceiling soaring high above her like an unreachable sky. Despite its grandeur, the estate exuded a chilling atmosphere, as if each piece of furniture and every ornate chandelier was selected not for comfort, but to assert power—much like its owner.

Vivian.

Ellie had never encountered the woman before she appeared unannounced at her family’s door, a legal document in hand and a voice sharp enough to cut. Vivian’s smile had been thin and calculating as she outlined the terms of the so-called "contract" her late grandfather had signed.

“You belong to me now,” Vivian had declared bluntly. “Until your family’s debt is settled. Consider yourself fortunate—I could have left you on the streets.”

The impact of those words stung, but Ellie felt powerless to object. The signature on the document was unmistakable, binding her to this cold woman and her imposing mansion. Now, her role was clear: serve as the personal maid to Vivian and her partner, Lucas.

"Stay away from Lucas. He doesn’t tolerate strangers," Vivian had warned, her gaze piercing as she scrutinized Ellie. Her tone held an unsettling possessiveness, as if Lucas were an object she needed to protect.

But Ellie was no stranger to resilience. Even as her simple life in the bakery crumbled, she refused to be a doormat.

And who was Lucas, exactly?

As she busied herself preparing breakfast, her thoughts drifted to him. They had yet to meet; he was a mere shadow, a name linked to Vivian. What kind of man was he? All she had heard was that he was emotionally distant, a description that seemed to echo the house’s cold atmosphere.

Ellie returned her focus to the kitchen, where she was arranging breakfast. The stainless-steel countertops shone in the morning light, the aroma of fresh bread and brewed coffee filling the air. She worked mechanically, yet her mind raced. If Lucas resembled Vivian, he was likely just as unapproachable.

Her hands trembled slightly as she poured the coffee, attempting to dismiss the unease settling in her chest. The walls adorned with intricate tapestries and paintings that seemed too perfect to be authentic watched her every movement.

Suddenly, the sharp click of heels on the floor broke the stillness. Ellie’s heart raced. Vivian had entered the kitchen, her presence as commanding as ever. Clad in a tailored suit with her silver hair tightly pinned, she resembled a statue—striking yet devoid of warmth.

“Lucas will be gone all day,” Vivian said icily, her voice cutting through the air. She surveyed the breakfast spread Ellie had painstakingly arranged, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “Don’t expect him to acknowledge your efforts.”

Why would Lucas care about her in the first place? Ellie pondered.

Keeping her gaze low, she continued her work, her heart pounding. She was unaccustomed to such treatment. At the bakery, her hard work was appreciated. Here, she was just another piece in Vivian's cold, manipulative game.

"Ensure the house is immaculate when we return," Vivian commanded, taking a sip of coffee.

Ellie swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the coffee pot. She averted her eyes, choosing silence over confrontation. It was easier to blend into the background. In the bakery, she was greeted with kind words and smiles; here, she felt invisible—just a maid.