Chapter 1

I was the head maid at Harrington Manor. Eight years ago, General Herbert Harrington and his son General Dylan Harrington saved me. They found me as a girl, hiding from my drunkard father and his belt.

Everyone said I was lucky, that I'd hitched my wagon to Dylan's star.

Eight years later, on Dylan's mother's sixtieth birthday, she all but announced she was setting me up with Dylan.

The whole room held its breath, waiting for my tearful performance of gratitude. Even Dylan's usual stern look softened, as if he, too, was waiting to hear "yes."

My voice shook with tears. "Your kindness overwhelms me. But my heart is spoken for. Please, grant me my freedom. Let me return home and marry Tommy Smith."

For a moment, Dylan's face went livid. He looked like he'd just swallowed a bitter pill.

*****

Dylan's voice came out in a low, dangerous growl, like thunder rumbling before a storm. "What did you just say?"

My head was buried so low that it nearly touched the floor, my shoulders shaking as I sobbed. I looked utterly heartbroken, like a flower battered by rain.

"Please, General Harrington. Just let me go," I pleaded, my voice trembling.

But inside, my mind was racing, planning my escape down to the last detail.

Eight years. Eight whole years. I came here as a scrawny eight-year-old. Now I'm 16. I woke up before the roosters and went to bed after the dogs, all just to keep Dylan, that absolute tyrant, happy and comfortable. For what?

Just so that today, when my contract was finally up, I can collect my "pension" and go home in comfort.

Stay by his side as his personal maid? Are you serious?

That was just a fancy title for a 24/7 slave. No life of my own. No clocking out. And when he brought home a real wife? I'd be the first thing she threw out. One word from her, and I was back on the street. Game over.

My dream? To go home. To take the money I'd scraped together these eight years and open a little shop. To marry a decent man, like Tommy. Have a few children. Just a quiet, steady life. Nothing more.

"Who the hell is Tommy?" Dylan's voice dropped even colder, sharp enough to freeze the air.

Oh, hell. I just pulled that name out of thin air. How did I make a whole person appear?

But I'd already gone this far—no turning back now. I had to keep the act going.

"He... he's from my village. My neighbor. We have promised to each other since we were kids," I stammered, pulling out a chunk of wood I'd polished smooth from inside my dress. "This... this is the keepsake he gave me."

In truth, I'd picked up that scrap from the firewood pile a week ago. To make it look real, I'd even carved a few clumsy marks into it with my sewing needle.

Dylan stared at the wood. His gaze was like a blade, ready to splinter it and me into nothing.

The whole room was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Dylan's mother, Elaine Harrington, looked awkward, her face stiff. She'd tried to do me a favor, and I was throwing it right back in her face. How stubborn, how ungrateful.

"Rose," she said, her voice laced with irritation, "are you certain? Leave now, and you leave for good. There is no coming back. Stay, and you secure your future. Here, you will count for something."

I scoffed inwardly. Count for something? More like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

"I am certain." I dropped into a deep curtsy, keeping my head lowered. "I'm just an ordinary girl—not fit for someone like General Harrington. I only wish for a quiet life with Tommy."

"A quiet life." Dylan let out a laugh, but it was chilling—no real amusement, just a cold edge that made my skin crawl.

He stepped right up to me, crouched down, and whispered so only I could hear, "You had better be telling the truth. If I discover this 'Tommy' is a ghost you invented today..."

He didn't finish, but I got the message loud and clear.

If it were a lie, he'd end me on the spot.

I shuddered, crying even harder, my voice shaking with fear. "I would never lie. Every word is true, I swear. Please, you must believe me."

Dylan stood up, looking down at me with cold contempt, as if I were a foolish insect he could crush under his heel.

After a long, heavy silence, he finally spat out, "Fine."

Inside, I was ecstatic, but I didn't dare let a hint of it show. I kept my mask firmly in place, still playing the part of the grateful, sobbing maid.

"But," he continued, his voice icy, "your service contract stays with me. You leave only when this 'Tommy' appears in the city to collect you himself."

With that, he walked away without a backward glance.

I stood there, totally dumbfounded. My thoughts were a chaotic stampede, crashing into each other.

That cunning bastard. He was playing me.

He didn't believe a single word. Now he was forcing me to make my lie real.