Aurea's POV

     Everything is going to be fine, I repeated to myself like a prayer. It has to be. I have a job opportunity now. A real one.

I didn't let myself hesitate for even a single second. I knew that if I stopped to think about the dark rumors surrounding the billionaire Rossi twins and the untouchable, lethal power they held over the city's underworld, I would completely lose my nerve. I would crawl back into my shell, lose my apartment, and end up on the streets. I had to rationalize it. Besides, why would men like that ever take any interest in a completely ordinary girl like me? I was just applying to be a maid.

Even though I had seen their striking, cold faces plastered on TV screens and on the covers of high-end business magazines-looking completely terrifying, merciless, and entirely different from the bubbly, sweet Nina-all I had to do was focus on my work. I just needed to keep my head down, blend into the background, and earn enough money. I couldn't afford to be a coward. Not anymore.

Moving with a sudden, sharp burst of adrenaline, I dragged my old, faded canvas duffel bag out from the closet and threw it onto the bed. The zipper caught twice, a testament to how worn out it was, but I yanked it open. It honestly didn't take long to pack my entire life into a single, small bag. A few oversized, faded sweaters, my two favorite pairs of worn-out jeans, a couple of books, and the absolute basic essentials were all I truly owned in this world.

As I cleared out the top drawer of my scratched wooden nightstand, making sure I didn't leave any important documents behind, my fingers suddenly brushed against a small, velvet pouch hidden in the very back corner.

My throat tightened instantly as I pulled it out. With shaking hands, I opened the drawstring and tipped the contents into my palm, staring down at the delicate silver necklace resting there. It was the only tangible thing left behind by my biological mother. My foster mother had kept it safe for me in a lockbox until the day she passed away, always reminding me that I came from somewhere.

Slowly, I fastened the cool silver chain around my neck, tucking the intricate pendant safely beneath the collar of my shirt, right against my racing heart. The metal felt ice-cold against my skin, but it gave me a strange, anchoring sense of strength. It felt like armor.

By the time I finished packing up the rest of the stuff, the violent storm outside had finally passed, leaving behind a thick, suffocating silence that seemed to press heavily against my eardrums. The air in the room felt stagnant. I lay awake on top of the covers all night, completely dressed, staring up at the peeling white paint of my ceiling as the hours slowly ticked away.

"I will never let a man trap me like that again," I whispered fiercely into the dark, silent room, my voice a solemn vow to myself.

Sleep never came.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Vance's hands on my waist again.

By dawn, I had given up trying.

    As soon as the first rays of morning light filtered through my dirty glass, I stood up on stiff legs and walked straight into my tiny bathroom. I spent several minutes trying to tame my wild hair, pulling it back tightly into a neat, professional bun at the nape of my neck, making sure not a single strand was out of place. I splashed my face with freezing water to shock the exhaustion out of my system and erase the dark circles under my eyes.

After searching the bottom of my bag, I pulled out my best outfit: a pair of tailored black trousers and a simple, crisp white blouse.

I picked up my bag, the heavy strap digging uncomfortably into my shoulder, but I welcomed the weight. I turned around and looked at the empty, quiet apartment one last time. It was a miserable, drafty place, but for the last few years, it had been my safe haven. Now, I was leaving it behind forever, and a small, bittersweet smile finally broke across my face.

   Nervousness twisted my stomach into knots, but beneath the fear, determination burned in my chest. I was ready to face whatever waited for me at the Rossi Estate.

   "Besides, what could go wrong?" I muttered to myself, trying to inject some confidence into the empty room.

I walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a small, stale piece of bread and a cup of tap water. I sat on the edge of the bare couch and ate as quickly as I could. I hadn't eaten a single bite of food since before the incident with Vance yesterday, and the hunger had left a hollow, gnawing ache in my stomach. I finished the bread in a few bites, swallowing the remaining water in one long go.

Setting the glass down, I walked over to the front door. My hand hovered just inches away from the brass knob, my palm sweating. I took one deep, steadying breath, bracing my shoulders for the outside world, when a sudden, thunderous sound stopped me dead in my tracks.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A heavy, booming, and completely authoritative knock rattled the wood of my door, the force of it vibrating straight through the soles of my shoes and up my spine.

My transport car was here. My time in this old life was officially up.

I tightened my grip on the cold brass doorknob, my knuckles turning white as another heavy knock shook the frame. I genuinely thought I was just walking toward a domestic job. A way to pay the bills.

But as I slowly unlocked the door, I had absolutely no idea that I was walking straight into a beautifully inescapable nightmare.

Aurea's POV

The luxury car ride had felt like an agonizing countdown, and now, my time was officially up.

    I stood frozen in the grand foyer of the Rossi Estate, my fingers tightly gripping the worn-out canvas strap of my duffel bag until my knuckles turned white. Calling this place a mansion was an absolute understatement; everything here practically screamed obscene, untouchable wealth. 

 The ceilings stretched up so high they seemed to touch the sky, adorned with intricate, hand-painted frescoes and massive crystal chandeliers that cast fractured light across the floor. It wasn't just a house; it was a sprawling fortress of polished marble, gleaming gold leaf, and a heavy, suffocating opulence that made me feel utterly tiny.

"Don't look so terrified, dear. We don't bite unless we're told to," a warm, gentle voice chuckled beside me, breaking through the ringing in my ears.

I turned to see Mrs. Jade, the head maid. She was a sweet, older woman with kind, crinkling eyes and a neatly pressed uniform. She had greeted me at the door with a smile that instantly made the knot in my chest loosen, if only a fraction.

"Thank you, Mrs. Jade," I said, my voice sounding incredibly small, barely rising above a tentative whisper in the echoing space.

"Follow me, dear. Master Vincenzo is waiting for you in the study room," she said, gesturing with a hand toward the grand, sweeping staircase. "His twin, Master Velarius, doesn't bother with interviewing the household staff. He only views it as a complete waste of time, so you'll only be answering to one of them today."

I nodded silently, swallowing hard as a heavy wave of anxiety caused my chest to tighten with every single step I took up those  marble stairs. Vincenzo. I had seen his face and his brother's face plastered across TV screens. I had heard terrifying whispers about them from the regular colleagues I used to work with at Vance's fashion store. A sharp, aristocratic jawline, eyes as cold and unforgiving as ice, and a ruthless reputation in the underworld that made even the most powerful billionaires bow their heads.

Mrs. Jade finally stopped in front of a pair of towering, dark oak double doors carved with intricate crests. She gave two soft, measured knocks, and almost instantly, a deep, smooth, dangerous voice cut through the heavy wood from the other side.

"Enter."

The mere sound of his voice made the blood in my veins run completely cold, and a bead of nervous sweat broke out across my skin. Mrs. Jade opened the door, giving me one last encouraging nod before turning away down the hall. I took a hesitant step inside, the heavy oak doors shutting quietly but firmly behind me with a click that sounded like a prison cell locking shut.

The room was absolutely massive, smelling heavily of expensive leather, old books, premium tobacco, and a faint hint of rich cigar smoke lingering in the air. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the sprawling grounds, but my attention was instantly locked onto the center of the room. Everything here screamed imminent danger, just like the imposing man sitting behind the sleek desk: Vincenzo Rossi.

He didn't even bother to look up when I walked in. His head was kept down, his sharp eyes focused entirely on a stack of legal paperwork in front of him, a heavy gold pen balanced perfectly between his fingers.

My pulse spiked violently. Every single survival instinct in my body screamed at me to turn back around, rip those doors open, and run as fast as my legs could carry me. But I couldn't. I desperately needed this job. More importantly, I needed a roof over my head. If I ran out of this estate now, I would be entirely helpless on the freezing streets of Italy by the end of the week.

Swallowing my mounting panic, I walked over with trembling legs and sat in the leather chair directly across from his desk, placing my shaking hands flat on my lap to hide the tremors.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the room was the rhythmic, mocking ticking of the expensive antique clock on the wall. He didn't look at me for the next several seconds, completely ignoring my existence. 

Then finally, without warning, he spoke. "Aurea."

The deep, low way my name rolled off his tongue made me freeze for a moment. Then slowly, he raised his head. His expression was entirely bored, his dark eyes hooded as if interviewing a new maid was a complete waste of his incredibly valuable time, and he couldn't wait for my existence to vanish from his sight.

But the exact second his dark, predatory eyes locked onto my face, the boredom vanished. Something deep and intense flashed across his dark eyes. It was blindingly quick, like a sharp spark of lightning striking a midnight sky.

As quickly as that look appeared, it vanished into a mask of pure iron, making me question if my mind had just imagined it. He smoothed his features out and began to conduct the interview. He asked about my previous experience and my daily availability, his tone smooth, structured, and completely detached, like he was talking down to a child. I forced myself to answer all his questions, without showing my fear.

"Everything seems to be in order," Vincenzo said calmly, abruptly closing the folder on his desk with a definitive snap.

I let out a tiny, hyperventilating breath, genuinely thinking the torture was finally over.

But then, he stood up.

His broad-shouldered frame cast a shadow over me. He walked slowly around the desk, his movements fluid, unhurried, and entirely dominant-like a seasoned hunter who had successfully cornered his prey. He stopped right beside my chair, towering over me, his rich, intoxicating dark scent filling my nose and making my brain go hazy.

I looked up, utterly stilled, commanding terror radiating from his posture.

He let go of my face, leaving the skin tingling where his fingers had just been, and walked out of the double doors with a dark, mocking smirk on his face.

As the heavy door shut loudly behind him, a chill crawled straight down my spine. I sat alone in the massive room, my chest heaving as I clutched my burning cheek. I had a sickening, sinking feeling that accepting this job was officially the biggest mistake of my life.