CHAPTER- 4

Ace POV:

As I entered the office that morning, Ivan handed me the details on Iris. The information was as stark and disheartening as I had expected. 

No surname, no family ties beyond a brother who had cut her off. She was scraping by with a few low-wage jobs, living in a rundown hostel with a roommate. 

“Looks like I saved her innocent ass,” I said, letting a smirk slip onto my lips as I tossed the files onto the desk. 

Ivan shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he wasn’t particularly surprised by the revelation. 

“I think so, boss,” he replied, his voice steady. “But we need to be careful. Even though she’s in a tough spot, we can’t underestimate the risks. We have to manage this situation carefully.”

“I don’t think she even knows how to live in the outside world,” I said, my voice tinged with a mix of irritation and disbelief. “Everything about her life has been so controlled and limited. She’s lived in this small bubble of existence, and now she’s suddenly thrust into our world. It’s like throwing a fish out of water and expecting it to swim.”

Ivan stepped further into the room, his expression reflecting both concern and curiosity. “She’s likely not accustomed to the harsh realities we deal with. Her situation could present challenges for both her and us. It’s crucial to manage her integration carefully, especially considering the precariousness of her current situation.”

I nodded, acknowledging the truth in Ivan’s words. She was for now part of this world, whether she was prepared for it or not. 

“Fine,” I said, my tone softening slightly. “Make sure you keep a close watch on her. I don’t want any more surprises. We need to ensure that she doesn’t become a liability but also that she remains safe. I can’t afford any complications that might arise from her actions or from her being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Ivan gave a curt nod, understanding the weight of the task. “Understood. I’ll ensure that everything is managed properly. We’ll monitor her situation closely and make sure that nothing goes awry.”

With that, Ivan left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I returned my focus to the papers on my desk.

As I arrived at my mansion after a long day at the office, the usual starkness of the place was replaced by an entirely different scene. 

The house was transformed into what looked like a floral shop. Flower vases were haphazardly placed around the rooms, and the smell of various foods permeated the air. 

It was as if someone had decided to redecorate my space into something unrecognizable and utterly nauseating. What the hell!

“Melinda!!!” I bellowed, my voice reverberating through the house. She came running from the kitchen, her expression a mix of nervousness and guilt.

“What the hell is going on here?” I demanded, barely containing my rage. “Do you think this is a park with flowers everywhere? Is this your house now? Answer me, damn it!”

Her head dropped, and her body trembled under the weight of my anger. 

I had a deep-seated loathing for flowers in the house– it looks so freaking gloomy. I fucking hate it.

“Sorry, b-boss,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “But the new g-girl said you told her to clean the whole house, so I didn’t say anything.”

My frustration escalated. “Where is she now?” I asked, my voice a harsh whisper as I struggled to control my anger.

“In your room, boss,” Melinda replied, her voice trembling.

Without another word, I stormed toward my room, my mind set on killing her mercilessly. My footsteps were heavy, each step fueled by the growing irritation and fury. 

I reached the door and flung it open with force. The room was dimly lit, and I saw her standing beside the wardrobe, looking as stunned as she was terrified. 

Her eyes widened with fear as I advanced towards her, every step deliberate and filled with anger.

“Do you think this is your house?” I roared, my voice sharp and biting. “You’re a fucking maid here! Behave like one. Just because I spoke to you softly before doesn’t mean you can act like a bitch!”

My hands reached for her hair, gripping it tightly and pulling her up, forcing her to look at me. 

“Do. You. Understand?” I growled, emphasizing each word with a harshness that mirrored my frustration.

As I loomed over her, my anger and frustration slowly simmering down, I noticed her eyes were wet and red from crying. 

Her distress was palpable, and her tiny frame quivered with fear. I reached out, gripping her hair tightly, but only enough to pull her closer to me, forcing her to look up at me.

That was when I truly saw her eyes for the first time. 

They were a rich, deep brown, but not just any brown. The color was mesmerizing, like the eclipse of the sun— a striking contrast to the dim yellow lights of the room. 

Her eyes had an intense, almost hypnotic quality that captured my attention in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

Her sobs filled the room, a haunting sound that echoed off the walls. Her body trembled uncontrollably, and I found myself at an unexpected crossroads.

I wanted to leave her but her eyes were forcing me to gaze at them again and again. 

It was.. calming, peaceful.

As I observed her features, each small detail seemed to magnify in significance. 

Her flushed cheeks, the delicate curve of her lips, and the way her hair fell around her face—all these details made her seem even more fragile and human. 

Despite the harshness of the situation, there was something disarmingly peaceful about her presence.

“S-Sir, it hurts. I’m sorry...I-I will not do it again,” she whispered through her sobs, her voice breaking and barely audible. 

Her words were so faint that if I hadn't been standing so close, I might not have heard them at all. Her gaze fell to the floor, breaking the intense eye contact between us. 

“Get out,” I said coldly, my voice devoid of any warmth or compassion. I released her hair, letting her retreat from me.

She backed away slowly, her movements filled with apprehension, and then she fled from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. 

The soft click of the door as it closed behind her echoed in the silence, leaving me in an unsettling stillness. 

Her sobs still hung in the air, almost tangible, weaving their way into the very fabric of the room. 

But it wasn’t just the echo of her cries that lingered— her eyes, those deep brown, captivating eyes, had burned themselves into my memory. 

They haunted me, even now, as I stood there, rooted to the spot.

The room that had been my sanctuary felt alien to me. My eyes scanned the space, noting the changes she had made. 

Flowers in vases, pictures hanging on the wall— these things were supposed to be comforting, but instead, they ignited a fire of anger within me. 

Each small alteration she had made felt like an intrusion, an unwanted disturbance in the carefully controlled environment I had built for myself.

My hands moved of their own accord, knocking the framed pictures off the walls, the sound of shattering glass matching the chaos in my head. 

The flowers were next, their fragile stems snapping under my grip as I yanked them from the vases.

I groaned, clutching my head. The memories came rushing back, memories I had buried so deep that I had almost convinced myself they were gone. 

But they were never truly gone, just lying in wait, ready to rise to the surface when I was least prepared.

Those memories had shaped me into who I was now— someone who could tear apart a room or a human without a second thought.

The room was a mess— glass shards glittered on the floor, petals scattered like remnants of some broken promise. 

I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, trying to breathe through the storm inside me. 

But it was no use; the sadness, the anger, the memories— they all crashed over me, leaving me drowning in my own emotions.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. 

"Boss, you good there?" Ivan’s voice was hesitant, laced with concern. But I couldn’t answer him.

The silence stretched on until I heard his footsteps retreating, leaving me alone.

As I sat there, lost in the mess I had created, my eyes fell on something that stopped me in my tracks— a single tulip, lying on the floor amid the shattered glass.

It was a tulip, the same flower my mother had loved. The sight of it hit me like a punch to the gut, bringing a wave of emotion I wasn’t prepared for.

She had adored tulips; they had been her favorite, a symbol of the small, simple joys she had clung to in a life that had offered her so little.

I reached for the flower, my hands trembling slightly. The petals were crushed, damaged by my own hands, yet they were still beautiful in a way that made my chest tighten. 

I hated that it was here, hated that it was bringing me back to a place I didn’t want to go. But I couldn’t look away. 

The memories it stirred were bittersweet, a mix of pain and peace that left me feeling unmoored.

I tore the head off the tulip, unable to bear the sight of it any longer. 

The petals fell into my hand, delicate and soft, but I didn’t feel their beauty— I only felt the loss, the emptiness they left behind. 

I let the petals fall to the floor, watching them scatter among the glass shards, their vibrant color now a lifeless reminder of what once was.

I collapsed back onto the bed, my energy drained, my mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. The room around me was in disarray, but it was nothing compared to the chaos inside me. 

As I lay there, my thoughts drifted back to Iris— her eyes, her fear, the way she had looked at me. 

There was something in Iris that reminded me of that tulip, something fragile and beautiful, something that I didn’t know how to deal with.

The memory of her eyes and the crushed tulip mingled together in my mind, and slowly, sleep began to take hold. 

But it was not a peaceful sleep. It was filled with dreams of the past, of things I couldn’t change, and of eyes that I couldn’t forget.

Iris POV:

I had been knocking on the door for what felt like an eternity, but not a single sound came from the other side. 

The silence was unnerving, especially after the tense encounter last night. My heart raced as I stood there, trying to muster the courage to enter. 

I couldn’t shake the memory of how he’d looked at me, the anger in his eyes, the way his voice had cut through me like a blade. 

But I had a job to do, and hiding outside the door wouldn’t get it done.

With a deep breath, I slowly pushed the door open, peeking inside. What I saw made me freeze in place. The room was a disaster. 

Glass shards glittered on the floor, flowers lay crushed and wilted, and the bed sheets were strewn carelessly across the floor. 

My gaze traveled across the room, finally landing on him—Sir, as everyone called him— sleeping peacefully in the bed amidst the chaos.

For a moment, I just stood there, taking it all in. He was sleeping so soundly, as if none of it mattered. 

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy. Cleaning this up would take some time, and I needed to do it quietly so I wouldn’t disturb him. 

He always called me a kid, but here he was, behaving in a way that seemed far from mature.

NO Iris! Bad girl. Who was I to judge? 

I had no idea what he was going through, what kind of burdens he carried on those broad shoulders. 

Papa often says you can’t understand someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, and I had no intention of making assumptions about a man I barely knew or always saw from far away.

As I began to clean up, something caught my eye—a bottle of sleeping pills, its contents spilled on the floor beside the bed. My heart sank.

There was something so sad about it, something that spoke of a struggle I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 

Taking sleeping pills like that, it was a sign of someone desperate for rest, someone who couldn’t find peace even in sleep. 

If you can't even sleep then what's the point of living?

Such a poor soul. God, please forgive him and give him a good sleep.

I worked as quietly as I could, picking up the shattered glass, gathering the ruined flowers, and straightening the sheets that had been carelessly tossed aside. 

It took me the better part of half an hour, but eventually, the room was back in order. I left the room as silently as I had entered, careful not to wake him. 

The last thing I wanted was another confrontation.

As I made my way to the kitchen, an idea struck me. I would make him some ginger coriander coffee. 

It was a remedy I had learned from my mother, perfect for relieving headaches, which I figured he would have after taking those sleeping pills. 

If I couldn’t do much to help him, at least I could offer him this small comfort.

Every single person in this house calls him boss. Woow.

The maids had told me to be careful around him, that he didn’t like anything being done without his order. 

Melinda, in particular, had been worried, telling me that he might lose his temper if I brought him coffee without asking. But I couldn’t let that stop me. 

I knew I had overstepped by cleaning the whole house when he had only told me to clean his room, but I wanted to do something kind, something that might make him feel a little better.

As the coffee finished brewing, I poured it into a cup, feeling a bit nervous about what I was about to do. 

I didn’t want to get on his bad side again, but I also didn’t want to see him suffering. He had been harsh and intimidating, but he had also taken me into his home when he didn’t have to. 

For that, I wanted to be grateful, even if he behaved in a way that made it difficult.

I steeled myself as I carried the cup of coffee to where he was sitting. He was in the hall, absorbed in a file, his expression stern and focused. 

My heart pounded as I approached him, trying to gather the courage to speak.

Okay, come on, Iris, you can do this.

Hip hip hurray!

I took a deep breath and stepped closer, ready to face whatever reaction he might have.

Ace POV:

The day was already off to a bad start. 

My head was pounding, the kind of relentless pain that made it hard to think, let alone focus on the weapon shipment details spread out before me. 

I had decided to work from home today, hoping the quieter environment might ease the headache that was threatening to split my skull. 

But even here, the pain persisted, gnawing at the edges of my patience.

I was sitting on the couch, scanning through the shipment logs, trying to force my brain to cooperate when I heard a soft voice.

“Sir…coffee.” 

 I looked up, irritation already prickling at my nerves, and there she was— Iris, standing in front of me, holding a tray with a cup of coffee. 

The dress she was wearing seemed to swallow her whole, hanging off her small frame like it belonged to someone twice her size.

“Did I ask for any coffee?” I snapped, the words coming out harsher than I intended, though I didn’t really care. I wasn’t in the mood for niceties.

“No, boss,” she replied quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But your head must be hurting…that’s why I made something for you to drink. It’s completely safe…no side effects.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. I was about to tell her off when I noticed something— her eyes. 

There was something about them, something that grabbed my attention and held it, like they were drawing me in against my will. 

It was unsettling, to say the least.

“Put it on the table and get lost,” I grumbled, turning my attention back to the documents in front of me. I wasn’t interested in her or her coffee. I just wanted to be left alone.

But instead of scurrying off like I expected, she smiled. 

What the fuck was that about? Did I say something funny? 

I was about to yell at her again, but she started speaking before I could.

“Yes, boss,” she said, her voice a little stronger now. 

“It may taste a little sour, but it will cure your headache instantly, and it’s really healthy too.” She was rambling, her words tumbling out in a rush before she turned and practically ran out of the room.

I glared after her, watching her retreating figure until she was out of sight. That scowl I’d been wearing deepened as I looked down at the coffee she had left behind. 

What if she put poison in it? 

She didn’t seem like the type— too naive, too innocent.

With a resigned sigh, I picked up the cup and took a sip. The taste hit me immediately, sour and not at all pleasant, but I forced it down. It was disgusting. 

But strangely after some movements, I felt the tightness in my forehead begin to ease, just a little. 

I wasn’t about to admit that her concoction was helping, but it was hard to deny the slight relief it brought.

“Ivan,” I called out, not bothering to raise my voice too much. I knew he’d hear me.

A moment later, Ivan’s voice came through behind me. “Yes, boss?”

“Send Melinda to my room,” I ordered, finishing off the coffee and setting the cup down with a little more force than necessary and went to my office room.

"Boss", Melinda knocked on the door before stepping inside, her usual timid demeanor on full display.

“So, it looks like you’re making your own rules now, Melinda,” I said coldly, not even bothering to look up as I spoke. “Why the hell is a little girl giving me coffee in my own house without my order? Aren’t you the chef? Isn’t this your responsibility?”

She nodded quickly, her head bobbing up and down as if she could nod her way out of trouble. 

“I’m sorry, boss,” she stammered, “but the new girl—she wanted to apologize, so that’s why she did it. I told her you wouldn’t like it, but she really wanted to..next time, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.”

I finally looked up at her, my expression cold and unreadable. “Who cleaned my room?” I asked, my voice low and even.

“The new girl,” she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

My frown deepened. “Okay,” I said slowly, each word measured. “Next time, I don’t want this kind of behavior in my house. If you’re going to change something, inform me or Ivan. You can go now.”

She nodded again, relief flooding her face as she quickly backed out of the room, eager to escape. I watched her leave, my mind churning.

I am not punishing Iris because she cleaned my room. Otherwise I would have slit her small throat.

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away. I had more important things to focus on— like the weapon shipment and the tender files that needed my attention. 

But as I tried to immerse myself in work, I couldn’t help but think of the way she had looked at me, the way her eyes had held mine. 

It was unsettling.