Epsd 3

"What if I don't want to?" Bisila asked, hands on her hips, giving him a look.

"Then I’ll cause you enough trouble until you accept," Mr. James said with a smirk, gesturing for her to step into the carriage. "Listen, young lady, my son arrives in Armsville tomorrow, and I'd like you settled in by today. Lady Matilda will show you around the place as soon as we get there."

"I hope you're ready for the mess I’m going to bring into your home. My charms are irresistible, Mr. James." Bisila teased, crossing her arms.

"I think I’ll manage," he replied confidently. "Besides, maybe what you needed was this chance. I’m giving it to you."

"But I have a few rules of my own, Mr. James," Bisila said, her playful demeanor shifting to something more serious as they rode toward the mansion.

"Oh? Giving orders in *my* house already?" Mr. James raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

"If you don’t like them, you can just drop me off right here," she shot back. "I can still get by on my own."

"Alright then," he settled in, clearly amused. "What are these rules?"

"First," Bisila began, "I hate calling you ‘Mr. James.’ But that’s something I can overlook."

"Feel free to skip the formalities," he said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Great. Second, I don’t want anyone ordering me around like I’m just some servant. Not your wife, not your son, and definitely not your daughter-in-law."

Mr. James chuckled. "Bisila, you'll be working *for* my daughter-in-law. So, the only people you'll answer to are her and me. Fair enough?"

Bisila thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, that I can handle."

"Anything else?" he asked, still smirking.

"Yeah. I’m not giving up my time at the bar with my friends."

Mr. James laughed again. "No one's keeping you locked up. Once your duties are done, feel free to join your boys. After all, you seem to be the only thing they talk about."

"Deal," she said, snapping her fingers. "That's all, then."

As they arrived at the mansion, Bisila looked around at the sprawling estate, its large fountain surrounded by lush greenery. The servants bustled about, bowing slightly as Mr. James passed by, but Bisila couldn’t help but picture herself doing the same.

"Ugh. I’d never bow to greet you. That’s just… gross," she muttered under her breath.

Mr. James glanced at her. "No one asked you to."

As they entered the house, he called out to an older woman who was bustling around in one of the rooms. "Lady Matilda."

"Mr. James," she replied, smiling warmly. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?"

"Meet Bisila," he said, gesturing toward her. "She’s the newest addition to our household. She'll be in charge of caring for my daughter-in-law."

Lady Matilda’s smile widened, though Bisila could sense a slight hesitation in her eyes. "Welcome, young lady. It’s a pleasure to meet you."

"You too, Matilda," Bisila replied with a nod.

"Show her to her room and around the house, Matilda. I’ll have some new clothes sent to her shortly."

"Of course, sir," Matilda replied, nodding.

"Behave yourself, Bisila," Mr. James added with a grin.

"Yes, *captain*," she said with a mock salute, earning a chuckle from both him and Matilda.

As Matilda led Bisila through the mansion, showing her the kitchen, the grand living room, and finally her bedroom, she couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. The room was spacious, neat, and had a bed with crisp white sheets. But when she opened the closet and saw the collection of dresses and other formal clothes, her mood soured instantly.

"Ugh, no way," Bisila groaned, turning on her heel and marching straight into Mr. James’s study without knocking. "I hate the clothes you picked for me."

Mr. James looked up from his paper, raising an eyebrow. "What’s wrong with them? They’re perfectly nice."

"I don’t wear lady’s clothes," she stated firmly. "My body doesn’t agree with them."

Mr. James sighed but nodded. "Fine, fine. Matilda, contact the tailor and have him make her some casual clothes, as she prefers."

Matilda smiled knowingly. "Right away, sir."

Bisila grinned. "Thanks."

Later that afternoon, after a quiet lunch, the tailor arrived to take Bisila’s measurements. As he did, Mr. James chatted with him in the study.

"She’s the one, right?" the tailor, Mr. Davinson, asked with a knowing smile.

"Yes, Brat. She’s the missing piece," Mr. James said, leaning back in his chair. "I just hope she can bring back what we’ve been missing all these years."

"She’s certainly stubborn," Davinson chuckled, adjusting his measuring tape.

"Yes, but that’s exactly what we need," Mr. James replied, his voice filled with quiet hope.

“I'll have her clothes delivered by tomorrow morning,” Mr. Davinson assured him.

“Thank you, my friend. Make sure she gets the best.”

“I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you on this,” Mr. Davinson replied with a grin.