Get in.

The butler, Nickison was outside running his errands, trying to avoid the looming wrath of his boss, Dallion Cross, as he had failed to follow orders of watching over the room he'd locked Sherry in. When he reached the garage, he overheard the staff speaking loudly—a rare occurrence, as they usually spoke in hushed tones. The butler’s eyes widened at the mention of five hundred thousand dollars.

He had heard that this girl was bought for a thousands of dollars, a rumor spread by the housekeeper who had, in turn, heard it from the security team. But five hundred thousand? Was this girl really worth that much? Was she made of diamonds? Nickison thought to himself, glancing at the girl who looked like she hadn't showered in days. The shock mirrored on the faces of the house staff before he composed himself and stepped into the garage, resuming his role of checking the new kitchen products that were brought .

"Making a mess where cars are cleaned," Nickison said, catching Sherryl Rain's attention.

Sherryl bowed her head, ready to leave, when Nickison stopped her. "Where do you think you’re going like that?"

She raised her hand, indicating the general direction of the house, only to see his disapproving frown. "Do you want Master Dallion to throw you out? Go to the servant’s quarters and clean up. Now."

"But he said-"

"You’re not stepping into this place looking like a street beggar. Until you clean yourself, don’t come back," Nickison snapped, his tone unwavering.

"But Dallion asked me to-"

"Do you want me to report you for disobedience?" Nickison’s cold gaze locked with hers.

"How come she’s not getting punished? Don’t tell me she gets special treatment," Sherryl overheard one of the staff whisper behind her. She sighed and gave up, realizing that Nickison wouldn’t budge. She headed outside, towards the servant’s quarters, the dim lights making the place appear almost abandoned.

The walls of the quarters were a dull grey, lit only by a few flickering bulbs that cast long shadows on the floor. Sherryl shivered in the cool evening air. The hallways here were colder than the rest of the estate. She rubbed her hands over her arms but it didn’t help. The lights ahead dimmed even more, making her question if she had taken a wrong turn.

She bumped into someone, letting out a gasp.

"Who’s there?" she asked, startled, only to hear a man’s low chuckle in response.

"I should be asking you that. Don’t you know the Crosses don’t take kindly to intruders? Run before you get caught," the man teased.

"I’m not an intruder! Why is it so dark here?" Sherryl asked, feeling her way along the walls.

"The bulb probably went out. Where are you?" The man's voice came closer, and soon she felt a hand brush against her.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Sherryl jerked away.

"Doing you a favor. You don’t look like a guest, and I don’t know of any new staff. You’re not a trespasser, are you?" the man inquired, his voice still carrying a trace of amusement.

"I’m new," Sherryl said quickly, deciding not to mention that she was technically a captive—she didn’t want to be looked down upon more than she already was.

"The boss didn’t mention anything about new staff."

"Because I just arrived. Can you show me to the baths?"

"Sure, give me your hand," he offered, but Sherryl wasn’t having it.

"No, just keep talking and I’ll follow your voice. Or better yet, go grab a light," she suggested. She had already dealt with enough deceit to last her a lifetime; she wasn't about to blindly trust anyone.

"For a servant, you’ve got some standards," the man replied with a smirk. Nevertheless, he agreed. "Fine, wait here. I’ll get a flashlight. Last thing I need is a lawsuit."

Moments later, the light appeared in the distance as the man returned, holding a lantern. He was dressed in standard staff attire, pale purple, just like the others. His hair and eyes matched, both a deep brown.

"What happened to you?" he asked, noticing her dirty appearance.

"Can you just show me the way?" Sherryl deflected, her mind racing as she recalled Dallion’s cryptic order. Was he waiting for her? Was this all just some elaborate mind game? The thought chilled her more than the cold air.

"Did you fall in the mud?" the man asked with a grin.

"Yes," Sherryl muttered, not in the mood for small talk.

"The grounds near the gardens are slippery in the rain. Watch your step next time," he said, stopping before a small passageway hidden by a heavy curtain. "Here you go."

Sherryl stepped in cautiously, entering the small, dimly lit wash area. A pond connected to the mansion grounds lay in front of her. It was clearly where the staff cleaned up after a long day. She scanned the room, relieved that it seemed deserted. But her relief quickly faded as she realized she had nothing to change into. Just as she debated her next move, another woman entered, carrying some fresh clothes.

"The butler asked me to bring these for you," the woman said softly, handing over the simple attire.

"Thank you," Sherryl said, nodding gratefully. She recognized her as one of the maids from earlier but chose not to engage further, waiting for her to leave before quickly covering the entrance with the curtain.

Taking a deep breath, she undressed and waded into the freezing water. It felt like needles against her skin, but she washed as quickly as she could. Once done, she changed into the fresh clothes, her hair still dripping wet.

As she exited the servant’s quarters, she noticed two guards standing nearby. They hadn’t been there when she entered. Was Dallion having her watched? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. With damp hair and cold feet, Sherryl made her way back to the mansion.

Inside, Nickison gave her a brief glance before she headed upstairs to Dallion’s room. Her heart pounded with each step as she approached his door, hand raised to knock but hesitating in mid-air. Could she really go through with this?

Before she could decide, the door swung open, revealing Dallion. His dark eyes flickered with amusement.

"Planning to sleep in the hallway, little mouse?" His voice was smooth, with a hint of a smirk. "You’re welcome to, though. That’s how pets are treated."

Without waiting for her response, he gestured inside. "Get in."

Sherryl entered, her heart racing as she heard the door click shut behind her.

"What took you so long?" Dallion asked, his eyes following her every movement. "It shouldn’t take that long to wash up."

He had changed into fresh clothes, his jet-black hair still damp from his own shower. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up a towel.

"Come here, little mouse. Let’s dry your hair. Can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?"