ELEANOR
It had been quiet here for days now, and I had gotten used to the silence. Since the argument with Enzo, everything felt strange, like the calm after a storm. I hadn’t seen him since he left, and honestly, I didn’t want to. Now I was alone, alone in this big house with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company.
Armando hadn’t returned from his trip yet, and I had no idea when he was coming back. His absence always gave me a sense of freedom that I cherished, but there was also this strange loneliness creeping in. He had laid off all the staff again-permanently this time. That meant no more Isabella. It was just me in this huge mansion, taking care of everything.
I didn’t mind the chores. Actually, having something to do helped distract me from my thoughts. Cleaning the rooms, doing the laundry, preparing meals-even if they were just for myself-kept my mind occupied. But when the tasks were done, when the house was spotless and quiet again, the boredom would set in.
I would sit in front of the TV, mindlessly flipping through channels, not really paying attention to what was on. Or I’d go to the library. Armando had shelves filled with books on business, finance, power and a few more topics.
Dry stuff for most people, but I found them surprisingly interesting. I wasn’t sure why I liked them so much-maybe because they gave me a glimpse into his mind, into how he thought.
But no matter how much I read, there was always that creeping feeling of waiting. Waiting for him to come back. He didn’t usually stay gone for long. His trips were frequent but brief, so I expected that he’d walk through the door any day soon. And as strange as it sounded, part of me was looking forward to it. His presence, though domineering and cold, filled the space in a way that made me feel less… disconnected.
I couldn’t help but think back to when he left for this trip. How he had locked me in before he left. The memory still made my skin crawl. If it hadn’t been for Enzo, I might still have been stuck there, maybe for days, maybe even longer. But then again, thinking about him brought a whole different kind of discomfort.
I didn’t want to think about him. The way things went between us left a bad taste in my mouth. He had seemed so different at first-kind, charming-but everything changed so fast. I didn’t know what to make of it. And frankly, I didn’t want to figure it out. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with him again, not after that argument.
I just focused on keeping myself busy, waiting for Armando to return and trying not to let my mind wander too far into places I didn’t want it to go.
* * * * *
I was cleaning around the living room when the soft hum of car engines filled the distance, growing louder as they approached. I froze mid-dusting, my heart sinking. It could only mean one thing-Armando was coming back. A sigh escaped my lips as the reality hit me hard. As much as I expected his return, I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. The feeling of freedom I had been savoring vanished in an instant, like smoke dissipating into thin air. This mansion, which had felt almost peaceful in his absence, immediately morphed back into my prison.
I hadn’t even seen him yet, but somehow, he’d already managed to take my freedom away.
The sound of the cars wasn’t even inside the compound yet, but I could hear it echoing in my mind. My body tensed as the familiar fear crept in. How could a place so grand, so luxurious, feel so suffocating? All I could think about now was how much control he had over me, how far from over this nightmare was.
The contract was still in place, binding me to him, and the thought of that kept any hope of freedom far, far away.
I quickly resumed dusting, my hands moving faster than before. I didn’t want to be standing around when Armando walked in, not after days of having the house to myself. There was no way I could finish the entire room before they got in-everything had to be perfect in his eyes, even when it already was.
“Come on, Eleanor, hurry up,” I muttered to myself, hastily wiping down the already clean surface of the coffee table. There wasn’t a speck of dust on it, but Armando’s standards were so high, he’d expect it to be wiped again. If it wasn’t done to his level of perfection, he’d see it as failure, and failure meant trouble.
I was well aware of how he saw things. If you didn’t finish a task completely, it was as good as not doing it at all in his mind. He expected perfection, no matter how unreasonable the task. The furniture had to be cleaned daily-even when they were spotless.
The first few weeks, I thought it was ridiculous. But over time, I adapted. I learned to anticipate his quirks, his preferences, and how to stay under the radar, even when he wasn’t here.
I quickly moved to the sofas, dusting the already polished frames, trying to steady my breathing. There was no way I’d finish everything before he walked in. My mind raced, calculating if it was a better option to go back inside before he came in. Maybe if I left the living room, he wouldn’t bother about me.
But I stopped myself. It was better if he walked in and saw me working. At least I could play it off as if I had been busy all day, rather than disappearing. It was always safer to appear hardworking.
I could almost feel his presence looming closer, like a shadow stretching across the room. There wasn’t time to overthink it anymore. I just kept cleaning, hoping that everything would be up to his impossible standards.
In a weird way, the routines had become normal to me. Sure, it wasn’t the life I imagined for myself or enjoyed, but still, it was something I had gotten used to. The absurdity of his expectations-the constant cleaning, the never-ending list of chores-had become a part of my daily existence. I didn’t even question it anymore. I just did it. Whether he was here or not, I worked like I was under his watchful eye.
It was better that way. Less room for error.
I took a deep breath, bracing myself. The engine sounds grew closer, like they were already pulling into the driveway.
I knew he would be here any minute.
I took a moment to peek through the window, my heart already beating faster. From where I stood, I could see the gates opening, and Armando’s convoy began to roll in, like a storm sweeping through the compound. The blinking lights flashed brighter as the cars approached, and the deep growl of their engines grew louder with every second. There were at least six SUVs, but I couldn’t tell which one he was inside. The windows were all tinted, as usual, keeping everything about him hidden until the last moment.
I kept watching, my eyes scanning each car as the doors began to open. His men stepped out first, dressed head to toe in black. Some wore dark sunglasses, even though the sun was beginning to set. I couldn’t see Armando yet though. He hadn’t emerged.
A chill ran down my spine as I waited.
After a few more seconds, I saw his personal bodyguard step out of the front passenger seat of one of the SUVs, the only one that hadn’t opened yet. He walked around to the back, and when he pulled the door open, there he was-Armando Luca. Even from this distance, his presence was undeniable.
He stepped out slowly, like he always did, as if he knew the world waited for him to make his move. He was dressed in his signature all-black look-a long leather coat flowing down to just below his knees, a plain white shirt under a tie, and a black hat tilted just enough to cover part of his face. The cigarette in his hand glowed faintly in the evening light, a thin trail of smoke curling up into the air. But it wasn’t his appearance that unsettled me. It was his face. He looked furious, more than usual. His jaw was tight, his eyes sharp. I couldn’t tell what had happened, but something was definitely off.
I felt my stomach tighten with fear. Armando was rarely in a good mood, but this was different. I had learned to read him a bit overtime, and today, something was definitely wrong. My instincts screamed at me to stay out of his way, to avoid his path as much as possible. Whatever had him on edge wasn’t going to end well for anyone nearby-especially me.
His men stood still until he made his move, then, like clockwork, they fell into line behind him as he started walking toward the mansion.
They followed behind him, not a word spoken-a clear display of the power Armando held.
I quickly stepped away from the window, my pulse racing. I had to look busy, I had to be doing something-anything-so he wouldn’t find a reason to turn his anger on me. My hands shook slightly as I returned back to the cleaning, but my mind was elsewhere, anticipating the storm that was about to hit inside these walls.
I could hear the door creak open in the distance, the footsteps of his men echoing through the hallway. My breath caught in my throat and I wiped faster, trying to focus, trying to seem absorbed in my work. All I could think about was how best to avoid him, how to make sure I didn’t cross his path until this dark cloud had passed.
I could feel the weight of his mood pressing down on me, and I hadn’t even seen him up close yet.
I kept wiping the frames of the sofas, even though I knew they were spotless. Anything to keep my hands moving, to seem productive. I needed to avoid any confrontation, at least for now. My only goal was to keep my head down, stay out of Armando’s line of fire, and make it through the rest of the day without incident.
Deep down, I knew that was easier said than done. Armando was back, and the air in the mansion had shifted the moment he stepped out of that car. This wasn’t going to be one of his usual returns.
Something was brewing, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.