Chapter 13 A New Home
Vivienne's POV
The mansion stood at the end of a long, winding driveway lined with ancient oak trees. It was a stunning three-story white structure with tall columns and large windows framed by dark green shutters. A grand marble staircase curved gracefully up to the main entrance, with ornate iron railings and stone planters overflowing with white roses, purple lavender, and trailing ivy.
The grounds were breathtaking. Perfectly manicured lawns stretched out in every direction, dotted with carefully arranged flower beds in vibrant colors. To the left, a magnificent tiered fountain created a peaceful, musical sound, surrounded by white and pink roses. Tall, neatly trimmed hedges created natural borders throughout the property.
The mansion had multiple balconies with elegant wrought-iron railings on the upper floors. Climbing roses wound up trellises beside the massive carved wooden door with its shining brass fixtures. To the right, partially hidden by trees, a glass conservatory caught the light and reflected rainbow prisms.
The entire estate was surrounded by a low stone wall covered with moss and vines. Beyond the manicured lawns, tall trees formed a natural border, providing complete privacy. Birds sang in the branches, adding to the peaceful atmosphere.
As the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over everything, shimmer.
As the car came to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the main entrance, I sat for a moment, simply taking it all in.
This wasn't just a house. This was a sanctuary, The serenity of the place was almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the tension and uncertainty I had been feeling just moments before.
I was so scared to come out of the vehicle as I don't know what awaits me behind these walls. I can't tell how long I stayed in the car, but the constant calling of my name brought me back to reality.
There standing before me was Lucien, the same Lucien I had called days ago to come to take Raphael to the hospital.
“It's time to get down Vivienne,” he said, his eyes sharp and inquisitive.
“Yes, thanks.”
Finally I got down hoping to see Raphael but he wasn't there. I guess he couldn't wait for me to come back to reality my reverie so he left me in the car.
“This is beautiful,” I said, my voice a little whisper admiring the mansion that stood before me thinking no one heard me.
But Lucien did.
He smiled and led me to the entrance of the house.
We entered the big sitting room downstairs, my hands folded behind my back, careful not to touch anything that would require me paying for it, If it gets spoiled.
“You’re shivering, calm down. It's just a house, no one is going to eat you,” Lucien said.
I nodded.
He led me to sit on the couch while we waited for the housekeepers to finish arranging one of the guest rooms for me.
The couch was incredibly soft and comfortable, upholstered in a cream-colored fabric that felt smooth beneath my fingertips. I sank into it gratefully, my tired body practically melting into the cushions. The living room where I sat was spacious and elegantly decorated, with high ceilings and large windows that let in the soft evening light.
"You must be very hungry, I will instruct the chef to prepare something quick for you," Raphael said, his voice breaking through my thoughts.
There was a hint of concern in his tone, though his face remained as unreadable as ever.
I realized then that I was indeed hungry. My stomach had been tied in knots from all the stress and anxiety, but now that we were here in this peaceful place, I could feel the hunger gnawing at me. I hadn't eaten in hours, maybe longer, I had lost track of time somewhere between the warehouse and the car ride.
"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice coming out smaller and more tired than I had intended.
He nodded briefly, then left, leaving me there alone in the grand living room. And Raphael was nowhere to be found. I watched as the chef disappeared down what I assumed was a hallway leading to the kitchen, his footsteps fading into silence. Then I was alone, truly alone for the first time since this whole strange ordeal had begun.
I looked around the room, taking in my surroundings more carefully now. There were beautiful paintings on the walls, landscapes mostly, peaceful scenes of countryside and ocean views. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, its mantle decorated with what looked like expensive vases and small sculptures.
The furniture was all high-quality, tasteful but not overly flashy. Everything spoke of wealth, but also of someone who had carefully chosen each piece rather than just buying whatever was most expensive.
I leaned my head back against the couch and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened.
My mind was spinning with questions, fears, and confusion. Where was Raphael? Why had he brought me here? What was the danger he had mentioned? And most importantly, when would I be able to go home?
But a few minutes later, before I could sink too deeply into my worried thoughts, I was shown to my room. A woman appeared, she must have been one of the housekeepers, dressed in a neat uniform with her hair pulled back in a tidy bun. She smiled at me kindly, and I felt a small sense of relief at her warm demeanor.
"Your room is ready now," she said gently. "Please, follow me."
I pushed myself up from the couch, my legs feeling weak and shaky beneath me. I followed her through the mansion, trying to take in the details as we walked. The hallways were long and wide, with polished wooden floors that gleamed in the light from the chandeliers hanging overhead. More paintings lined the walls, and I noticed fresh flowers arranged in vases on small tables we passed.
We climbed a staircase—not the grand one I had seen from the outside, but a smaller, more private one that I guessed was used more regularly by the people who actually lived here. My hand trailed along the smooth banister as we went up, my footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house.
Finally, we reached a door on the second floor. The housekeeper opened it and stepped aside to let me enter first.
"This is your room. The boss didn't give us your choice of colors and designs so we just used neutral colors for it. Maybe you can fix it to your preference later in the future," the head of housekeeping said.
She was older, perhaps in his fifties, with kind eyes and a professional but friendly manner.
I stepped into the room and felt my breath catch slightly. It was beautiful. The walls were painted a soft, warm beige that made the space feel cozy despite its size. The bed was large, probably a queen or king size, with crisp white linens and a thick duvet that looked incredibly inviting. There were multiple pillows arranged against the headboard, and a soft throw blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed.
The furniture matched perfectly, a dresser against one wall, a small desk and chair by the window, and a comfortable-looking armchair in the corner with a reading lamp beside it. The curtains were a slightly darker shade of cream, hanging elegantly from floor to ceiling and currently pulled back to show the view outside.
Through the window, I could see part of the mansion's grounds, the gardens still visible in the dimming light. It was peaceful, serene, and so far removed from everything I had experienced today that it almost didn't feel real.
"Thank you, it's lovely," I said, turning to her with genuine appreciation in my voice. And it was lovely—far more than I had expected, far nicer than I probably deserve, given that I was essentially a stranger who had been brought here under mysterious circumstances.
She smiled, seeming pleased by my response. "I'm glad you like it. The bathroom is through that door there," she said, pointing to a door on the left side of the room.
"Fresh towels are already laid out for you, and you'll find toiletries in the cabinet if you need them. If you need anything else—anything at all—just pick up the phone on the desk and dial zero. Someone will answer and help you right away."
"Thank you so much," I said again, not quite knowing what else to say.
She left after a few touches, adjusting the curtains slightly and making sure the lamp on the bedside table was working properly. He seemed to take pride in his work, in making sure everything was perfect. Then, with a final nod and a small smile, he stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click.
Immediately she left, I shut the door completely and made sure it was locked. I needed that safety, that sense of security even if it was probably an illusion.