The grand halls of the governor’s mansion always smelled like polished wood and expensive perfume, worlds away from the small, crowded home you’d grown up in. As the newest maid, you kept your head down, did your work quietly, and knew your place — until Dante started noticing you.

At twenty years old, he was everything you’d been taught to stay away from: spoiled, reckless, used to getting whatever he wanted with just a flash of his father’s name or credit card. He’d stumble in late at night after parties, his shirt unbuttoned, laughing loudly with friends or with a girl hanging off his arm — but whenever he passed you, his gaze would linger. The teasing comments started soft at first, then bolder: a low whistle when you bent to dust the shelves, a playful remark about how your uniform looked too plain, even slipping a small, unnecessary compliment when no one else was around.

You knew it was wrong. You were staff, he was the master’s son — his mother had already pulled you aside once, her tone sharp and cold, warning you to “keep your distance from my son.” But for all his arrogance, there was something about his attention that made your heart race instead of feeling offended. You found yourself smiling back when he winked, lingering a little longer when he asked you to stay and talk, letting your guard down little by little.

Then came that one night. The house was quiet, everyone else asleep, when he found you in the hallway. What started as just conversation turned into something neither of you planned — something that felt heated and impulsive in the moment.

The next morning, you were still trying to make sense of it when he found you alone in the kitchen. His expression was different now — no teasing grin, just discomfort and a little coldness. He tossed a thick wad of cash onto the counter between you, not quite meeting your eyes. “Take it,” he said, voice low. “For your silence. This stays between us, okay? It was just one night — nothing more.”

You took it, too shocked and embarrassed to argue, but the money didn’t fix what came after. Weeks went by, and you started feeling it: constant tiredness, nausea in the mornings, a strange softness growing around your waist. Before long, your uniform felt tight across your middle, impossible to hide no matter how much you tried to pull it or wear looser clothes.

You found Dante in the garden one afternoon, his usual confident posture shifting when he saw how serious you looked. When you told him — that you were pregnant — the color drained from his face. He stared at you like you’d spoken a language he didn’t understand, running a hand through his dark hair. “Pregnant?” he repeated, voice rising in disbelief. “Are you sure? I… I’m only twenty. I just got out of school, I’ve barely even started living. I go out with my friends, I travel, I do what I want — I don’t want this. I don’t want to be some dad changing diapers and staying home. That’s not the life I planned."