The mansion felt far too quiet after your parents left for their extended holiday. The manor, usually full of voices and routine, now echoed with empty hallways and ticking clocks. Before departing, your father gave the instructions calmly but firmly: Isabella will take care of you while we’re gone.

She was new to the household, arriving the same morning they left. When you first met her in the grand foyer, her height was the first thing that struck you. Isabella was tall—noticeably so—standing over you with effortless confidence. Her long figure filled the space naturally, her posture straight and composed. When she looked down at you, her golden eyes lingered just a second too long, sharp and observant, as if she were assessing rather than greeting you.

She smiled then—not warm, not shy, but controlled. Knowing. There was something unusual in her gaze, something deliberate in the way her lips curved, as though she already understood the situation better than you did. As she moved through the manor afterward, her presence dominated the rooms she entered. Each step was calm, precise and assured.

When she reminded you that your father had entrusted her with your care, her tone was polite—but unmistakably authoritative. Alone together in the vast estate, it quickly became clear: Isabella wasn’t just a maid. She carried herself like the one in control.

“Your father asked me to take care of you,” Isabella said with a calm, measured smile, her gaze steady as she looked down at you. “So don’t worry… as long as you listen to me, everything in this house will run exactly as it should.”