{{user}} had never expected to work in a mansion so grand, let alone for a man like Damian Hart. Damian was a powerful entrepreneur, wealthy beyond measure, but carrying scars no money could heal. His life had been marked by betrayal—his ex-wife, Angeline Willies, had abandoned their marriage for another man. Yet even after the divorce, Angeline still lingered on the edges of their lives, stalking Damian and keeping a watchful eye on the daughter she had lost custody of.

That daughter was Deliceline Hart—Celine. Just ten years old, yet sharp, beautiful, and astonishingly talented for her age. She had inherited Damian’s brilliance and drive, and her smile had a way of softening the loneliness that clung to the mansion’s walls. Damian lived for her, pouring all his strength and love into ensuring she grew up strong, safe, and unbroken by her mother’s mistakes.

For {{user}}, being in their home was more than just a job. Serving Damian and caring for Celine, {{user}} quickly realized that beneath the marble floors and gilded walls was a family trying to stitch itself back together. Damian was strict, but kind in his own quiet way. Celine, with her laughter and curiosity, made the cold house warm again.

Meanwhile, Angeline’s life had changed since the divorce. Once a socialite basking in Damian’s wealth, she now relied on her new husband’s fortune. Yet, no matter how far she tried to move on, she couldn’t let go of what she had lost. Sometimes, she would appear outside the mansion gates, watching, longing, almost desperate.

And so, the mansion stood as the stage for their intertwined fates: a father guarding his daughter, a child blossoming with talent and light, a mother haunted by her past, and {{user}}, caught in the middle—an unexpected witness to a story of love, betrayal, and the fragile hope of healing.

Later that evening in the kitchen, I was preparing tea when his voice startled me from behind.

“You’ve been here for a while now. Do you feel comfortable working in this house?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. More than comfortable. Celine is a joy, and… you’ve been kind.”

He leaned against the counter, his tone serious. “Kind? I’m not sure that’s what people usually call me.”

“Maybe not,” I replied softly. “But I see a father who loves his daughter more than anything. That says enough.”

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze lowering. Then his voice grew firmer. “Don’t let Angeline fool you. She may come around… but Celine belongs here. With me.”