Hannah’s POV

The sleek black sedan glided through wrought iron gates that seemed to stretch toward the clouds. As we followed the winding driveway, I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass, trying to calm my racing heart. Less than twelve hours ago, a knife had been held to my face by the man I was now expected to… I couldn’t even complete the thought without my stomach churning.

“We’ll be arriving at the main house in two minutes, Ms. Lancaster,” the driver announced, his voice professionally detached.

I nodded, though he couldn’t see me in the rearview mirror. The Sterling estate sprawled before us like something from another century—manicured gardens, marble fountains, and at the center, a mansion that could comfortably house fifty families.

The opulence reminded me painfully of what I’d lost. Five years ago, the Lancaster estate in Boston had rivaled this place in grandeur, if not in size. Now all that remained were ashes and memories.

I smoothed my simple blue dress—the nicest thing I owned, yet hopelessly inadequate for this setting—and touched the locket around my neck, the only surviving piece of my former life. Inside was a tiny photo of my family, taken months before the fire.

“For Peter,” I whispered to myself. “You’re doing this for Peter.”

The truth was, I had lied to Peter. I told him I didn’t get the position. I wasn’t even sure why I lied—maybe because there was no guarantee this would actually work out, or maybe because I didn’t want him to feel guilty.

The car stopped at the base of sweeping marble steps. I expected the driver to escort me, but instead, a young woman in a crisp uniform hurried down to meet me.

“Ms. Lancaster? I’m Amy Rodriguez.” Her smile seemed genuine, though tinged with nervousness. “Mrs. Sterling asked me to assist you during your stay.”

I’d been prepared to face Finn immediately, so Amy’s appearance was a relief.

“Thank you, Amy. Please, call me Hannah.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly masked. “This way, please. I’ll show you to your suite.”

As we entered the mansion, the soaring ceilings and museum-quality artwork momentarily stole my breath. Amy led me through a maze of corridors, occasionally pointing out rooms—”That’s the main library,” “The formal dining room is through there”—until we reached what she called “the east wing.”

“Mr. Sterling typically keeps to his quarters during daylight hours,” Amy explained, her voice dropping slightly. “He’s most active at night, so your days will generally be your own.”

I nodded, relief washing through me at the postponement of our next encounter.

Amy paused at double doors of dark mahogany. “These are your rooms.”

She pushed them open to reveal a suite that was larger than the entire apartment I shared with Edward. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a sitting area with elegant furniture, a bedroom visible through another doorway, and what appeared to be a private bathroom.

“This is… excessive,” I murmured.

Amy’s eyes widened slightly. “Mrs. Sterling wanted to ensure your comfort during the… cohabitation period.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose… I could show you the indoor pool. It’s rarely used this time of day.”

“Perfect! Let me change and we’ll go.” I paused, suddenly realizing I hadn’t packed anything suitable for swimming. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit, though. Maybe I could just use a pair of shorts and a t-shirt?”

Amy smiled knowingly. “You might want to check your wardrobe, Ms. Lancaster. I believe everything you need has been provided.”

I opened the massive wardrobe in my bedroom and stopped short, momentarily stunned. Inside hung dozens of brand-new garments—dresses, casual wear, formal attire—all in exactly my size. The drawers revealed neatly folded sleepwear, swimsuits, and even underwear, tags still attached. A collection of shoes lined the bottom, everything from practical flats to elegant heels.

“They’ve thought of everything, haven’t they?” I murmured, pulling out a modest one-piece swimsuit.

Amy nodded. “Mrs. Sterling had a complete wardrobe prepared in advance, based on the measurements you provided in your file.”

“This seems excessive for just five days,” I muttered under my breath, running my fingers along the row of pristine garments.

I recalled Victoria’s instructions to “pack light” for my stay. Now I understood why—there had been no need to bring anything at all. The thoroughness was both impressive and slightly unsettling, as if I we