A DANGEROUS PLAN

The following morning, the journey to the Blackwell estate seemed unreal. 

The streets of Manhattan are usually filled with busy spots and a lot of folks, but they quickly transformed into a peaceful avenue boarded with trees. The towering hedges flanking both sides rose high, preventing curious passersby from peeping into homes.

We took a final left and approached the Blackwell gate; my stomach twisted. The mansion was more than just a house; it was a fortress. Tall glass walls shimmered in the sunlight, and the finely-cultured gardens stretched endlessly beyond the grand iron gates.

The taxi came to a halt, and I hesitated for a moment before getting out. The gates made tiny howling sounds as they opened, their slow, deliberate movement adding to the tension.

A keen-eyed woman stood at the entrance with a clipboard in hand. She dusted the floor mat entrance as I approached her. I could tell her eyes were scanning me like a laser as if she could see straight into my soul.

"Are you here for the interview?" she asked with a keen tone.

"Yes," I replied, keeping my voice steady.

She nodded while dropping the dustpan behind a shelf. "You're welcome. I'm Maria. Come with me," she said.

Inside, the mansion was even more formidable. The floors shone like glass, and chandeliers dangled like glowing gems. Each step I took echoed loudly, making me feel even more out of place.

"First and foremost, you are going to be meeting Mr. Roberts," the woman said as we walked past a fountain and through the corridors. 

"He handles all decisions regarding personnel you see. Be respectful and speak clearly and to the point. Good luck!" 

I nodded while clutching my bag tightly. She stopped when we approached a set of heavily built wooden doors, pushed one open, and signalled for me to come in.

Mr Robert stood behind a wide desk. He was an elderly man with silver hair and an aura of serious professionalism. He didn't look up right away, instead finishing something on the papers in front of him.

"Have a seat," he said, his tone assertive.

I sank into the chair, folding my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking.

"Why do you want to be employed here?" He asked, his tone direct.

"I'm looking for a stable job," I replied, attempting to sound confident. "I've worked in smaller homes but wish to gain experience in a more structured environment."

He raised an eyebrow as if my response had raised more curiosity. "And can you tell me why you left your previous job?"

I kept my response neutral. "It became personal," I said softly. "I thought it was best to move on."

He observed me for a long moment before nodding. "Maria will give you a trial task. If it meets our standards, you'll start tomorrow."

The dining room was as magnificent as the rest of the house. A long table stretched through the centre, its glossy surface reflecting the light from a fancy chandelier above.

Maria handed me a pile of silverware and plates, her instructions brief and to the point. "Set the table for tonight's dinner" as she pointed towards the finely crafted furniture. 

"Everything needs to be flawless, Mr. Blackwell doesn't take nonsense."

I nodded to show I understood her message. My hands shook slightly as I set each piece down carefully. Every fork, every knife, and every glass I adjusted brought me closer to accomplishing my task.

The silence in the room was ear-piercing and made the sound of every clink of silverware loud. I was placing the final glass when a deep voice startled me.

"Is this the new maid?"

The sound of the voice made my heart jump.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. His presence filled the room. 

"Yes, Mr. Blackwell," Maria replied promptly. "Anna Carter."

I turned around slowly and struggled not to look at his face. But he held my chin up, and our faces interlocked. His distinct features and piercing green eyes were even more striking in person.

"Where did you work before now?" he asked, his voice steady yet inquisitive.

"Private residences," I replied. "Smaller ones."

He examined me for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, then gave a slight nod. "Let's see how useful you can be," he said with a grin on his face before leaving the room.

The tension in the air lowered a bit, but my stomach kept turning on its own.

Later, Mr. Roberts returned to inspect the table I had set. His weary eyes scanned every detail, and his silence made me more nervous with each passing second.

Finally, he nodded. "Good enough. You'll begin tomorrow morning."

Maria escorted me back through the hallways. It was a silent walk, but the pressure I felt earlier had lowered drastically. When we reached the front door, a polished white Lincoln Navigator was already waiting by the grand entrance.

That evening, the events of the day played over and over in my mind. I sat at my small desk, staring at the application confirmation on my laptop. I still felt a bit of anxiety from meeting Adrian Blackwell for the first time. His presence was unlike anything I had imagined—intimidating, commanding, yet strangely magnetic.

I exhaled deeply, trying to focus. My phone buzzed with an email notification, and I glanced at the screen. The subject line caught my attention immediately: "Congratulations, Anna Carter."

The message was brief and confirmed my employment at the Blackwell estate. I sensed a bit of relief as I read it, but before I could close the email, another notification popped up.

This one was different. The sender was anonymous, and the subject line read: "Be careful who you trust at Blackwell Mansion."

My breath hitched. I stared at the screen, a chill running down my spine. Someone knew. But who? And why were they warning me?