Three days

Two weeks later

Aurora POV

Navigating the stormy seas of childcare for Alpha Lorenzo's brood is no joke. Ares is a breeze, a true little charmer, but his sister Rhea is a hurricane in a tiara. Call me harsh, but walk a mile in my maid's shoes and you'd get it. That girl serves up a daily dose of drama with a side of sass. And what else would you expect? She's her father's daughter through and through.

Two weeks into this gig, and it's crystal clear: Alpha Ren is an enigma wrapped in a mystery, with a dash of danger. The man's got looks that could kill and a reputation to match. The tales of his iron fist with the previous maids have me tiptoeing on eggshells. I'm not about to be another cautionary tale.

So here I am, clock ticking past midnight, trying to lull Rhea into dreamland. But it's like singing lullabies to a brick wall.

"If you can't make me sleep, maybe Daddy can," she tosses over her shoulder, icy as the winter wind. I've lost my past, but I've found my spine, and it bristles at her tone. Still, I've got enough sense to know that scolding this pint-sized princess is a one-way ticket to trouble. Her daddy would move heaven and earth for her—and I'm not keen on being earth.

"Princess, your dad's probably off in dreamland himself. How about we join him, huh?" I coax, my optimism hanging by a thread.

She pivots to face me, eyes wide and vulnerable. "Aurora... do you think I'm bad?"

Her question derails my thoughts and I'm momentarily speechless. I've been so wrapped up in the mystery of the missing Alpha-mate. Where is she? Why does no one speak of her? Amy might have spilled the secrets, but she's gone, and I'm left with riddles.

"No, you're not bad. Why would you ask that?" I'm genuinely puzzled.

She shrugs, a shadow of something deeper in her eyes. "Never mind. Goodnight." She rolls over, and the conversation is closed.

Curiosity gnaws at me, but exhaustion is a heavy blanket. I stand, exit her room with a soft click of the door, and find myself wandering the silent halls.

The night air is a balm, easing the weight from my shoulders. A walk through the royal garden seems like a balm for my tangled thoughts. I've never seen it at night, and it's nothing short of magical.

"Who am I?" The question haunts me as my fingers brush a delicate lotus. It's the same enigma that's been my shadow for weeks. My past is a locked box, and the scar on my neck is a constant reminder of a key I can't find. What happened to me? How did I come to bear this mark?

The garden whispers secrets, but none about me. Yet, maybe in its beauty and stillness, I'll find a clue, a piece of my own puzzle. For now, I walk, hoping that with each step, I'm moving closer to the truth.

"What are you doing here?" The silence of the night shatters with a voice that sparks my heart into a wild rhythm. I spin around to face the one man whose presence alone can command the beat of my pulse. There he stands, Alpha Lorenzo, a vision of regal power wrapped in a royal robe, his raven hair cascading over his shoulders, a few strands rebelliously adorning his forehead. My breath hitches. Damn! This man is so hot.

"Good evening, my lord," I manage, dipping into a quick bow. His gaze, intense and unreadable, pins me in place, and I swear the air between us crackles with unspoken words.

"I've just tucked Princess Rhea in, and I was seeking a breath of fresh air," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. His eyes never leave mine, and it's as if he sees right through me, to a place no one else has ever glanced.

Then, in a moment that seems to slow time itself, his hand lifts, and his touch lands gently on my head. "You're doing a good job, Auro." His words are a balm, soothing the storm of doubts that often plague me. "None of the maids ever lasted three days with my children, especially Rhea." His fingers ruffle my hair, a casual gesture that somehow feels intimate. His smile, so unexpectedly warm, so devastatingly handsome, seizes my senses, and I'm lost.

"You should rest as well," he murmurs, his voice a melody that I want to replay over and over. Embarrassment flares as I realize I've been caught in the gravity of his charm, openly adoring him.

"Thank you, my lord. I'll retire now," I stammer, fleeing the garden, my cheeks aflame.

Bursting into my room, I lean back against the closed door, my heart a wild drum against my ribs. It's as if I've run a marathon, my breaths coming fast and unsteady. "That was... intense," I whisper to the empty room, the echo of his voice and the warmth of his touch still lingering.

I collapse onto my bed, too drained to think about a shower. I'll wash away the day's grime in the morning. For now, I'm content to lie here, the ceiling a blank canvas for the image of Alpha Lorenzo that dances behind my closed eyelids.

Butterflies riot in my stomach as I replay the encounter. It was more than just a conversation; it was a connection, a moment of unexpected understanding. And then his words echo in my mind, a warning or a challenge? "No maids ever lasted three days..." What battles has Rhea waged to earn such a reputation?