Chapter 2 - The Orchard Cottage
The cottage at the edge of the east orchard was far from luxurious, but to Maya, it looked like a sanctuary.
It was a small stone structure wrapped in overgrown ivy, with a slanted timber roof and small diamond-paned windows. Inside, a layer of dust covered the old hardwood floors, and the furniture was limited to a wrought-iron bed frame, a wooden table with two chairs, and a small brick fireplace. It was cold, smelled of dried lavender and age, but it was dry, structurally sound, and private.
By evening, after finishing her first five hours of grueling soil prep work in the conservatory, Maya had cleaned the cottage until her hands were red and raw. She used fresh water from the pump outside to scrub the floors, laid her only warm blanket over the dusty mattress, and built a small, crackling fire in the hearth.
Emma lay on a soft towel near the warm brick fireplace, gurgling happily as she kicked her tiny legs in the air.
"We made it, sweetie," Maya whispered, kneeling beside her baby and stroking her soft hair. "We have a roof tonight. A real roof."
A knock at the door made Maya jump.
She stood up cautiously, picking up a heavy brass poker from the fireplace before opening the heavy oak door an inch.
Standing on the stone porch was not Evelyn, nor Julian, but a young woman in a maid’s uniform—the same girl Maya had noticed in the courtyard earlier that morning. She held a large wicker basket covered with a gingham cloth.
"Hi," the girl said, offering a warm, nervous smile. "I’m Lily. I work in the kitchen."
Maya lowered the poker slightly, relaxing her guard. "Hello. I’m Maya."
"I brought you some things," Lily said, stepping into the cottage as Maya pulled the door open. She set the heavy basket down on the wooden table. "Mrs. Ward gave strict orders that kitchen provisions were not to be wasted on 'unauthorized personnel,' but Chef Antoine was furious when he heard how she treated you. He packed this himself."
Lily lifted the cloth, revealing fresh-baked sourdough bread, a container of hearty beef stew, fresh milk, apples, cheese, and a box of high-quality baby formula, along with a stack of clean, soft cotton towels.
Maya gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "This... this is too much. I can't pay for this."
"You don't have to," Lily said gently, looking around the small cottage. Her eyes softened when she saw little Emma lying by the fire. "Oh, she’s precious! What’s her name?"
"Emma," Maya said softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Thank you, Lily. You have no idea what this means to us."
"Evelyn Ward is a monster," Lily muttered, kneeling down to let Emma gently grasp her pinky finger. "She’s been running this house like a prison warden ever since Mr. Pierce’s parents passed away. She takes advantage of Mr. Pierce’s isolation. He stays locked in his study or traveling for business, leaving her in charge of everything. She fires anyone who doesn't bow to her."
"Why does Mr. Pierce live like that?" Maya asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. "He seems so cold, yet... he gave me this job when he didn't have to."
Lily sighed, looking up at Maya. "Mr. Julian wasn't always cold. Before the accident three years ago, he was full of life. He played music, hosted charity events, laughed all the time. But when the boat sank... he lost his mother and father in a single night. He blamed himself because he was supposed to be on that boat with them, but he stayed behind for a business meeting. He hasn't laughed since. He threw himself entirely into expanding his father’s company. He treats this mansion like a mausoleum."
Maya felt a deep, unexpected ache in her chest. She knew what it was like to watch your life shatter in an instant. She knew the crushing weight of grief and isolation.
"He saved us today," Maya murmured, watching the flickering flames in the fireplace.
"Just be careful, Maya," Lily warned, standing up and dusting off her apron. "Evelyn is dangerous. She has a nephew, Richard, who works as the estate’s purchasing agent. He’s been embezzling money from the maintenance budget for months—buying cheap soil and diseased plants while pocketing the difference. They’re afraid you’re going to notice."
Maya’s eyes narrowed. "That’s why the boxwoods were dying. It wasn't just poor care—it was cheap, contaminated soil."
"Exactly," Lily said. "So keep your head down, do your work, and watch your back."
After Lily left, Maya fed Emma, sang her a soft lullaby, and laid her down to sleep in the center of the bed, surrounding her with rolled-up towels to keep her safe.
May you like
Maya stood at the small diamond-paned window, looking out across the vast, dark expanse of the estate. In the distance, high up on the second floor of the main mansion, a single golden light burned brightly through the dark trees.
Julian was still awake, alone in his grand, empty fortress.
