Victor's POV
Victor sat in the parlor, an untouched cup of black coffee steaming at his side, the clock ticking steadily on the mantel. He rarely used this room. It was Margaret's favorite once—before it grew too quiet.
But today wasn't like every other day.
Today, someone new stood beside him.
"Elena," he said, nodding toward the open archway that led to the marble foyer, "come in. No need to hover."
The girl—no, woman—stepped in hesitantly, her hands clasped in front of her like she wasn't sure where to put them. She looked young—mid-twenties, perhaps—but composed, her dark hair pinned back, posture straight. There was a softness in her that reminded him of a time long past.
"I'm not expecting miracles," Victor said gently, watching the way her gaze flicked up to him, startled. "I'm just expecting you to be here. That's more than I've had from most people lately."
"Yes, Mr. Thornhill," she replied, her voice low, respectful. "I understand."
No, she didn't. Not yet. But she would.
He had interviewed more than a dozen people. All qualified, polished, robotic. Elena had been different. Not because her résumé was perfect—it wasn't. But because she looked at him without trying to see a fortune. Because when she heard he'd lost his wife and lived in a mansion alone, she didn't smile politely. Her eyes softened.
That's what convinced him.
She had no idea what she was walking into. But then again, neither did his sons.
---
Luca's POV
The second Luca read the message, he didn't finish the call he was on. He didn't wait for his assistant to ask questions. He just muttered, "Cancel everything," threw on his jacket, and walked out of the studio.
It was ridiculous. Infuriating, even.
Dad hired someone?
No warning. No heads-up. Just a note from the estate manager saying a "new assistant" had moved in this morning.
A live-in personal assistant.
Luca pressed harder on the gas as he veered onto the private road leading up to the Thornhill mansion. The thought alone made his blood boil. His father wasn't that fragile. Sure, he'd aged, slowed a bit—but he didn't need a stranger taking over the house, wandering the halls, worming into his life.
This was their family. Their home.
He had a right to know who this woman was.
He pulled up to the circular drive at the same time another car did.
Of course.
Damien.
---
Damien's POV
He hadn't even closed the final tab on his computer. The minute the estate manager's text popped up, he stood from his desk and ordered the helicopter to be ready.
He arrived at the mansion by car—he wanted time to think. And because he didn't want the staff to see him rattled.
Because he was rattled.
Victor never acted impulsively. Every move was calculated. Strategic. So what the hell was this?
Damien's jaw clenched as he stepped out of the car, just in time to see Luca slamming his own door and stalking toward the entrance.
Perfect.
They didn't even greet each other as they stormed into the foyer. The same thought raced through both minds:
Who the hell did he let into their house?
---
Elena's POV
She heard them before she saw them.
Heavy, purposeful footsteps on marble floors. The sound of expensive shoes moving like gunshots. And then—
Raised voices. Sharp, curt, male.
Her fingers tightened on the folder in her hands. Her chest fluttered—not from excitement, but from the sting of fear she couldn't hide.
Victor had told her about his sons. That they were busy. That they might be skeptical. But nothing could have prepared her for the two men who burst into the room like twin hurricanes.
The first one—tall, dark-haired, with a face too perfect for reality—fixed his gaze on her like a weapon. Luca.
The second—slightly older, colder, sharper in every way—barely looked at her at all. He looked past her, to Victor.
"You hired someone without telling us?" Damien's voice was thunder in the room.
"She's not staying." Luca's tone was fast, dismissive, cutting. "Whatever this is, it ends today."
Elena swallowed hard, heart pounding. She suddenly felt much too small in this mansion. In this family.
---
Victor's POV
He stood calmly, watching his sons implode across the parlor. Elena, to her credit, hadn't run. Yet.
"I hired her," Victor said simply. "Because I wanted someone who would be here. Unlike either of you."
That shut them up for a beat.
"She's not family," Damien snapped. "You don't know anything about her."
"I know enough."
"She could be anyone," Luca added. "A gold-digger, a social climber—Dad, come on. This is insane."
Victor stepped forward. His voice didn't rise. It didn't have to.
"You both left me here, alone. You both chose work, fame, control—over this home, over me. I asked for nothing. Until now."
He turned toward Elena, who flinched just slightly beneath his gaze.
"I asked her to be here. And she accepted."
---
Elena's POV
She could hardly breathe. These men—Damien and Luca—were overwhelming in every sense. Their presence sucked the oxygen out of the room. Their stares felt like judgment carved in steel.
She wanted to speak. To say she wasn't here for money. That she hadn't even known who Victor was until he contacted her. That she only wanted to help.
But her throat was too tight.
"I…" she tried. The sound was small. Embarrassing.
Victor placed a hand gently on her shoulder, steadying.
"You don't need to explain yourself," he said, looking at his sons instead. "Not to them. Not today."
Damien looked ready to argue. Luca looked stunned. But neither said another word.
Not yet.
---
Damien's POV
She looked scared.
Damien wasn't sure why that affected him—but it did. Only for a second.
The way she clutched the folder to her chest like a shield. The way her eyes darted between them, like prey waiting for the lion to pounce.
He didn't trust her. Not for a second.
But something in him hated the way his father had protected her just now. Like she had earned that right.
Not them.
---
Luca's POV
She was beautiful. That much, he noticed immediately—though he hadn't wanted to.
But it wasn't the beauty that threw him.
It was how out of place she looked. Like a wild animal caged in crystal.
She didn't speak back. Didn't defend herself. Didn't argue. And somehow, that made it worse.
He was used to people demanding things, lying, pushing. But she looked like she just wanted to disappear.
And maybe, just maybe… that meant she wasn't like the rest.
---
Victor's POV
He watched the war begin silently.
They didn't realize it yet.
But it had already started