As we pulled up to the mansion, I couldn't help but stare in awe. It was a masterpiece—a grand, classical French château with every detail meticulously crafted.
The towering stone walls, intricate ironwork, and manicured gardens gave off an air of old-world elegance.
It felt less like a home and more like stepping into a different era, where everything screamed wealth, history, and untouchable legacy.
I knew for a fact that Sophia had her sights set on this ancestral home for years. She had bent over backward, doing everything in her power to cozy up to Sinclair, hoping that one day he'd pass it down to her.
In her mind, this was her future—the crown jewel of her efforts.
But that was all wishful thinking now. Sophia might have had plans, but knowing Sinclair, he'd probably leave the entire estate to his dog before he ever gave it to her.
If Sinclair's sons, Sullivan and Stefan, had played their cards right, this mansion could've been theirs. But the truth was, they had burned those bridges long ago.
If only they had behaved like decent human beings, maybe, just maybe, Sinclair would've handed them everything—his empire, his fortune, this very mansion.
It could've all been theirs, laid at their feet like a king's inheritance.
But reality had other plans.
Their greed had consumed them, that insatiable hunger for control, the constant need to rebel against their father's shadow.
They didn't just want his fortune—they wanted the power to bend the world to their will. And in their mad scramble for dominance, they drove Sinclair away, making themselves strangers in their own legacy.
In the end, it wasn't loyalty that got them disowned. It was their unquenchable greed that led Sinclair to push them out of his company, his life, and this mansion that they had once thought was theirs by birthright.
Now, it stood as a monument to everything they'd lost—a dream crumbling in their hands while they fought for control of an empire that no longer wanted them.
And here I was, caught in the middle of it all.
===
🤍
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Came morning, Victor wasn't playing around when he said he would get me everything I needed to make my stay comfortable.
In fact, he went above and beyond, as if he were preparing for a week-long stay at a luxury resort instead of Sinclair's mansion.
The next morning, I woke to find my room transformed into a high-end boutique, with designer bags and boxes scattered across every available surface.
Victor had clearly gone on a shopping spree that would make any fashionista's heart skip a beat.
Chanel. Prada. Louis Vuitton. Every iconic brand you could think of had somehow found its way into my temporary living space.
A plush, velvet Chanel bathrobe draped over the back of a chair, complete with matching silk slippers embroidered with their signature logo.
Even the toiletries weren't just any store-bought items. Oh no, Victor had spared no expense. The vanity was lined with La Mer skincare products, each bottle glistening as if filled with liquid gold.
And the fragrance? A selection of exclusive perfumes, from the delicate floral notes of Dior's J'adore to the bold and intoxicating allure of Tom Ford's Black Orchid.
But the extravagance didn't stop there.
When I opened the wardrobe, my eyes widened at the sight of a perfectly curated collection of clothes. Gucci blouses, Valentino dresses, and a Balmain leather jacket hung neatly, like they had been placed there by a personal stylist.
Even the casual wear was designer, with off-duty essentials like Alexander Wang hoodies and Balenciaga sneakers lined up neatly on the floor.
And tucked away in a drawer, I found lingerie sets from Agent Provocateur, delicate lace and satin in soft hues of blush and black.
I blinked in disbelief, pulling out a pair of Louboutin slippers—yes, even my feet had to be draped in luxury, apparently.
Victor had thought of everything. He even stocked the bathroom with towels so fluffy they felt like clouds, and a silk eye mask from Hermès, just in case I needed to block out the stresses of the world while lounging in bed.
There was a bottle of Dom Pérignon chilling in a bucket, just casually waiting for me to pop it open, as if this were some kind of private retreat instead of a
hostage
situation.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "This is . . . way too much. I could get use to this . . ."
I shook my head.
No. No. NO!
I couldn't let myself be swayed by something like this—luxury dripping from every corner, the seductive allure of designer brands whispering temptations in my ear. Read latest chapters at empire
I could have this things if I wanted to . . . in the
future
. When all my hard work and investments paid off, when I stood at the top on my own terms.
I wasn't lounging in silk and cashmere because I'd earned it—I was here because I had no other option. Because Sinclair and his ridiculous, stubborn dog refused to let me go.
I was being pampered like some prized doll, as if they could buy my compliance with luxury bathrobes and crystal bottles of expensive perfume . . . Well they could.
I mean, it was only fair—since they insisted on keeping me here, the least they could do was make my stay comfortable.
Victor knocked on the door, and I opened it.
"Good morning, Eve." Victor said smiling, his handsome face fresh and his suit crisp to perfection. He just walked in to check if everything was to my liking, flashed me a charming smile. "How are you liking everything here?"
"This is too much," I told him.
Victor only beamed. "Only the best for you. Sinclair wants you to feel comfortable here."
Comfortable? More like overwhelmed by luxury. I could barely wrap my head around it.
Not that I was complaining—who wouldn't want all of this? Certainly not me, especially when it was all handed over on a silver platter, free of charge.