Chapter 3

Blackwood Mansion wasn't simply a house — it was a labyrinth of stone and silence that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. Ariana walked a step behind Martha, trying to memorize every turn, every somber landscape painting, every solid oak door. Beside her, little Ethan bounced with an energy that clashed with the solemnity of the place.

"The mansion is divided into three main wings," Martha explained, her voice echoing through the vaulted hallway. "The east wing houses the guest and service areas. The west wing, where we are now, contains the family bedrooms and your private suite."

Martha stopped before a set of double doors carved with intricate forest motifs.

"This is Ethan's playroom and study. He'll spend most of his mornings here. He follows an advanced educational program — despite his age, he's already mastering concepts that most human children—" Martha caught herself with a barely perceptible pause. "That is, most normal children don't encounter until seven or eight."

Ariana nodded, filing it away. She'd noticed Martha always seemed to weigh her words, as if guarding a reality Ariana wasn't yet meant to know.

"You're free to roam nearly the entire property," the housekeeper continued, resuming their walk. "The library, winter gardens, and gymnasium are at your disposal when Ethan is resting. However, there is one absolute exception."

They stopped at the farthest end of the west wing. Before them, a wrought-iron spiral staircase wound upward toward a solitary tower. At its base, a dark oak door — reinforced with steel bands and bearing no visible lock — barred the way.

"That is Mr. Alexander's private office and sanctuary," Martha said, and this time there was no trace of warmth in her tone. "Entry is strictly forbidden. Neither Ethan, nor I, and certainly not you, under any circumstances, may cross that threshold. Mr. Blackwood values his privacy above all else. If you ever find that door open by mistake, keep walking. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Martha," Ariana replied, a chill running through her. The door seemed to radiate a physical pressure, a silent warning that made her avert her eyes.

To ease the tension, Martha led her toward the kitchen and laundry area, outlining the tasks specific to Ethan's care.

"Ethan's routine is sacred," Martha said, checking a list in the pantry. "He wakes at six in the morning. His breakfast must be substantial — eggs, lean meat, fruit. No processed sugar. After his lessons, he needs at least two hours outdoors, regardless of the weather. The Blackwoods need contact with nature."

"And his hygiene and rest?" Ariana asked, trying to picture the daily schedule.

"You'll supervise his baths and make sure he's in bed by eight o'clock sharp," Martha said. "He tends to have nightmares and what we call 'growth fevers.' If his temperature spikes or he thrashes in his sleep, don't be alarmed. Just stay by his side and sing something soft. A calm voice usually settles his instincts."

Ethan, who'd been listening in silence, tugged at Ariana's blouse.

"Do you know lullabies?" he asked, his intense eyes fixed on hers.

Ariana crouched down and brushed her fingertips against his cheek. "I know plenty. And if I don't know your favorite, we can make one up together."

For the first time, Martha's smile reached her eyes. "It seems you have the gift, Miss Ariana."

At the end of the tour, they arrived at Ariana's suite. It was a spacious room with classic furniture and an enormous window overlooking the forests that encircled the mansion. Ariana felt a strange sense of peace settle over her. It was the perfect refuge for hiding her secret.

"Alexander will call by video tonight to meet you formally," Martha announced before withdrawing. "Be punctual. He doesn't tolerate lateness, or lies."

Alone at last, Ariana sat on the edge of the bed. Her thoughts drifted to the fertility clinic and the baby that, according to the doctor, would take days to confirm. She knew she had to keep her situation hidden until she was settled and secure in the job. But as she watched the moon begin to rise above the pines, she sensed that in this house — where children had razor-sharp instincts and locked doors guarded Alpha secrets — keeping the truth buried would be her greatest challenge.

Alexander Blackwood's presence saturated every corner, even before his face appeared on a screen. Ariana breathed in deep, catching again that scent of forest and power that permeated the mansion, with no idea that the man she was about to meet was already irrevocably bound to her.