The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 164 - One Hundred and Sixty-Four

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Four

Alicia’s POV

I woke up to an empty apartment. The morning light came through the curtains in thin strips, and for a moment I just lay there, listening to the silence.

Something felt off.

I got up and checked the living room. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. Sophie’s room.

Her bed was made. Her bag was gone.

I found a note on the kitchen counter, her handwriting messy like always.

"Went to explore the city. Don’t worry. I’ll be back later. - S"

I stared at the note for a long time. She was seventeen. Old enough to take care of herself, technically. But we were in a foreign country, hiding from people who would hurt us if they found us, and she’d just decided to go exploring.

I wanted to be angry. Wanted to call her and tell her to come back immediately. But my phone buzzed with a text before I could.

The car would be here in thirty minutes.

Right. The job. My first day. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I looked at the note again, then folded it and put it in my pocket. I’d deal with Sophie later.

Cassie emerged from her room, still in her pajamas. "Morning. You okay?"

"Sophie left."

"Left?"

"To explore. She left a note."

Cassie frowned. "Should we go look for her?"

"She’s almost eighteen. I can’t keep her locked up." I said it more to convince myself than Cassie. "I have to go. The car’s coming soon."

"Are you going to eat something first?"

The thought of food made my stomach turn. The nausea had been getting worse every morning. I shook my head.

"I’m fine."

"Alicia—"

"I’m fine," I repeated. "I’ll eat later."

I went back to my room and changed into the clothes I’d bought yesterday. Simple. Plain. The kind of thing a housemaid would wear. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back.

Three weeks ago I was Alicia Blackwood. Now I was just Alicia. No last name. No identity. Just a woman trying to survive.

The car arrived exactly on time. Black. Expensive. The kind of vehicle that drew attention even when it was trying not to. The driver didn’t say much, just confirmed my name and opened the door.

We drove for about thirty minutes, leaving the city behind. The roads got quieter. The buildings got sparser. We passed vineyards and olive groves, the landscape rolling and green under the morning sun.

The estate appeared suddenly, hidden behind tall iron gates that opened automatically as we approached. The driveway was long, lined with cypress trees, and at the end of it sat a house that was too big to be called a house. It was a villa. Maybe a mansion.

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t what I’d expected.

The driver stopped in front of the main entrance and came around to open my door. I got out slowly, looking up at the building. Three stories. Maybe more. Windows everywhere. The kind of place that required an army of staff just to maintain.

"Miss Alicia."

I turned. The man from yesterday stood in the doorway. Same expensive clothes. Same careful smile. He looked different in the daylight. Younger than I’d thought. Maybe early forties.

"Welcome," he said. "Come in."

I followed him inside. The entrance hall was massive. Marble floors. High ceilings. A chandelier that probably cost more than everything I’d ever owned.

"The house is empty right now," he said, walking ahead of me. "Most of the staff have gone to work or school. It’s just us."

"Work or school?"

"Some of the staff have children. They live on the property. There’s a separate building for them."

He showed me through the main floor. The kitchen was huge, all stainless steel and marble countertops. The dining room could seat twenty people easily. The living areas were filled with furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum.

"This is where you’ll spend most of your time," he said, gesturing to the kitchen. "Cooking, cleaning, general upkeep. There’s a schedule I’ll give you. Most days you’ll work from eight in the morning until six in the evening. You’ll have Sundays off."

I nodded, trying to process everything.

He led me upstairs. Showed me the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the library. Everything was pristine. Perfect. Like no one actually lived here.

"And this," he said, opening a door at the end of the hall, "is your room."

It was small compared to the rest of the house, but it was bigger than any room I’d had in the past week. A bed. A dresser. A small desk by the window. Simple but clean.

"The bathroom is shared with one other staff member, but she’s rarely here. You’ll have it mostly to yourself."

"Thank you."

He stood in the doorway, watching me. There was something in his expression I couldn’t read. Not quite kindness. Not quite concern. Something softer.

"You can put your things down. Take a moment to settle in. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready."

He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sat on the bed and looked around. This was it. This was where I’d be living. Working. Hiding.

It felt surreal. Like I’d stepped into someone else’s life.

I went downstairs after a few minutes. Found him in the kitchen, making coffee.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

"No, thank you."

He poured himself a cup and leaned against the counter. "I should probably introduce myself properly. My name is Alessandro. I manage the estate."

"You’re not the owner?"

"No. The owner is away frequently. I handle things in his absence."

"And the family?"

"There is no family. Just the owner. He prefers his privacy."

That explained the emptiness. The quiet.

"You did very well yesterday," Alessandro said suddenly. "At the interview."

"I didn’t do anything. You barely asked me any questions."

"Sometimes you don’t need questions. Sometimes you can tell everything you need to know just by looking at someone."

I didn’t know what to say to that.

He set down his coffee and walked closer. Not too close. Just enough that I had to look up to meet his eyes.

"You seem tired," he said. "Are you sleeping well?"

"Well enough."

"And eating? You look pale."

"I’m fine."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "If you need anything, you can tell me. This job can be demanding, but I don’t expect you to work yourself to exhaustion."

There was something gentle in his voice. Something almost protective. It reminded me of how my father used to talk to me when I was younger, before everything fell apart.

"I appreciate that."

"Good." He stepped back, putting distance between us again. "Now, let me show you the storage rooms. You’ll need to know where everything is kept."

He led me through the rest of the house, pointing out closets and pantries and utility rooms. He explained the cleaning schedule, the grocery deliveries, the maintenance routines. It was a lot of information, but he was patient. Repeated things when I asked. Made sure I understood.

We ended up back in the kitchen.

"You’ll start tomorrow," he said. "Today is just for orientation. For getting comfortable."

"I can start today if you need me to."

"No need to rush. Take the day. Explore the grounds if you want. There’s a garden out back. Very peaceful."

He walked me to the door. Paused before opening it.

"Alicia," he said, and the way he said my name made me look at him. "I’m glad you’re here. I think you’ll do well."

"Thank you."

"And if you ever need to talk. About anything. I’m a good listener."

I didn’t know why he was being so kind. Didn’t know what he saw in me that made him want to help. But I nodded anyway.

"I’ll remember that."

He opened the door and the driver was already waiting by the car, ready to take me back to the apartment.

I got in and watched the estate disappear behind the gates. Watched the trees and vineyards blur past the window.

Something about this felt wrong. Not dangerous exactly. Just wrong. Like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

But I needed this job. Needed the money and the safety it provided.

So I’d ignore the feeling. Push it down. Pretend everything was fine.

Just like I always did.