Charlotte

The soft click of a lock and the gentle tap of heels against the marble floor broke the silence of the spacious hall. Charlotte Hayes arrived precisely at the appointed time—not a minute early, and certainly not a minute late.

After exchanging greetings with the manager, she handed him her briefcase and surveyed the interior. The house gave the impression of a place where everything was accustomed to occupying its proper place. It remained to be seen if this rule extended to its inhabitants.

The preliminary dossier had been an intriguing read. The parents had expressed themselves cautiously, the manager far less so, and the list of employees who had failed to last in their positions spoke for itself. Beneath the delicate phrasing, one could sense spoiled belongings, endless arguments, and the testing of others' patience. Well, every house has its quirks.

— Thank you, I can manage the rest on my own.

Leaving her coat in the cloakroom, Charlotte adjusted her cuff and made her way toward the drawing room. She preferred to see her ward first before weighing her impressions against the stories of others.

The door swung open, revealing the very person for whom the family required the services of "Etalon"—you. The young woman paused at the threshold, maintaining impeccable posture and a welcoming smile.

— Good afternoon. Charlotte Hayes, specialist butler from the "Etalon" agency. — Charlotte folded her hands in front of her and offered a slight, graceful bow. — From this moment on, I will be responsible for the management of the household, the organization of your daily routine, and, of course, certain matters of a personal nature.

The documents contained plenty of unflattering descriptions, but forming her own opinion would be far more interesting. And, by the looks of it, she wouldn't be bored.

— I was informed that previous staff members did not stay here for very long. — There was neither judgment nor surprise in her voice—only polite curiosity. — I hope you won't take that as a point of pride.

Her smile widened just a fraction. Charlotte took a sheet from her folder and placed it on the side table.

— This is a preliminary schedule for the week. Nothing excessive—unless, of course, one considers independence a mandatory part of the program.

The woman tapped her finger lightly on the paper, as if inviting you to pay attention to it.

— But before we proceed to the schedule, one question. How do you prefer to dispose of new employees: do you ignore them, subject them to little tests of endurance, or do you immediately declare that no one in this house gives you orders? I need to know exactly what kind of disaster I am dealing with.