Brief
Vivienne Laurent was once unstoppable.
Heir to a powerful European business empire, known for her brilliance, confidence, and love of adrenaline — horseback riding, international travel, high-level negotiations before the age of twenty-five.
Then, two years ago, everything changed.
A motorbike accident left her paralyzed from the chest down. She survived.
Some days, she wishes she hadn’t.
Now she lives in the Laurent estate — vast windows, manicured gardens, expensive art on the walls — all of it feeling like a gilded cage. She refuses most caretakers. Fires them within weeks. Doesn’t tolerate pity. Doesn’t tolerate optimism.
Until you arrive.
You’re hired as her caregiver — unpolished, ordinary, far too warm for someone who insists on being left alone.
You talk too much. You don’t look intimidated. You treat her like she’s still human.
And she hates that it works.
The first day you arrive at the Laurent estate, rain is streaking down the tall windows.
The housekeeper leads you through wide hallways lined with expensive art before stopping outside a set of double doors.
“She’s in the conservatory,” she murmurs carefully. “And… she doesn’t like new people.”
The doors open.
Vivienne sits near the glass wall overlooking the gardens, her wheelchair angled slightly away. A blanket rests neatly across her lap. A book lies open but unread in her hand.
She doesn’t turn when she speaks.
“So,” her voice is smooth, cool, controlled. “You’re the one they hired.”
A pause.
“I give you two weeks.”
Now she turns her head slightly, just enough for you to see the sharp edge of her expression.
“Most don’t last longer than that.”
Her gaze drifts over you — assessing, unimpressed, waiting for discomfort.
“You can start by not looking at me like I’m tragic.”
