**Chapter 6: A Bird Easy to Feed** The air in the grand foyer of the Mamet Villa was thick with a tension that could be cut with a blade. The servants stood huddled together, their eyes darting between the icy Housekeeper Bronte and the mysterious woman who had just arrived. "Housekeeper Bronte, please understand..." one servant whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s not that we’re being careless. It’s just that... Mr. Mamet brought her here himself. He told us she is the new Madam." "Madam?" Lynne Bronte’s laugh was a jagged shard of glass. She looked Xaviera Evans up and down with a sneer that dripped with vitriol. "Her? Look at her. Does she look like a Madam to you, or something the cat dragged in from the gutter? I am the head of this household, and I order you to throw this woman out immediately!" Three years ago, a deranged intruder had breached the villa’s walls, nearly reaching Caleb Mamet. Since then, the estate had been transformed into a fortress. To Lynne, the idea of an outsider simply walking in was an insult to the walls she guarded. Xaviera, however, remained unfazed. She leaned against the cold marble of the kitchen island, her expression unreadable. "If I’m not mistaken," Xaviera began, her voice calm and melodic, yet carrying an edge of steel, "this villa is protected by a third-generation Skynet security system. Its protocols are comparable to the Pentagon’s. You all have facial recognition access, but none of you—not even the high-and-mighty Housekeeper—have the authority to grant entry to a stranger." She paused, pouring herself a glass of water, the soft clinking of glass against the pitcher the only sound in the room. "The Skynet system has only one ultimate control port," Xaviera continued, taking a slow sip. "Which means no one enters this house unless Caleb Mamet allows it. I can sense your hostility, Housekeeper. It’s quite loud. And quite pathetic." Lynne’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. "You little—" "You’ve enjoyed being the queen of this castle for too long," Xaviera interrupted, her eyes narrowing as she dissected the older woman’s psyche. "The way you stand, the way you bark at the servants... you’ve mistaken Caleb’s indifference for your own power. You decide which flowers sit in the vases, which scents linger in the halls, what’s served for dinner. You love the feeling of being the 'de facto' Madam. And the moment I walked through that door, you felt your little empire crumbling. Am I right?" The silence that followed was deafening. The villa, usually so sterile and perfect, suddenly felt like a stage where the props were being moved. Xaviera had seen through the deliberate decor—the way every room felt like a curated display of someone else’s obsession. "You articulate little brat!" Lynne screamed, her professional facade shattering. "I’ll tear that smug look off your face!" Lynne lunged. Her manicured nails, sharpened like talons, swung toward Xaviera’s cheek. The servants gasped, some closing their eyes to avoid the sight of the blood. But Xaviera didn't flinch. In a blur of motion that no one in the room could quite follow, she shifted. A muffled groan echoed through the air. By the time the servants blinked, the scene had changed. Lynne was no longer attacking; she was pinned. Xaviera had twisted the woman’s arm behind her back with surgical precision, forcing her down until her knees hit the floor with a painful thud. Xaviera held her there with a single hand, her face a mask of boredom. "Rule number one," she whispered into Lynne’s ear. "Never aim for the face. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" A low, dark chuckle drifted down from the second-floor gallery. "Rumor had it that Miss Evans was a delicate flower," Caleb Mamet said, leaning over the railing, his dark eyes sparkling with a dangerous amusement. "A girl so frail a stiff breeze could knock her over. It seems the rumors were quite wrong." Xaviera looked up, her gaze locking onto his. "As you said, Mr. Mamet, they were only rumors." "Mr. Mamet! Please!" Lynne shrieked, her voice cracking. "Save me! This woman is a monster!" Caleb didn't move. He didn't even look at Lynne with pity. "Save you? I’m afraid I can’t do that, Lynne." His message was clear: a housekeeper, no matter how long she had served, was nothing compared to the woman who held a marriage certificate with his name on it. With a casual wave of his hand, he signaled the security guards. "Take her away." As Lynne was dragged out, her screams fading into the distance, the villa fell into a heavy, expectant silence. Caleb descended the stairs, his presence filling the room. He glanced at the water glass in Xaviera’s hand. "What brought you down from your room?" "I’m hungry," Xaviera replied simply. Then, her gaze dropped to his lips, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face. "Do you want a kiss?" The question was blunt, devoid of the usual shyness or flirtation one would expect. It was a clinical inquiry, yet it hit the room like a thunderclap. The younger maids turned bright red, staring at their shoes, while the air between Caleb and Xaviera practically hummed with electricity. Caleb stared at her for a long beat, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his handsome features. "Don't be in such a rush, Xaviera. We have plenty of time for that." Xaviera didn't blush. She didn't shy away. She merely checked the clock on the wall. Caleb turned to the kitchen staff, his voice regaining its commanding tone. "Prepare dinner. Do you have any dietary restrictions, Madam?" Xaviera shook her head. To her, everything tasted like ash and bitterness lately; she had no preferences left. "None." Caleb nodded, a flicker of something—perhaps intrigue—passing through his eyes. "Good. At least you’re easy to raise."