"Last call for passengers departing at Forks' station!"

I'm abruptly pulled out of my deep sleep by the loud, blaring voice on the intercom and stumble off my seat — still half asleep in that drowsy in-between state — to quickly grab at my suitcase. Struggling for a few seconds I manage to get it down from the overhead compartment and race through the couple of people that are lingering about in the train's hallway.

"Excuse me! Sorry," I mumble as I bump into a few of them. My legs feel too numb to gracefully avoid them. "Sorry. Sorry! Oomph!"

I trip on my way out and land in a heap on the station platform. A few people turn my way, either smiling in amusement at my clumsiness, or turning away in second-hand embarrassment for me. With a bright red face I gingerly stand up and pat myself down.

Not a great first impression.

As I right myself, and pick up my suitcase, I scan the area for what to do next. My letter said I'd be meeting someone in the station to take me to the manor but how do I find them? After a good minute of standing around doing absolutely nothing I start to head to where the biggest crowd is.

"Excuse me?" I ask one someone who's wearing some type of uniform and looks official. "Do you know if there's a designated pick up zone for new graduates?"

"I don't think so, Ma'am," he responds. "But just outside the station, about three hundred metres that way, is a taxi rank. It's roughly twenty dollars for a ten minute ride."

"Oh. I... I didn't bring any money with me."

"You don't have any money at all?" the uniformed man says with a frown. He scans over me, probably taking in my very cheap clothing and favourite but worn pair of converse shoes. "I can't help you then. Try somewhere else."

I thank him with an uneasy smile and continue to search around the station. As I near the exit, I see a small, pale woman with black hair styled short, who has her head down on a table as though she's taking a short nap in the middle of a busy station.

She's clearly not sleeping as her head is rocking back and forth along the tabletop, and as I get closer I can hear her groaning and mumbling in nonsensical tones. I'm about to leave her to her ramblings when I see what it is she's leaning on, faintly making out the end part of 'lla Swan' on a thick sheet of cardboard.

"Hey!" I exclaim in surprise.

Her head snaps up, her full face of makeup is just slightly running, and there's a streak of inky blackness smeared across her forehead from where she was resting.

I point at the board as I read the rest of it. "That's me. Isabella Swan."

"You're Isabella Swan?" she says, looking me up and down. "No kidding?"

"No kidding. Are you who I'm supposed to meet to get to Mr. Cullen's manor?"

"Yes!" she cries out and jumps up spritely. Her short hair sticks up in various places making it look like she's been electrocuted. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you, holding that sign up with a smile, for over two hours. My jaw is aching something fierce!"

I gesture towards the area where the train just took off while she rubs her jaw. "I only got here a few minutes ago! I was told to arrive at this time. It said so on my letter, I was just following what it said. I'm sorry, I would've come earlier if I'd known."

"Relax. It's no big deal," she says, stretching out with a yawn. "Mistakes happen. I'm Alice by the way. The chef of your new home." She holds out a dainty hand which I shake instantly.

"Hi, Alice. I'm Isabella, as you know already," I ramble. "You can call me Bella. By the way, you have a bit of black on your forehead."

She rubs fiercely at her head. It doesn't budge. "All gone?"

As I shake my head she shrugs her shoulders. "Oh well. I'll just have to make it a fashion statement. Follow me!"

"So, you're the house chef as well as the chauffeur?" I pick up my suitcase and follow her out of the train station and towards her very expensive looking car. It's a sports model of some type, wide and low to the ground.

"There's no real need for a chauffeur as hardly anybody comes and goes, but I frequently need to go to the marketplace for recipe ingredients. The amount of food I need to cook to feed everyone is disgusting, and I'm possibly the only one in the house trustworthy enough to use the car to go buy everything and so here I am."

Alice helps me lug my heavy suitcase up into the back of the fancy car and opens the front door for me to slide in. The black leather seats let my body sink right into their firmly cushioned depths. The car has so many screens and buttons that I don't attempt to figure out what they're all for but it's clear that this car must cost as much as Charlie's entire house.

"Where exactly is the manor?" I ask Alice after she slides in and buckles up.

She revs up the engine, which purrs magnificently and simply lets it sit, thrumming underneath us softly for a few seconds. "Sorry, Bella, I can't say."

"You can't say?"

"I'm under a confidentiality agreement to not disclose the exact location but trust me, the minute we're there you'll know it. It won't take very long."

"A confidentiality agreement just for its location? That doesn't sound promising. I don't have to put on a blindfold so I don't know where we're going, do I?"

"No no," she laughs lightly. "Nothing like that. Don't be nervous, this is just how standard government contracts work. I've signed off on so many of them it's hard to keep track but they're all the same."

If anything, her words of encouragement make me that much more nervous. Government contracts? "I hope this doesn't sound rude, but why would a chef need to sign so many contracts?"

"I do have a life outside of work, you know."

My face burns and I stammer out an apology.

"I'm teasing you," she laughs again. Her laugh is light and airy, like bell chimes that whistle during summer. "You're cute. Tell you what, I'll tell you all about my contracts tomorrow night over dinner after you've settled in."

"Great. I don't have to pay for dinner, do I? I didn't bring any money with me."

Giving me a quick glance she half smiles. "You'll definitely be paying for your dinner through your work, but no. You generally won't need any money for things in the... the house. Food, blankets, off the clock entertainment like TV, and most necessities are all paid by default and then there's your very small allowance which won't be much but after a while you'll be able to buy small fun things. I usually get makeup and clothes.."

When I nod, she turns up the music — some type of electronic house music that I'll never be able to get into because of my sensitive hearing — and blasts the air conditioner. I settle back into the plush leather and let the rhythm of the road and the pulsing techno music calm my nerves as I take in the scenery.

Forks in comparison to my old hometown is a lot more modern. The buildings stand extremely tall with reflective windows and skyscrapers. People walk down both sides of the streets in suits and pencil skirts, all talking away or messaging on their phones. There's not a tree in sight that hasn't been planted for aesthetic appeal nor is there a patch of dirt anywhere. There's also no rubbish at all.

Likely it's all completely artificial but the feeling isn't entirely unwelcoming.

"I thought this place would be dirty," I say distractedly. "It's so clean and sterile here."

"You're a small-town country girl, aren't you?"

"Suburban."

"Same thing," Alice says with a smile. "This is how a city is supposed to be when there's no children or animals roaming around to make a mess."

My gaze wanders to the skies and apart from a few sparse clouds there's no sign of wildlife. "The children part I understand because we're in the business sector but there are no animals either? Not even birds or stray dogs?"

Alice clears her throat and rubs her neck uncomfortable with one hand, her other tightening on the wheel. "That's right, journalists were banned from reporting on it."

I wait but she doesn't elaborate quickly enough for my curiosity. "From reporting on what?"

"Do you remember a few years ago when all the Feras died in the Hunt except for that one guy who was an ant? And he burrowed under a thin layer of dirt so the Hunters were confused with what their radars were showing and by the time they worked it out the guy had found the finish line and was accepting his new military uniform already?"

"No, I don't watch the Hunt."

She raises one thin eyebrow and gives me a long side glance. "You don't have the stomach for it, hey? I don't either. I'm pretty blood-phobic. Ant guy got the public thinking about how easily it would be for a shifter to remain undetected. Usually we only hear about the interesting ones: the dinosaurs or mythological creatures or massive animals like elephants and rhinos. But no-one previously thought about what a man who could turn into an ant or a stray cat could do. Maybe that harmless fly listening in on an important meeting was really a secret spy from another country."

"I thought that was the whole point," I mumble.

Alice just shrugs. "They worked themselves up over the idea, and a few days later they started shooting down the birds, spraying any bugs they saw, and killing strays. It only lasted a few hours but the damage was massive. I haven't seen any come back here since."

"That sounds horrific. I think I'd rather live with the flies who may or may not be spies."

"I think I would too."

We drive in a comfortable silence. Before not too long the scenery of businesses, tall buildings, and sterile urban streets are replaced with a more familiar clusters of tall trees and rocky dirt paths. The trees that shoot up into the sky remind me so strongly of back home that for a split second I get an unfamiliar pang of homesickness.

"Almost there," Alice says cheerfully.

We deviate from the rocky dirt path onto a completely unmarked path and there's absolutely no houses, buildings, or residences in sight now. There are trees and forestry around us but unlike normal trees, these ones look very artificial the more I take notice of them – too perfect – and purposely placed. These trees haven't been growing here naturally.

Is nothing in this city natural?

Somebody has designed this fake forest with care but didn't bother to make it look very inviting. In fact, the further we drive in the more I distinctly get the impression that the designer wanted people to stay away from this place. It's the sort of dark forest that fairy tale witches live in to lure in unsuspecting children. The dense, dark thicket of the trees feel ominous as they block out the little light from the Sun that shines down.

"Creepy," I whisper. My hand finds the door handle and I loosely grip it. Just in case.

"It's even worse at night."

Eventually the trees becomes a little sparser, thinning out just a little, and the unmarked path becomes smooth concrete. While it still doesn't look very inviting, the Sun is able to shine down here and there to give the fake forest the slightest hint of life and warmth through the canopy.

I breathe a tremendous sigh of relief when I see a mansion in the distance and relax my hands from the handle. Okay, Edward Cullen is simply a recluse living in a forest. No problem. I'm a recluse as well, maybe we'll hit it off.

"Here we are," Alice says as we pull up to a very large, modern gate complete with cameras and monitors. The gate extends to the left and right as far as my eyes can see. A symbolic barrier between my old life and my new one. "Welcome home."

"Looks cozy."

An old woman's face appears on one of the monitors, haggard and worn, but I pay no attention to her or Alice as they start talking. I'm in far too much awe of the mansion that lays beyond the gates.

Mansion itself is too soft of a word to use for this monstrosity. It's far from a manor — it's a castle. It looms far in the distance but I can still see it's made of large slabs of stone so completely different to the bricks and wood that make up regular houses. Its ancient design, with the pointed roof tips and several lookout towers, with what kind of looks like guards walking around up top, makes me think it has to be several hundred years old at the least.

This is what I'm to help clean? It will take me a week just to move from one side of it to the other, let alone scrub its floors and its thousands of windows. Mr. Cullen must employ hundreds of staff at the very least to keep it running.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" Alice says as the gate opens up.

"That's one way to put it." It gets more intimidating as we drive forward. "This all belongs to one man? What on Earth does he need so much space for?"

"He doesn't need this much space, really. Even for what he does it's too much. We all like to joke that he's just compensating." She gives me a sly wink.

"Compensating? For what?" I ask in confusion.

Oh. It hits me a second too late and I flush in embarrassment.

"I'll say it again, you're cute," she says with a small laugh. "You'll fit right in. Anyone gives you trouble you send them right to me." She tries to flex her tiny muscles with one arm.

"Thank you," I tell her sincerely. So far one hundred percent of the people I've met that I'll be working with don't hate me. It's a good start. "Do you think there'll be much trouble?"

We make it to the front of the manor-slash-castle and she cuts off the engine before turning to fully face me. "Absolutely not. I was kidding. You have nothing to fear in here so long as you obey the rules. That's very important, okay? Follow the rules and you'll be fine."

"Follow the rules. Got it."

"I'm serious, Bella. Don't follow them to the best you can, follow them to the letter. What Edward — the Master, Lord, and Overseer — lacks in patience he makes up for in temper."

"The Master? Lord? You mean Mr. Cullen? Do I have to call him that?" I ask, barely containing a shudder. The word fits the old-timely feel of the place but the doe in me is kicking up a storm at the thought of calling any human her master. I shove her back down into that unknown place she resides in.

"Probably. He enjoys it," Alice shrugs.

She unlocks the car doors and I gingerly hop out, peeling my sticky top off the leather that it's stuck to.

Now that I'm right in front of the place, I can see the grime coating the windows and the stray vines crawling up the cracks in the stone. There's no garden or grass around the front surrounding the driveway, just dirt and gravel. Craning my head upwards it's obvious the top section is in even worse shape.

This place definitely needs some upkeep. I have my work cut out for me.

"I've got your bag," Alice calls out. "You go ahead and ring the doorbell."

Facing the door it's clear even that is going to be a struggle. There are so many gadgets on the thing I'm a little afraid to even try.

I give the most round and pressable one a hit and instantly the door swings inwards and a man's tall body fills my vision.

"Who are you?" he demands, his eyes narrowing.

A man that handsome with his tall, slim build and perfectly sculptured face bordering on feminine shouldn't be so intimidating and yet here I am, more nervous than I've ever been just at the sound of his voice. His presence is dominating and more than a little scary.

My baser instincts knows the difference between dominance in a male that's protective and safe, and dominance that's cruel and brutish. Whatever this man is, all of those instincts are screaming that he's not the safe kind and they've never steered me wrong before.

I try to point to Alice to show I'm not alone. "My name's Isabella Swan. I'm the new domestic assistant? I'm here to see Mr. Cullen?" It comes out as a question.

"Do you have identification?"

"Uhm," I pat down my shirt and then my pants, pulling out a worn laminated card. "Just an old school ID, if that's—"

He snatches the card out of my hand without a word and peers down. Then his narrowed, dark eyes give my body a once over and his mouth twists into a leer that completely ruins his good looks. "You were expected hours ago."

There's an awkward pause and it takes all my willpower not to shuffle. "Yes, I think there was a mix up about train times in my letter. It said—"

He holds his hand up to stop me and gestures behind him with his head. "You're pretty enough, I suppose. Well, get in here then. There's work to do. I'm not going to feed you if you can't pull your weight."

Work already? There's always the customary one-week adjustment period for students who had to travel away from home. Considering we'll be here for the majority of our lives I think they could at least give us that week to settle in.

"Okay," I say meekly as he gives me enough room to maneuver inside.

What a mind trip. While the outside is dirty, grimy, and has the look of a medieval castle the inside is absolutely clean and modern. A few people are rushing around carrying equipment and the faint hum of electricity covers the area from hanging wires. High above on the ceiling are several surveillance cameras that constantly move and the few doors I can see from here, connected to the foyer, are made from a type of metal or steel.

"My name is Edward Cullen but if you need to address me you will call me Master, because this is what I am to you. Do you understand?" Edward asks, closing the door with a thud behind me.

This is Edward Cullen? I cover my gasp with a fake smile. He's much younger than I thought he'd be. Late twenties would be my guess, and I'd also guess that he's inherited this place from his parents.

I nod quickly. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Um, yes, M-Master?" Bile crawls up my throat at his look of triumph.

"Better. Now, do you have a preferred name, Isabella?"

"Oh, yes. Most people call me Bella so I'd prefer that, please."

He reaches forward to run a long, cold finger through the bottom of my loose curls. "Yes, I remember your profile now, Isabella. It claimed you were obedient to authority, that you were able to take orders well. Is this true?"

Silently nodding I'm able to get my hair free by pretending to look around. He may be surprisingly handsome and obviously rich, but his touch sends shivers of disgust through me and my doe wants to break free in terror at his nearness.

"Good. Follow me." He strides forward to begin climbing the marble staircase directly in front of us at a fast pace. It's beautiful but quickly loses its charm halfway up. I'm too unfit for this many stairs.

"Your profile also mentioned specifically that you weren't very bright. A bit of a dunce," Edward continues, not at all out of breath. "Is this also true?"

I try not to grit my teeth in anger as I huff out, "I never made good grades, sir."

He stops suddenly on a step to face me and I grab at the rail to balance myself.

"Not minutes here and already you test my limits, girl. It said you were docile, especially to authority and I'm the authority here."

I don't say anything, too bewildered to speak. What does he want from me? My silence must anger him because the next second he grabs my jaw hard enough to bruise. I dig my fingernails into the railing in order not to take a step back and break my neck.

"I'm not sir," he hisses low. "Say it."

Taking a not-so-wild guess I'm able to whimper out a pathetic, "Master?"

He lets go of me and continues his ascent up as if nothing happened. I look back at a few of the other staff who gathered to watch the new girl get put in her place. They give a weary smile before scurrying off. Apparently this mustn't be too uncommon.

It takes several seconds before I'm able to catch my breath enough to follow him up, rubbing my jaw as I go.

You can do this, I tell myself. He's simply a textbook narcissist — that much is clear. Just call him Master, kiss his arse, and everything will be fine. Follow the rules and you'll be fine. Follow the rules.

The first floor of the mansion is decorated much like the ground level. Lots of wires, a bit of electric humming, steel doors and steel cameras. It's also impeccably clean. For a moment I let myself hope that I'm not even needed here, that Edward will realise there's more than enough people to clean his precious manor and I'll be sent home and reassigned to a new position. But hope is a dangerous thing though and I push down the thought of leaving.

We walk in relative silence with only the sound of background noise and shoes clicking between us. I keep my head low and posture submissive, just in case he turns around wanting to display some more aggressive behaviour. I'm so tired of humans and their aggression.

When we stop he leads me into a study-like area. Beautifully decorated with wood, pine, and antique furniture the room is a far cry from the modernized sections outside. There's also not a single security camera in here. It feels more like some remote cabin out in the middle of nowhere free from all the technologies of the outside world.

Suddenly I'm very nervous. Why would such a man bring a new working girl into a camera-less room?

I try to take a step back but can feel him hovering right behind me. "Move forward."

With an intimate hand on my lower back Edward pushes me forward towards his desk as he moves around it to the other side. Clicking open one of the drawers he pulls out a stack of paper and drops it. It hits the wood with a loud bang, not bouncing at all because of the sheer weight from it.

"Sign the first page and the last page," Edward orders, holding out a fancy calligraphy pen. "Then I'll take you on a tour of where you'll be working and living. Nothing happens until your name's on this."

I pick up the stack of paper. God, it's massive; I can barely hold it up. Thumbing through the pages quickly nothing seems to stick out on what it's about. It's full of technical jargon and rights and henceforths and herebys.

"Can I take this with me to read before I sign it?" I ask, knowing immediately doing so is a mistake. "I can't sign something without knowing what it's about first."

His teeth grind together. "It's a standard confidentiality clause stating you won't go around talking your mouth off about things you see or hear in here."

"Why would you need this? What could a maid mouth off about?"

"Anything and everything if she's a snoop. Sign it."

I flip through as much as I can, absorbing all the information possible in case he decides to pull it away and fake my signature anyway. Opening it to another random page in the middle something catches my eye that makes me gasp.

Homo feras. Enclosures. Control.

"What's this about?" I whisper, leaning so close to read it that my long hair skims the table. "Feras? Why are those… those animals mentioned in a confidentiality clause?"

Sweat beads my forehead as the possibilities of it starts to become a reality. No, no, no. Does this man work for the FC? Does he control the organisation? A castle-mansion like this doesn't come cheap. Does he finance the Hunts?

"Sign it," Edward repeats harshly through clenched teeth, forcing the pen in my shaking grip and closing my fingers around it tight. He presses my head down closer to the paper until my nose almost touches it. "Then we'll play nice and talk."

"Please, I'll sign it, I just want to read it first. I need to understand."

He pushes my head down and back up in jerking motions, keeping pressure of my neck, almost like he's trying to shake sense into me.

This is illegal! I want to scream. Abusive coercion. Manipulative tactics. Human bastard.

"The help doesn't get the luxury of understanding anything."

His unrelenting grip tightens and I cry out in pain.

"Sign it."

I obey, shakily signing my name away on the dotted lines.