"So let me get this straight," Hazel mumbled as she stared at the absurdly long breakfast table. "I'm a billionaire's wife with a closet bigger than my personality… and I don't even know how to eat breakfast here without getting lost?"
The maid coughed politely beside her.
"Madam, should we serve the grapefruit and salmon as usual?"
Hazel blinked. "Salmon… for breakfast?"
"Yes, madam."
"Like… actual fish? At eight in the morning?"
"Yes."
"…Do I at least get toast?"
A silent nod. Then a footman placed a single slice of multigrain toast on a gold-edged porcelain plate.
Hazel stared at it like it had personally insulted her.
"You know what?" She stood up, dramatically tossing her napkin aside. "I want dumplings."
The maid paused. "I—pardon?"
"Chinese dumplings. Jiaozi. Or you know what? Instant noodles. Do we have that?"
The maid paled. "Instant…?"
Hazel marched to the kitchen.
Which turned out to be three times bigger than her old apartment.
She gasped at the shiny marble counters and eight-burner stove like a caveman discovering fire.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "This isn't a kitchen. This is a spaceship."
The head butler appeared, looking deeply concerned. "Mrs. Blake, shall I call the chef?"
"I am the chef," Hazel declared, opening drawers. "Where's the soy sauce?"
The butler blinked. "Soy…?"
Ten minutes later, Hazel was crouched by the stove, boiling water in a pot she found after opening seven cabinets. Her sleeves were rolled up. Her hair was in a messy bun. Her pajama shirt was stained with flour from her failed attempt at making dough.
Just as she was humming a silly orphanage song from her childhood, someone cleared their throat behind her.
She turned.
A man in a fitted navy suit stood at the doorway. Sharp jawline. Leather briefcase. Face like a drama second male lead.
"Who are you?" Hazel asked with a noodle in one hand.
"Lucas Wang. Your… assistant."
"Oh. Cool. Want noodles?"
Lucas blinked.
Was this some kind of test?
He pulled out his phone and secretly texted Adrian:
Something's wrong. She's smiling. She offered me noodles. I think she hit her head.
⸻
By noon, the entire mansion staff was whispering.
The heiress was smiling.
She said thank you.
She said "excuse me" when she bumped into a potted plant.
The old Erin used to threaten to fire people for breathing too loudly. The new Erin asked if the driver was drinking enough water.
At 2 PM, Hazel announced she wanted to "go explore the outside world like Mulan breaking out of her fortress."
Lucas: "Do you mean… run errands?"
Hazel: "Yes. But cooler."
⸻
Thirty minutes later, she was in the back of a black Rolls-Royce, staring out the window with sparkly eyes.
"This city is beautiful," she whispered.
Lucas looked at her in the rearview mirror. "You've lived here for eight years."
"Details."
They stopped by a boutique.
Hazel skipped through the door like a kindergarten kid on field day. She admired every purse, touched every fuzzy coat, and—at one point—tried to hug a mannequin.
The shop assistant watched, frozen. This was the same Mrs. Blake who once made another manager cry over a mispriced bracelet?
Hazel turned to her and beamed. "Do you have anything pink, fluffy, and utterly useless?"
The assistant nodded. "I—I'll see what I can find."
⸻
Back at the mansion, Adrian stood by the window as the car returned.
He watched her get out, arms full of pastel shopping bags, giggling as she showed a random security guard a stuffed alpaca she bought for no reason.
Lucas walked up behind him and whispered, "She offered me pickled cabbage at lunch."
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
"She also called me her 'assistant buddy.'"
Another pause.
"…She's not yelling anymore," Lucas added quietly. "She's not angry. She's not… miserable."
Adrian didn't respond.
But his eyes, just for a second, softened.
⸻
Meanwhile, Hazel plopped onto the mansion couch and held up her new diary.
"I'm gonna do it," she said, grinning to herself. "I'm going to turn this heiress life into a sitcom. If the universe threw me into a billionaire drama, I'll rewrite it into a comedy. And maybe…"
She glanced up toward the second floor—where Adrian's study was.
"Maybe I'll turn this cold, silent CEO into my favorite supporting character."