Chapter 11

After delivering the drinks, Tara got into the elevator, pushed the serving cart downstairs, and returned it next to the kitchen. Leah came over and handed her a set of keys. "It's your turn to clean the art studio tomorrow." Tara glanced at the keys in Leah's hand. She remembered such a thing in the story, so she took them. She said, "Alright." Tara didn't notice the unease hidden in Leah's expression as the latter turned to leave. … The next morning, Tara woke just as the sky began to brighten. After getting ready, she headed to the kitchen for breakfast. However, she was too early. The chef had just arrived and asked her to return a bit later for her meal. So Tara decided to tidy up the studio first. She could eat after that. The art studio wasn't too far from the villa. It was a standalone sunroom. Aside from the occasional visit from the boy band members who would go there to sketch or paint, hardly anyone went there. Initially, the daytime cleaning staff handled the place. But after a few incidents in which they carelessly ruined some of the men's paintings, Terence forbade them from entering the art studio. More meticulous housekeepers were assigned to maintain the art studio. The place wasn't big, so cleaning it didn't take much effort. The sunroom sat nestled among flowers and greenery. It looked like something out of a beautiful oil painting. Tara opened the door and stepped inside. It wasn't particularly dirty or messy, and some art pieces were covered with cloth. The sunroom was larger than she expected. There were plants taller than she was, and her view was limited when she surveyed the area. She could only see part of the space. Tara didn't wander around. She found the broom and mop and first cleaned the floor, ensuring that the entire sunroom was spotless. There was a small terrace in the sunroom, accessible by stairs. When she noticed it, she was at the far end of the room. She didn't feel like walking over just yet, so she thought that she would deal with it later. She filled a bucket with clean water, brought it along with the mop, and began wiping down the painting frames. By the time she finished all the frames, she was right beneath the terrace. Tara dropped the cloth into the bucket, grabbed the mop, and headed upstairs. She climbed the stairs to the terrace. The view before her was stunning, but it was nothing compared to the figure standing there. It left her in shock. "Mr… Mr. Swain?" she gasped. Lance turned toward her with the rising sun behind him. She was dressed in her uniform, which hugged her slender, alluring figure. Panting softly, her full chest rose and fell slightly. It was hard for Lance to look away. Her lively eyes were filled with surprise, her lips slightly parted. For a split second, Lance had the urge to sketch her, but memories of her past behavior made him push the thought away. He figured that it was better not to invite unnecessary trouble. "Yeah." His demeanor was as indifferent as ever. Tara was surprised that he was actually up this early to paint. But he had his art, and she had her mop. She sighed inwardly and thought, "Such is life." It was time she accepted her own mediocrity. When she was almost done mopping the terrace, she passed behind Lance and snuck a glance at his canvas. He was painting the sunrise, and the quality of his work was exhibition-worthy. It was no wonder he was up so early. He had wanted to capture the sun coming up. Just as she was about to head back down, she heard a muffled thud and a louder clack from below. Tara suddenly recalled a latch outside the door when she first entered the sunroom. She thought the noise from earlier sounded like someone had locked the door from the outside. Tara felt a foreboding sense of unease rising within her. She placed the mop back into the bucket and quickly headed down the terrace, making her way to the sunroom door. The door was indeed closed. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the doorknob and turned it. She could clearly see that the lock could be unlocked, but the latch on the outside had been hooked. No matter how hard she tried, the door wouldn't budge. Then, Tara recalled Leah's subtly strange expression when the latter handed her the keys. It turned out that this was what was in store for her… She didn't have time to be angry. She pulled out her phone to call Terence or another housekeeper, but as soon as she dialed, she learned that there was no signal. Tara was at a loss for words. It was no wonder someone wanted to lock her in here. At that moment, Leah, who had just done something wrong, felt anxious. She saw Stella crying the day before and asked what was wrong. Stella refused to say anything but looked even more aggrieved when she saw Tara passing by. Leah recalled the moment when Lance held an umbrella for Stella. Usually, Lance treated Stella differently. And the thought that Stella might manage to get close to him one day crossed Leah's mind. She figured that if she befriended Stella now, the benefits she could reap in the future would be significant. So she told Stella about the plan to lock Tara in the sunroom. Stella disagreed, but Leah could tell from Stella's hesitation that she really disliked Tara. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was around in the morning, the plan succeeded. Leah, though uneasy, figured that if she could get on Lance's future wife's good side, it would be worth it. However, unbeknownst to Leah and Stella, Tara wasn't the only one locked in the sunroom—Lance was too. Inside the sunroom, Tara was still thinking of a way she could escape. She wondered why such a large space couldn't even have a single window. She also couldn't understand why there was a latch on the outside. Shouldn't it be installed inside? Tara was at a loss for words. She didn't know what she could do now. Her phone had no signal. Was she supposed to jump down from the second-floor terrace? She did consider jumping. But even if she weren't afraid of heights, there was no way she would actually jump. What if she broke a leg or fractured something? There was no way she was going to do that. "Stop looking. There's no signal or windows here." Lance's voice came from behind her. Tara turned around and saw him looking calm and collected. She suddenly felt reassured that it wasn't just her locked in here. Lance was here too, and he didn't seem anxious at all. She figured that he must have a way out. "How do we get out, then?" Tara asked. Lance looked out of the glass. "We wait for someone to come." Tara was at a loss for words. She assumed that there was actually another way out. "What if no one comes?" she asked, somewhat agitated. The sunroom was stuffy and uncomfortable and would only worsen once the sun came out. "Relax. I'll go down with you," Lance said. Tara felt the corner of her eye twitch. Was he really in the mood to joke? "It's so stuffy…" she muttered. Lance glanced at her, then walked over to a table. He opened the drawer beneath it, took out a remote control, and turned the air conditioning on. In the quiet sunroom, the hum of the air conditioning units outside could be heard. Only then did Tara notice that there were several air conditioners installed in the corners of the room. "Just wait a while," Lance said as he placed the remote control down. Tara walked over to a wooden chair and sat down, spacing out with her chin propped in her hand. Who could be in a good mood after being messed with first thing in the morning? The suspects who locked her in the sunroom were most likely the few live-in housekeepers. It couldn't be anyone else. It was still early, and the other housekeepers who were tasked to clean would still be on their way to work. The only ones who knew that she would be cleaning the sunroom that day were Leah and a few others. Tara sighed softly. She thought that playing this kind of nonsense was just so annoying. Lance sat on the wooden chair across from her, watching her like this. "Do you want to know who it is?" Lance asked. Tara stared at him. "You know who's behind this?" He had been on the terrace then, so she figured that he must have seen who came in and out of the sunroom. "I saw them," he said, not immediately naming who it was. "You saw the person? Who was it?" she asked. The whole sunroom had no surveillance cameras, either inside or out. Only the villa had cameras. But the main building was huge, and getting around to the sunroom wouldn't have been that hard. Lance didn't answer her. When he didn't respond, Tara asked again, "You're not going to cover for that person, are you?" She wondered if it was the female lead, Stella. Lance's actions then would make sense. After all, he was one of the male leads. But would Stella really do something so foolish? This would definitely be exposed, and Gemma would never keep someone who pulled such a stunt. After all, this wasn't a trivial matter. If anything went wrong or someone got hurt, Gemma would consider that for sure. Tara knew that Stella couldn't possibly be unaware of the consequences of doing something like this. "I won't," Lance said. Tara was getting impatient with his slow response. She felt that it should spit it out. "Go up to the terrace. I want you to be my model for a painting," Lance laid out his terms. There was a strong hint that she wouldn't be able to pry that person's name out of him if she disagreed. Tara had no experience as a model, but to avoid the hassle of getting information on the person, she nodded in agreement. She had seen on TV that models for painters always had to hold one position and remain still. Once she was on the second-floor terrace, she looked around. "I don't want to stand," Tara said. She wasn't sure how long Lance would take to paint. Her legs would go numb if she stood too long, so she wanted to sit. Lance behaved like a gentleman for once. He placed a chair on the terrace and let her sit with her back to it. "No need to stand. Just sit down," he said as he adjusted the position of the chair. Tara sat in the chair, feeling a bit awkward with him staring at her. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. Lance couldn't help but laugh at her defensive gesture. He instructed, "Relax. Keep your hands at your sides and stretch your legs out. Move your right leg forward…" Following his instructions and adjusting her posture wasn't too complicated. "When you're done with my head, let me know. I'll take a nap," she said. She had gotten up too early and had cleaned the sunroom thoroughly. Now, she was feeling sleepy sitting in the chair. Lance wasn't sure why, but when he heard her say "done with her head", it sounded so abrupt that he couldn't help but chuckle. He replied, "Alright."