Little Maid in Sanctuary City

Chapter 1

The winter air still held a bite as Amelia Greenfield found herself in Sanctuary City, dragged along by her Aunt Agnes. They were headed to the sprawling estate of the Blackwood Family, where Amelia would be expected to stay.

"What’s Aunt Agnes thinking? She wants to be a maid, and now she wants you to be Elijah Blackwood's little maid too?" Maxwell Bright scoffed.

"He's called a companion," Amelia corrected, a hint of defiance in her tone. "Or maybe a tutor."

That was the only way she could comfort herself.

"A tutor? Please! You’re really supposed to move into his homestead? Do you even know what kind of person Elijah Blackwood is?" Maxwell’s voice dripped with skepticism.

With that, their way forward was suddenly blocked.

“Oh, and what do you think Elijah Blackwood is like?” A smooth, carefree voice interjected. Amelia looked up to find Master Rivers standing before them, a group of colorful-haired boys surrounding him, resembling the local troublemakers.

Among them, Elijah Blackwood stood in stark contrast to his friends. His rebellious, dyed hair starkly highlighted his strikingly handsome features, making him look like he stepped straight out of a graphic novel. A charming grin played on his lips, laced with mischief as he regarded Amelia.

Maxwell instinctively stepped back, a look of concern etched on his face. “Elijah Blackwood! What do you want?”

Amelia felt the shock crash over her. This was Elijah Blackwood, the notorious heir of the Blackwood Family.

"New friend?" Elijah raised an eyebrow, looking straight at Amelia. “How’s it going?” His casual appraisal of her was directed at Maxwell.

She noted the slender nature of this younger boy – a middle schooler, perhaps. Just then, Elijah pulled out a box of cigarettes, casually flipping a lighter—a stark, ominous twist to the whole encounter. Amelia's brows furrowed as she watched him light up with ease.

“Is she really your new girlfriend?” Another boy, Cassandra Vireo, glared at Amelia menacingly, his finger nearly poking her in the nose. She took a step back, instinctively wary.

“Mind your own business, you punk!” Maxwell shouted, irritation flashing across his face.

The moment became tense, silence hanging thick in the air as if it could snap like a taut string.

“Maxwell Bright, you think you’re brave?” Elijah challenged, a playful glint in his eyes. “If you kiss her, we’ll let you both go.”

All gazes turned to Maxwell.

The inner workings of Elijah’s mind were a mystery, yet the authoritative note in his voice was undeniable. Maxwell hesitated, weighing his chances against Elijah and his companions. He didn’t want to lose face in front of Amelia but also felt the pressure mounting.

Though conflicted, he couldn’t help but glance at Amelia, his uncertainty apparent.

It was clear; Amelia’s cheeks flared with embarrassment and indignation.

“Don’t you dare!” she warned, her expression fierce as she shot him a pleading look.

Elijah chuckled, clearly entertained by her resolve. “The little one has guts,” he remarked, glancing back at his impatient companions—Julian Rivers and Cassandra Vireo were already closing in, dragging a reluctant Maxwell aside.

“Let him go!” Amelia called out, reaching for her cousin, but Elijah grasped the hood of her coat, holding her back as she struggled to break free.

She watched in horror as Maxwell was pushed into a nearby alleyway, where punches began to rain down on him.

“Is it true you don’t care about your friend getting beaten? Maybe you don’t like him that much after all. I’ll bet he’ll toss you aside in no time,” Elijah teased, blowing out a puff of smoke that filled the air between them.

The acrid smell filled her nostrils, stinging against her lungs, but she couldn’t pull away from his grip. Clenching her fists tightly, she bit her lip, taking a calming breath.

Elijah found her reaction amusing, watching with intrigue as she held her composure amid the chaos. Had she really not a care in the world?

Maxwell’s silence during his torment seemed to echo in the dark, adding weight to the confrontation.

With a renewed sense of mischief, Elijah leaned closer, “Since you’re not bothered about him, how about a reward? Let’s share a kiss instead.”

As he casually tossed his cigarette to the ground, his fingers trailed toward her chin, a devilish spark in his eyes.

Chapter 2

"Shut up!" Amelia Greenfield glared up at the boy above her. He was too young, she thought, pondering how to handle him.

Not only was she petite, but Robbie (of little height as well) had a face that could only be described as cherubic—an image that seemed to shield him from the subtle mockery in her eyes. As she locked eyes with Elijah Blackwood, that known devil of the streets, she couldn’t help but scoff at him.

He was still that small—a boy who dared to threaten her with a glare.

Elijah snorted in annoyance, but instead of being intimidated, he leaned down, intent on kissing her.

Before she could react, a sharp sound pierced the air.

“Ouch!” The cry echoed through the alleyway.

"Damn it!" Elijah muttered darkly, clutching his head, horrified by the sudden impact and urgent enough to understand he had to find out who assaulted him. But as soon as he had the chance to regain composure, Amelia leapt at him once more.

She brandished a small, dark object that smacked him soundly, and despite his surprise, he stumbled backward, crashing to the ground.

“Oh my God, Brother Christian!” Robbie shouted from across the alley, attending to his two pals who seemed frozen at the sight of the chaos unfolding before them.

With great effort, Elijah managed to pry the weapon from her grasp—an old, beat-up phone.

“No way!” He squinted suspiciously. “You actually hit me with this?”

Amelia, unwilling to linger, scrambled to her feet and shouted to Maxwell Bright, “Bright, come on!”

Maxwell stood gaping like a deer caught in headlights before he shook himself back to reality and sprinted after her. Behind them, Elijah roared in frustration, “You little brat! You better run; if I catch you, you’re dead!”

“Wow, Bro Christian, did you just get beat up by a girl?” Maxwell cracked, laughter bubbling in his voice as they made their escape.

“Shut it! Find out who that girl was! What’s her name? Which Academy is she from?” Elijah barked back.

“Calm down, will you? I’ll make sure we bring her to you!” Maxwell replied, still grinning, but now more cautious.

……

“Whoa, Zachary, when did you become such a fighter?” Maxwell gushed as they raced down the street.

Amelia frowned, irritation etched across her face. “I’m only after Vireo; you caused this mess.”

Maxwell quickly caught on, trying to soothe, “Don’t worry, you’re still the good little lady of the House.”

She shot him a sidelong glance, annoyed, and turned briskly toward the bus stop. In her pocket, she felt the weight of Agnes's old phone, now taken away from her. That Elijah character would probably toss it anyway.

The memory of Elijah Blackwood's swaggering presence on the street, like a bratty lord with his entourage, only annoyed her further. She now had to see him again at the Academy after knocking him down.

……

“Lord Blackwood, Lord Hastings asked for you to come by later tonight and not to wander around aimlessly,” Uncle Henry said from the front seat of the car, oblivious to the tension nearby.

Elijah frowned, already feeling the familiar surge of annoyance. “I have no idea what Agnes is going to lecture me about now,” he scoffed, feeling the already painful lump on his head from where she hit him.

Cassandra Vireo, sitting next to him, suddenly realized something. “Bro Christian, didn’t Maxwell mention his new girlfriend was moving into your house? What’s up with that?”

Elijah suddenly remembered, though he couldn’t recall being introduced to her. A wicked grin broke across his face. “Well, let’s just say she’s in for a rough ride!”

He pulled out the phone he had just snatched, its old-school keypad worn out like a relic of the past. “Seriously, who still uses this?”

“Wait, she hit you with that?” Elijah laughed, barely able to contain his incredulity. “I hear that thing can knock a person out!”

“Shut it—” Elijah grumbled, the pain in his head throbbing in time with his irritation.

His face darkened as he scrutinized the ancient device, its screen practically ancient. The interface was rudimentary; apart from calls and texts, the primary functions were just the camera and music options.

The gallery showcased a few cute selfies—with some goofy-looking little girl, probably five or six years old, and she fit the same vibe as that brat who just clocked him.

In a hilarious turn, he realized he couldn’t even access her text messages without a password.

Chapter 3

“Damn…” Elijah Blackwood shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face.

There had to be some shady business going on with that secretary!

The only name he recognized in the phone book was Maxwell Bright—no one else. Would she really move into his family’s estate without mistakenly thinking he was her husband?

Yet, as he stared at the name Bright Christian, a sneer crept across his lips as he immediately blocked the number.

…

It was a hectic evening when Lady Eleanor, his mother, arrived early at Blackwood Manor. Elijah braced himself for her lecture.

Little did he know, sleep was creeping in as she rambled on.

Lady Eleanor's anger flared at his nonchalant attitude, and she slammed her hand on the gathering table, jolting him awake.

“Are you trying to scare me to death, Agnes?”

“I found you a tutor for the manor. Starting next term, she’ll be shadowing you, Markus," she said sternly, cutting off his brooding.

“Tutor for the manor? What do you mean?” Elijah rubbed his ears, still a bit dazed.

“Essentially a study partner. She’s brilliant and could actually help improve your grades," she replied evenly, a hint of motherly hope in her voice.

Being the son of the school's principal, his grades were notoriously poor, which left him with nothing to say to Robbie, who’s working hard to excel.

“A study partner? Is this the new trend now? Fine, fine, Lord Hastings, I’ll accept,” Elijah raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling.

But he planned on transforming that ‘study partner’ into his own little servant!

“Come on, let’s go meet her now,” Lady Eleanor instructed after finishing her tirade, standing up with purpose.

“Wait, she’s seriously moving into the manor? Is that really necessary?”

What was a study partner even? He couldn’t shake off the vision of how Old Agnes might set it all up for him, perhaps even getting her little dog tucked in beside him at night!

Lady Eleanor rolled her eyes at her son’s sarcasm. Elijah reluctantly slipped on his sandals and followed her downstairs, already exasperated.

“Old Agnes, just to be clear, I won’t accept a tutor sleeping in my room!”

“Watch your mouth!” Lady Eleanor scolded.

…

As night fell, lights illuminated Blackwood Manor, echoing its opulent European style. In the parlor, a young lady named Selene was already there, as if waiting for ages.

Selene appeared slightly anxious, her posture stiff, while Master Julian Rivers was quietly standing nearby, lips pressed together, his eyes betraying curiosity as he scanned the intricacies of the room.

When Elijah passed by and caught their silhouettes, he was taken aback.

The little ‘brother’ he had imagined became a mere ‘girl’?

“Lord Hastings, Master Rivers,” Isabella White greeted through her slight lift of the hand, trembling with a mix of politeness and subservience.

As Elijah recognized Master Julian’s face, he remembered that same girl who had smacked him with her phone earlier that day.

In that moment, the notion of her staying at his manor turned from a frivolous thought to a full-on reality.

What a twist of fate!

Elijah Blackwood grinned as he leaned closer, “Agnes, you can’t be saying this little country girl is the tutor you found for me?! What a joke!”

“Master Rivers!” Isabella awkwardly acknowledged him, her face reddening at the recognition.

A girl from Whispering Town felt out of place among the grandeur of Blackwood Manor.

“She’s Amelia Greenfield. She’ll be giving you extra help in your classes. And be nice!” Lady Eleanor warned, her motherly authority reinstated.

To establish respect, she added quickly, “Amelia, you and Elijah are the same age, so feel free to call him Christian.”

Elijah lazed around in his stance, his eyes conveying a detached amusement.

This little tutor seemed like the perfect blend of innocence and defiance. He couldn’t wait to see how long she could keep this charade up.

“Hello, Master Rivers," Amelia murmured, her eyes glancing nervously to the young man who continued to smirk at her.

She had no intention of calling someone so smug 'Christian' anyway—especially not with that mocking expression!

Once everyone cleared out, she still had no idea how she would maneuver around him.

Amelia furrowed her delicate brow, inwardly cursing the situation.

“Ugh, damn it," she thought, half of her mind ready to bolt.

Chapter 4

Amelia Greenfield regretted going to Grandma’s Cottage today; if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have bumped into him.

Lady Eleanor watched with a satisfied smile as Amelia held herself with an air of proper dignity, her composure reflecting her understanding of her place.

Elijah Blackwood had half hoped she would call him “Christian,” but instead, she seemed surprisingly perceptive.

He let out a soft click of his tongue and remarked, “Agnes, are you sure she could be my aunt? She looks more like she just stepped out of middle school.”

Standing at six feet one, Elijah towered over Amelia, whose five-foot-five frame appeared almost childlike next to him. He sauntered over casually and leaned down, placing a heavy hand on her head, as if to assert his dominance. “What’s up, Little Maid?”

His charming smile revealed a set of gleaming white teeth, but Amelia turned her head, dodging his intentional intimidation. She stepped aside and met his gaze head-on. “Mr. Rivers, I’m Amelia Greenfield, and I’m seventeen.”

So please, stop calling me a middle schooler.

Elijah’s expression shifted for a moment—a flicker of surprise crossed his features—because he was still waiting for his own seventeenth birthday.

This little brat is older than me?

Impossible.

He squinted, almost challengingly. “Well, I’m eighteen!”

“How childish.” Lady Eleanor raised her hand delicately to smooth her finely groomed brows. “Old Man Yates, take Amelia downstairs and have her tidy up—”

“Wait a minute,” Elijah interrupted angrily, shooting down Old Agnes’s instructions. “Maxwell and Matilda are busy; I need to have a word with my ‘Little Maid’ and escort her upstairs myself.”

With a mischievous tug of her hair, he turned on his heel, striding out.

“Go on, Zachary,” Agnes nudged her forward.

Amelia felt a creeping dread but had no choice—she braced herself and followed.

She recalled the way he had looked at her earlier and the words he had said as she left the alley behind...

She even steeled herself for the possibility of a pounding.

Under his roof, she had to bow her head; it was a hard truth she accepted.

Clenching her fists, she marched on.

The second floor was Elijah's territory. He casually pushed open a door, revealing what looked like a gym filled with exercise equipment.

He got a drink from the fridge and sat on the couch, glancing up at Amelia, who lingered hesitantly at the doorway. “Come in, Little Maid.”

He watched her move as slow as molasses. Now she’s scared, huh?

A wicked smile played at the corners of his mouth, wondering if Maxwell Matilda had recommended her for this role after just half a year of being a maid in their house.

He wasn’t particularly interested in a companion to read to or anything; he scratched his chin, contemplating how best to make her admit defeat and plea for mercy.

“Amelia Greenfield. What a strange name,” he mused.

When adversaries meet, tensions rise.

Amelia stood quietly, not uttering a word. Did she truly wish to enroll in that prestigious Academy?

Not really. Compared to what Noble Academy offers, she just wanted to focus on her studies with Headmaster Harris. Instead, under Selene's influence, she felt like she had moved into a high-society villa only to end up as a maid.

And as time went on, it seemed that she was destined to endure the tyranny of this masked lord.

“You wouldn’t be trying to pretend you don’t know me, would you?”

After a moment, he initiated their previous spat, eyeing her thin frame. She seemed frail, almost like a stray. How could such a tiny creature push him down?

Elijah mentally shook his head in disbelief, his gaze sweeping over her petite silhouette.

He fished her brick-heavy phone from his pocket, glancing at her pointedly.

Amelia’s eyes widened; she thought he would have thrown it out by now.

“I have a great memory, you know. I don’t forget easily, and I always repay debts. So let’s have it: how would you like to die?”

He lounged comfortably on the couch, his legs sprawled casually over the coffee table, tossing her phone as easily as a ball.

Chapter 5

"You're the ones who started it!" Amelia Greenfield furrowed her delicate brows, clenching her fists instinctively. She had never been one to shy away from confrontation, but after witnessing Christian being bullied and enduring Maxwell's heckling, she couldn't stand by any longer.

"Ha! You're clearly clueless," Elijah Blackwood scoffed, his dark eyes narrowing at her, irritation etched on his face. He had no respect for the so-called gentleman act of the homesteader. Young and naive to be chasing after romance, while playing sweet in front of adults, yet he was nastier than any bully, a true violent Lord among men. What did Old Agnes even see in him to send her as a tutor?

With a frown, Amelia wanted nothing to do with this topic. "If Master Rivers has no further business, then I'll take my leave."

"Not so fast," Elijah snapped back. "Who said I have no business? Maxwell Bright not only stole Swift’s girlfriend but had the audacity to come after you too. Don't you think he deserves a beating? You backed your uncle into a corner, did you know that?" He shot her a chilling glare, dripping with disdain.

Amelia remained unperturbed, shaking her head defiantly. “I didn’t.”

“Right now, you didn’t. But—” His grin widened as he shook her phone mockingly. “Maxwell called and dumped you already.” His tone held a hint of mock sympathy, and his gaze lingered on her expression, waiting for the inevitable tears.

Amelia felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. How could he make up such a lie? Hitting her like a ton of bricks, she stared at him, her lips pressed tightly together. "Can you return my phone now?"

“Would I?” Elijah countered. “Who loses a boyfriend and looks like you do?”

His arrogance triggered an irritation within her. She gritted her teeth, “I’m not your old lady; I’m just here to help you catch up in class!”

She wasn't about to submit to the playful insults of this arrogant lord. Yet, Elijah raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “Want to take the position of my lady, huh? Dream on!”

Amelia Greenfield fell silent, recognizing the absurdity of their class divide. Confronted with his relentless taunts, she questioned how they could even communicate effectively across their social barriers.

“What? No clever comeback? Did I strike a nerve?” Elijah teased, before slipping into an arrogant self-assessment. “Compared to your ex, I’m obviously the more handsome one. It’s normal to get flustered.”

Switching tactics, he snapped back to reality. “Remember your place, Little Maid.”

Amelia clenched her jaw. This vain noble was insufferable.

“What's wrong? Aren’t you still the Little Maid?” Elijah grinned, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

When she stayed silent, he pointed to the wall behind her. “Step over there.”

Tension crackled in the air as he picked up a sleek bodyguard plaque from the wall, brandishing it with mock delight. The playful menace in his smile only worsened her growing unease.

Seeing the stark whiteness spread across her face brought a sense of triumph to Elijah. “Don't move! Otherwise, if I lose grip, you might just catch the bodyguard plaque right in the face. That wouldn't be a pretty sight.”

He relished in his power over her, knowing well how precision-marked his aim had always been.

“Go ahead, break down, Little Maid! I’m waiting for you to beg for mercy!”

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