The Queen Imperial

Chapter 22

Anne-Marie's eyes widened as she stepped inside the mansion, her breath catching in her throat.

"Woah,"

she whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it. She instantly regretted speaking aloud, but who could blame her? The hospital room had impressed her, but this—this was something out of a dream. She was standing in a real-life mansion, the largest and most opulent place she had ever seen. The sheer scale of the estate was overwhelming.

The ride to the Vutron estate had been short, but the journey to the mansion was double the journey. It felt like she was stepping into another world. Every road they took, every house they passed, screamed of wealth and privilege. This wasn't just a different part of the city—it was a different universe. Rich people really did own the world, or at least, this part of it.

Everything about the mansion was perfect. The trees lining the driveway, the wrought-iron gates, and now, the house itself. It was magnificent, too vast for her to take in all at once. The hallway alone was wider than the entirety of her old apartment. She followed Oliver inside, her steps slow and tentative, with Ramsey trailing closely behind them. Anne-Marie felt a mix of awe and trepidation as she took in her surroundings, her head turning to catch every detail. The grand chandeliers above her head, the polished marble floors that reflected the light, and the subtle scent of luxury that lingered in the air.

"Welcome home, sir." A warm, matronly voice broke through Anne-Marie's thoughts, and she turned to see an older woman approaching them. The woman's face was kind, with chubby cheeks and smooth skin that bore the gentle marks of age. Her grey hair was tied back neatly, and she wore a welcoming smile that made Anne-Marie feel slightly more at ease.

"This is Matilda," Oliver said, his tone businesslike but respectful. "She's the head of staff here and has been my daughter's nanny for years."

Anne-Marie glanced at him, a bit taken aback by his casual reference to Paris in front of her. Wasn't this supposed to be a secret?

"Don't worry about it," Oliver assured her, sensing her unease. "Matilda is family. She knows everything."

Oh. Anne-Marie's anxious smile returned as she nodded, trying to digest the information. The whole situation was still surreal to her.

"Welcome to the Vutron home, Miss Davis," Matilda said, her voice gentle but with a hint of formality. "Or should I say, Miss Vurton?"

The way Matilda addressed her sent a chill down Anne-Marie's spine. It was strange, unsettling even, to be called by someone else's name, especially someone as significant as Paris Vurton. But she forced a smile, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Matilda will show you to your room and help you get acquainted with the household," Oliver continued. "She'll also teach you everything you need to know about Paris—how to walk, talk, and eat like her. She would make sure you blend in perfectly."

Anne-Marie's stomach twisted in knots. It was bad enough that she had to pretend to be Paris, but now she had to learn how to *be* her in every way? The idea of losing herself in this role, of lying to everyone, weighed heavily on her.

Oliver's voice pulled her back to the moment.

"We'll start tonight with a photoshoot, followed by an interview with a few journalists interested in covering your recovery story."

Anne-Marie frowned, confusion evident in her eyes.

"Tonight? That's happening tonight?"

"With me and my wife, yes." Oliver clarified.
"Ramsey here," he gestured to the imposing man behind them, who had been silently watching the exchange, "would prepare you for the interview. He'll go over some questions you might be asked and coach you on how to respond."