Emily sat slumped at her desk, head bowed low as she let out a deep sigh. She lightly banged her head on the wooden surface, chastising herself for her lack of knowledge about the history of the manor. Despite her having been a world-renowned interior designer, she hadn't heard of Brice Manor.

She felt a sense of anger and frustration building toward herself. But she tried to calm her nerves by reminding herself that Brice Manor only became popular or was talked about while she was falling into the depths of alcohol addiction. The place used to be a no-visitor zone. Not even a photo of it was allowed to be taken.

It was only when - according to the internet - Marry Lufork - a person who inherited the Brice manor for reasons unknown - died that the Manor fell into the hands of one Stephen Carlson who then sold it to a man named Charlie Ingram that the manor and its history was opened to the public eye.

According to the article that Emily pulled up on the internet, the Brice family's lineage began in 1889 with the birth of John Brice who married Mary Smith in 1910. They erected the Brice Manor. Together they had three children: James, Elizabeth, and Thomas.

James married Margaret Johnson in 1935 and had two children, David and Susan.

The other child, Elizabeth married Robert Thompson in 1940 and had one child, Richard.

The youngest, Thomas, married Alice Brown in 1945 and had three children: William, Carol, and Robert.

There were no records of what happened to the Brices except for the child of James, David Brice who married Linda White in 1960. They had one child, the last entry to the family tree, Pier Brice.

This family was what truly caught Emily's attention. There was a note in the article that said, David and his family were frowned upon because they strayed from the norm. That norm was that the Brice family all practiced medicine and handled businesses like shipping, mining, and millinery. But this family was all focused on one thing, art. Especially their only child Pier. An enigmatic young man who was said to be a genius when it came to painting, interior designing, and carpentry.

There wasn't a lot on the internet that delved deeper into how talented Pier was, except for an entry that said, whatever you see in Brice Manor today is a product of Pier's love for art.

The entry continued to say that no one knows what happened to Pier Brice. There wasn't a record of him being married or having children. Even a death certificate was none existent. The genius faded from the face of the earth without anyone knowing which was a shock because he had done a lot of work and his disappearance should have been something that was recorded or spoken about.

As Emily continued to read, her eyes went wide as saucers. There it was, the thing about the third floor.

According to the article. Pier Brice wanted a space of his own and so he erected a small manor behind the original Brice manor. It was said - though unproven - that Pier Brice left his blueprints and other masterpieces on the third floor of his manor. It went on to say that on the third floor was where he kept some of his journals that spoke about mixing certain liquids to colors to make its vibrancy last a lifetime. The article ended with, all his secrets are kept on the third floor.

Emily sighed. No wonder they reacted that way, she thought to herself. As someone who studied art and interior design, one would think Emily Hudson knew about Pier Brice. But it was too late now. She knew that she should have done earlier research, and should have known about the history of the place before she got there.

As self-loath claimed her thoughts, her mind raced with memories of the past, of all the times when she had been at the top of her game, creating stunning designs that left her clients in awe. But now, as she struggled to regain her footing after years of addiction and self-destruction, she felt lost and alone.

As she sat there, her thoughts turned to her future. She knew that she had to push forward, to find a way to make things right and this project could very well be her only chance. With a determined expression on her face, she raised her head, lifted her arm, and yelled, "I'll prove myself worthy! I can do this!"

Emily was still in the middle of cheering herself up when she heard a loud noise from outside her room. Startled, she got up and walked toward her window, looked down, and saw a group of workers hurrying past. They appeared to be in a state of distress, and it was clear that something urgent was going on.

Emily opened her window and tried to listen in on the group of men below. As she listened more closely, she overheard one of the workers mention that the owner has arrived. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the gravity of the situation. The owner was there to meet her. She quickly gathered her thoughts and left her room, struggling to make her way down the corridor and the staircase.

Once she reached the kitchen, she was met by Jasper. He nodded to her and asked, "Ready?"

Emily smiled, albeit forced. Then she too nodded her head.

With haste, they exited the door of the kitchen, stepping outside and into the bright sunlight. As they made their way past the workers, Emily felt their curious eyes following her, but she kept her head high and continued walking, determined to reach their destination without having someone notice the erratic pounding of her heart. She had never felt nervous and excited in a long time.

After a few moments, they arrived in front of a sleek black limousine where they were met by a man with a strong presence. He eyed Emily with scrutiny, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than was comfortable.

His eyes traveled from her face down to her legs. She noticed how he frowned after his perusal of her.

Shit, Emily thought as she noticed that she was still wearing her tank top and shorts. She should have changed for Christ's sake!

Jasper introduced them, explaining that Emily was the newly hired designer and the man was the driver of the manor's owner. The man bowed to Emily, his expression unreadable.

"Please follow me inside the vehicle Miss Hudson," the man murmured as he turned on his heel.

Emily looked at Jasper. The man nodded his head as if urging her to go on.

She took a long drag of breath and then entered the vehicle and soon, Emily found herself face to face with an old man in a tux.

The man exuded an air of confidence and power that commanded attention. He looked like he was in his sixties. He was tall - Emily could tell even though he was seated - and imposing, with broad shoulders and a stern expression. His chiseled features were accentuated by a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, and his piercing black eyes seemed to bore into the soul of Emily who dared to meet his gaze. He sat with a strong posture, exuding an undeniable sense of authority and control. Emily had met a man like this before. A man who was used to getting what he wanted, and who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

"Miss Emily Hudson. My name is Charlie Ingram." The man began. His voice was deep and held authority. He reminded Emily of her Math teacher. He made her nervous, and not wanting to commit any mistakes.

His eyes were fixed on her with an unwavering intensity "I've given you this chance to work on the manor's third floor because I've seen your previous work and have always been impressed by it."

Emily's heart swelled with pride at the old man's words. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for, a chance to prove herself as a top-notch interior designer again.

"But," the old man continued his tone growing stern. "You mustn't stray from what you're supposed to do on the third floor. You're here to renovate it, not to indulge in your own creative whims or self-indulge in whatever you may find amusement on.

Emily bobbed her head. She didn't have to ask. She knew he was hinting about her previous alcohol addiction.

"You may have already noticed this but allow me to say it. The manor is being renovated to fit its original form. As much as possible I want everything to be as they were. Every piece of furniture, every color, every nook, and cranny should be the same. If you feel like a certain object is too far gone and there are no replacements that are identical to it, try to create something as close to the original as possible. Money is not a problem. If you feel like you have to import it from God knows where then let Jasper know. What matters is you don't make any drastic changes."

Emily nodded her understanding, but the old man wasn't done yet. "And let me warn you, if you mess up, you'll pay a hefty price. I've put a lot of trust in you, Emily, don't make me regret it."

With that, the old man instructed her to exit the vehicle and follow his driver, Mr. Saturobi to guide her to the manor's third floor.

As Emily stood behind the driver who at that time was giving instructions to Jasper, she pondered on the old man's words and the weight of the task before her.

Soon the driver faced Emily and asked her to follow him. Jasper didn't join them. He said that only Emily was permitted to enter the third floor.

The driver led Emily through the winding corridors of the manor, his steps slow and deliberate. As they walked, he explained the history of the estate, pointing out important landmarks and sharing stories about the family who had lived there for generations.

He repeated the things she read on the internet. Someone must have told them I knew nothing about the place, Emily thought to herself. A bit insulted but still accepting of her fault.

As they reached the staircase leading up to the third floor, the man turned to Emily, his face serious. "This floor is perhaps the most important part of the estate," he said. "It is the home of Pier Brice's most cherished possessions, and it is a space that deserves your utmost love and attention."

Emily nodded, her expression serious. She felt the weight of the man's words upon her, and she knew that she would have to work hard to live up to their expectations.

Together, they ascended the stairs, the man's hand resting lightly on the banister. As they reached the top, Emily felt her heart jump with excitement and anticipation. A big wooden door stood proudly before them.

"This floor hasn't seen changes over the years, Miss Husdon" the man continued. "But I know that under your care, it will be restored to its former glory." He then proceeded to pull out an old iron key from his pocket, held it out to Emily, and said, "The floor is yours to peruse."

Emily smiled, grateful for the man's words of encouragement. With a shaky and a bit hesitant hand, she reached out and took the key from him.

After she had taken the key, Mr. Saturobi bid her goodbye and descended the staircase without so much as a glance back at her. Emily sighed. She approached the locked door with caution, her heart beating fast with anticipation. She slowly inserted the old iron key into the lock and turned it, feeling the resistance give way as the lock clicked open. With a deep breath, she pushed the heavy door forward, revealing the third floor.

As she stepped inside, her eyes adjusted to the dim light that filtered in through the small windows. She looked around and her gaze was instantly drawn to a large window on the far side of the room, where a beam of light shone through, illuminating the space with a warm glow.

The window was tall and narrow, framed by peeling paint and cracked wood. The glass panes were dirty and streaked with grime, but despite this, the light that filtered in was still strong and bright. Emily walked over to the window and gazed out at the view below, marveling at the sight of the overgrown gardens and crumbling walls of the estate. A laugh escaped her mouth when she saw Oliver and someone engaged in some kind of altercation then both stumbled and fell on wet cement.

Laughter continued to escape her mouth. She hadn't had a good laugh in a long time. The previous years were nothing but a struggle to relieve her body of its longing for alcohol.

Emily took a deep breath, relishing how peaceful she felt. But then she noticed something strange. She swung her head back to stare at the inside of the third floor. Despite its abandoned state, it did not smell like decay and rot. Instead, the air was filled with the sweet scent of lavender and rose a combination that made her curious. She wondered how such a smell could exist in a place like this, and made a mental note to ask Japser later on.

With the scent forgotten along with its weird origin, Emily sighed. So this is where I will build my future," she whispered.

Glancing from side to side, she took in every detail of the third floor.

It was far gone to be a testament to the manor's former glory, Emily mused.

It was now in a state of near-dilapidation. The walls that were once covered in ornate wallpaper, now only have scraps of the pattern remaining, peeling away from the plaster in places.

Shking her head, Emily decided to leave the window and started to walk around. The floorboards creaked with every step she took, and in some areas, they sagged underfoot.

"Great," she muttered. Then further thought, This is turning out to be a huge challenge.

After shaking her head again, she looked up. The ceiling was high and vaulted, with intricate moldings and cornices that hinted at the grandeur of the space. However, the plaster was cracked and chipped, and in some places, it had fallen away entirely, revealing the wooden beams beneath.

I will need a man to help me with those, Emily mused.

Then her eyes lingered further.
There were four rooms on the third floor. So many things to do, her inner self complained.

She stood in the middle of the third floor for a moment then decided that she will start her serious perusal from one of the rooms and work her way out.

The first room was at the end of the hallway, its door covered in dust and cobwebs. The wood was stained and warped, and it was clear that the door had not been opened in many years.

Nope not here, Emily mused and then went on to the second room that was directly across from the first. Its door was slightly ajar. The wood was lighter than the first, but it was still rough to the touch, with deep gouges and scrapes marring its surface. Emily didn't feel the pull she was searching for. She wanted to start at a place that would make her heart skip a beat. One that would shake her core and force her imagination to run wild.

So she moved down the hall to the southeast corner of the house. The third room was there, positioned on the right-hand side. Its door was unlike any of the others on the floor. It was made of a heavy metal that creaked loudly when she tried to open it. The metal was rusted and pitted, with flakes of paint peeling away in places. No. Definitely not, Emily thought to herself stepping away from the door, leaving it ajar.

Finally, she made her way to the fourth room. It was on the left-hand side of the hallway, directly across from the third. Its door was the most ornate of all, with intricate brass hinges and a handle made of polished silver. However, even this door was not immune to the ravages of time, with chips and scratches marring its surface. However, Emily still felt like that wasn't the one. She turned her back on the door and just as she did, it creaked open. The strong scent of lavender and Roses instantly enveloped her.

"What the..." Emily muttered as she turned around, but her words died out when in front of her, at the far corner of the room in front she saw a portrait. The young man on it was perhaps the most beautiful man Emily had ever set eyes on. It made her heart skip a beat.