Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 81: Messed-Up Family

Chapter 81: Messed-Up Family

Perched on a private, gated island, the mansion stood three stories high, its exterior a flawless blend of onyx-black stone and sleek glass, reflecting the moonlight like a damn monument to excess. A circular driveway led up to the entrance, where a cascade of stairs flanked by sculpted panthers guided visitors to titanium doors engraved with gold inlays of ancient symbols.

Inside? Pure decadence.

The grand foyer stretched upward, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into a web of gold beams. The floor was black marble, polished to a near-mirror shine, with a handcrafted Persian rug worth more than most people’s entire lives lying dead center.

A chandelier of obsidian and crystal hung above, casting fractured light across walls adorned with priceless art and artifacts.

Everywhere—wealth. Power. Control.

But deeper inside, through hallways lined with imported ebony wood and floor-to-ceiling mirrors, past lounges that smelled of cognac and expensive cigars, was the most intimate chamber of them all—

A sanctuary, untouched by the outside world.

Black marble everywhere, flecked with gold veins that shimmered under the low, warm lighting. A single wall-length mirror, slightly fogged from the steam. A walk-in rainfall shower, its glass panels etched with delicate symbols that flickered when touched.

And at the center of it all—

The bathtub.

Carved from a single block of pure obsidian, deep enough to swallow a man whole. The water inside was velvet-dark, rich with oils and silk-soft foam that clung to the surface in thick, luxurious layers.

And in that water—

Her.

Then—

A whisper, breathy, teasing—

"Justin."

*****

The mansion doors swung open, and in walked Adam.

He didn’t just step inside—he owned his entrance. The teenager barely gave a damn about formality, already trashing pieces of his school uniform as he went. The blazer? Gone. The tie? Yeeted. By the time he tossed his bag onto the floor and kicked off his shoes, changing into his indoor slippers, the place already looked like a scene of casual destruction.

Before the mess could settle, a maid rushed in, quick and efficient. She scooped up his discarded things, her expression polite but amused, like she had long since accepted this daily ritual of chaos.

"Welcome back, Adam," she greeted, smiling as she adjusted the pile of clothes in her arms.

Adam flashed a grin back at her, lazy and knowing. "Where’s Mom?"

The maid glanced toward the staircase. "She’s in her bedroom, probably in the shower."

That made him smirk—a dark chuckle slipping out.

"Well," he muttered, "no need to hold back then." Before she could react, he yanked her into his chest.

The maid let out a small, startled laugh before melting into it, her hands pressing against his chest as he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a slow, teasing kiss.

It was routine at this point.

But routine had its dangers.

Footsteps.

They froze. Adam’s grip tightened around her waist, his eyes darting to the source of the sound. Busted?

Not quite.

Standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, was a young woman—his older sister, Sydney.

She sighed, shaking her head like she had just caught a dog humping a pillow. "You’re a fucking weirdo," she deadpanned.

Adam arched a brow. "Oh?"

Sydney tilted her head, already tired of his bullshit. "So this is why you always make sure to come back home at night, huh? Mom’s in the shower, and you get to make out with the maids at the door like a goddamn creep?"

Adam rolled his eyes and shrugged. "And you know exactly how Mom would react if she found out."

Sydney scoffed, completely unimpressed. "Please. She’d only react if your stupid-ass maid fetish ended up in the news."

The maid in Adam’s arms covered her mouth, holding back a laugh. Sydney, already over this conversation, turned on her heel and walked away.

Adam leaned against the wall, watching her go with a shit-eating grin. "You’re not even gonna ask how he was today?" he called after her.

Sydney didn’t miss a beat—she threw up a vomit gesture over her shoulder. "I’m not discussing my man with my disgusting little brother."

That sent Adam into a booming laugh. "Your man my ass!"

Sydney didn’t even bother replying. She was gone.

Adam sighed, shaking his head. "When the hell is that one-sided crush gonna end?"

Oh well. Not his problem. He shrugged, turned back to the maid still in his arms, and grinned.

"Now... where were we?" She giggled, and he led her straight to his bedroom.

Sydney leaned back, sinking her teeth into the burger, the soft bun pressing against her lips before the rich, juicy meat filled her mouth. She barely had the energy to chew as she watched her brother do his usual shit—flirting, touching, probably ready to drag another maid off somewhere.

She shook her head. Damn, this was getting pathetic. She hated admitting it, but her brother was sometimes right, her crush was one-sided as hell at this point.

Like, beyond hopeless. She couldn’t even muster the courage to talk to him properly, let alone ask anything remotely intimate. And let’s be real, even if she did? The guy was a fucking player. And not just any player—he was the player.

The one who had a damn waitlist of girls lined up, all fighting for a damn appointment like he was some high-end VIP service.

The worst part? She didn’t even mind.

If he wasn’t a player, she didn’t know who would be. Every girl at school—scratch that, every hot girl—wanted him. And they weren’t just some basic bitches either. These girls were gorgeous, polished, and ready to kill for a chance. So yeah, the competition was... brutal.

Not that she was lacking.

Sydney glanced down at herself as she wiped a bit of sauce off her lip. She wasn’t feeling insecure—hell no. If looks were the issue, she’d be winning.

Her oversized knit cardigan draped lazily off her shoulder, exposing a delicate lace strap underneath. The soft cream color made her skin glow, and the tiny white skirt? Yeah, that thing barely covered shit. Her thighs stretched out, smooth and hugged by the silk of her stockings, the little ribbons at the top sitting just right.

She knew she looked good.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was confidence—or lack thereof. Because damn, if she was really about that life, she’d walk up to him right now and make a move.

But she wasn’t that girl. And maybe, just maybe, with time, this stupid crush would fade.

...Right?

She exhaled, taking another bite of her burger before reaching for her drink. A slow sip, ice clinking against the glass as she let the cold sting distract her.

Yeah. Any day now.

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