There’s a lot of ways to describe my life, but from the time I could remember, I know I meant to be ordinary. The situation is, it’s hard to commit you’re ordinary, I did try, my parents paid a lot of money to let me learn filmmaking, but I finally ended up writing script in Donny’s pizza house. How pathetic. But god finally had his mercy on me, I met Olivia. It all happened in a rainy, nasty night, I was writing a boring romantic comedy script under the yellow light , forced to bear the smell of bad oil. She pushed the door and walked in, her blue eyes and blonde hair were glowing, I saw a raindrop stuck on her eyelashes, liked expensive jewelry. She glanced at me - god knows her eyes were like lakes, made you keep drowning - then she decided to sit next to me, together with the beautiful cherry smell. I recognized her - the famous Broadway actress - Olivia·Havilland.

Olivia told me she fell in love with me from the glance, but I know she married me not for love - I know this many years later, though this makes me seemed more pathetic, but one thing you need to know, I never loved this woman. She’s pretty, undeniable charming, yes, but she’s hateful, annoying at the same time. Her father, Mr.Havilland loves her, and that makes her most time acting like a, I hate to say this, a jerk. But still, I asked her to marry me as many other normal guys in a normal evening, the proposal took place at the seaside, I saw dolphin jumped out of the sea, the moon was so bright, she said yes, that’s the moment of love. Even I don’t love her. Do I?

I don’t want to figure this out, all I know is after the proposal, I formally became a member of the Havilland family, and yes, just as you guess, my last name is Havilland now. I share the wealth of this old family with other family members, like I was originally born here. In return, I need to take care of Mr.Havilland, I don’t write script anymore, people call me nanny now. I don’t have a choice of how other people think about me, I choose money first, after all.

It’s hard to describe Mr.Havilland, he’s sick from the time I first saw him, coughing old man, sitting in a enormously big wooden chair, talked to me as if that was his last breathe, “would you marry my daughter or not?”, that’s what he always said to me. I sometimes felt confused, did he really worry about his daughter that time, or he just wanted to find a free nanny? But when I’m actually taking care of him, I find he’s amazingly healthy, with clear mind. He’s afraid of death, I can see, he needs to take five different types of pills each day, and he’s always talking about his will.

His will, like a spell in this family, or a curse.

I know everyone in this family wants to see the will, me, Olivia, her siblings, and Mr.Havilland’s wife. But nobody ever mentioned about this. There are many strict rules in this family, and the first and second rules are never asked about Mr.Havilland’s will. Olivia told me this the first day I moved into the house, that time I was sitting in the couch, sensing how cold and unwelcoming this house was, and thinking about the actual meaning of this marriage - why would I marry her, why would she marry me? Then Olivia started talking about these strange rules, there were about 52 rules, others didn’t matter, the first two were the rules that actually working, made the rest fifty rules like some kind of cover up.

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Then we had dinner with other members in this family - Ms.Vanderbroom, Joan, Matthew and George.

I never seen them all sitting together before, the relationship between them were kind of complicated due to the three marriage Mr.Havilland had. Ms.Vanderbrrom, the currently wife of Mr.Havilland, somehow doesn’t change her family name. Her first name was Helen, nobody called her in that name for a pretty long time. She is elegant, wearing pearls, the long and straight red hair now is half white. I heard a lot of people say she’s like a witch, or a vampire, but herself is more like swan to me. Joan is the oldest child of Mr.Havilland, she was 32 when I first met her, but still unmarried. She has dark brown curly hair and brown eyes, just like her dead mom. All I know about her was that she teaches chemistry in a high school, she always seemed nervous and anxious, likes a deer facing the wolf. Matthew, Olivia’s actual sibling, also the youngest child in this family, is the wolf. He has similar face as Olivia, even more charming, but in personality, he’s way worse than his sister. I could see that night, that he didn’t like me, or he was just put some of his anger on me, cause Joan refused to talk to him that night, though from my point of view, he was nearly begging her for a short conversation. He’s a doctor, but if I’m the patient and he’s the only choice I have, I’d rather die. Finally George, I didn’t know much about him, even now. He’s mystery, all I know is that he’s the second child of this family, but his mother is the third wife of Mr.Havilland - Ms.Vanderbroom, a cheating history hidden under her swan mask. That probably could explain why George always looks so depressed, when I see him, somehow only Allan Poe and suicide left in my brain. This is how powerful George is, so I always try to avoid meeting him , which is hard, because he’s as me, staying in this house most of the time - he’s a pianist, he doesn’t need to go to work.

Bearing this family could be hard, luckily they couldn’t bear each other, so they only see each other in some important events, like Thanksgiving and Christmas to avoid argument and fighting, or like today, Mr.Havilland finally wants to announce his will.

It’s time to go downstairs and wake Mr.Havilland from his little nap, Olivia complained to me yesterday that this sudden decision of her father made her missing an important acting opportunity, I know other people are annoyed, except George and Ms.Vanderbroom, they have plenty of time.

But when I on my way to the study room, I feel something wrong will happen, I don’t want to think about it, but images keep showing in my brain, and each image could match the situation I see now - Mr.Havilland falls from his wooden chair, lying on the floor, his mouth opens, but not breathing, his face now looks like rotten eggplant. He’s dead, in the most important day of this family.

I know it seems unprofessional and not proper, but I start screaming.