“The Grant family has been reassigning internal security. They’re auditing external loyalties.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning they’re watching everyone around you now. Including me.”
I looked at him. “Are you nervous?”
“No,” he said too quickly.
---
The east wing bedroom had already been rearranged by the time I returned to the estate.
My luggage sat neatly unpacked. My books shelved. Even my scarves had been hung in color order.
Someone had curated my existence.
I stood in the doorway, unsettled by the absence of chaos.
“Do you like it?” Clara asked from behind me.
“It’s efficient.”
“Efficiency is kindness here,” she replied. “We remove obstacles.”
I turned to face her. “Including people?”
She smiled thinly. “Sometimes.”
That night, I wandered the corridors unable to sleep. The house didn’t creak. It didn’t sigh. It absorbed sound like it was ashamed of it.
I found myself outside the west wing without remembering how I got there.
The door was ajar.
Lydia’s voice drifted out — low, warm, familiar.
“You shouldn’t keep hovering like that.”
Ethan answered her.
“I’m not hovering. I’m ensuring consistency.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
There was a pause. The kind that reveals a person more than words ever could.