An Uneasy CalmThe mansion woke early, unusually bright with activity. The staff rushed through the halls, carrying trays, arranging flowers, polishing silver until it gleamed like mirrors. Sierra quickly realized this wasn’t ordinary bustle. Vanessa was planning something bigger than her small midnight games.Sierra pressed her ear to the banister and caught fragments of Vanessa’s voice, crisp and commanding: “The guests will arrive promptly… Champagne ready by seven… No mistakes tonight.”Guests. That meant outsiders. Strangers who didn’t yet carry Vanessa’s suspicions or worse, people she planned to draw into her web.Damien found Sierra in the library, staring blankly at the rain-smeared window. “She’s hosting tonight,” he said flatly, already anticipating her panic. “A dinner. Some business associates, a few old friends. She’s dressing it as casual, but it’s calculated.”Sierra turned, her voice unsteady. “Calculated how?”Damien’s green eyes hardened. “She’s going to test the wa
The storm outside had broken sometime in the early morning. Sierra woke to the low rumble of thunder rolling across the horizon, the steady patter of rain against her window. For a fleeting moment, cocooned beneath the heavy blanket, she allowed herself to believe the sound could wash her clean, drown out the chaos inside her head.But when she turned, Damien’s side of the bed was empty. Cold.The knot in her stomach tightened. He had been restless the night before, pacing the room long after she begged him to rest. She knew he was planning, calculating, but the more he schemed in silence, the more she feared even he wasn’t sure how to win this war.Sierra dressed slowly, choosing a simple blouse and dark skirt. Nothing flashy, nothing Vanessa could twist into vanity or seduction. She had begun to second-guess every choice, every gesture, every word she spoke within the mansion’s walls. It was exhausting, like living with a mirror trained on her at all times.The house was awake when
The mansion felt different the morning after Vanessa’s midnight gathering.It wasn’t the furniture, or the polished marble, or the golden chandeliers that caught the light the same way they always had. It was the air. Thick, weighted, charged with a kind of silence Sierra couldn’t name. She woke with it pressing against her chest, as if the house itself had absorbed Vanessa’s whispered warning from the night before and was now holding it inside its walls.Damien’s bed was warm, his body heavy and protective beside her, but even his presence couldn’t ease the chill that had settled in her bones. She lay there listening to his even breathing, watching the soft morning light creep through the curtains, and wondered how long they could keep doing this. How long until Vanessa’s game became a trap they couldn’t escape?When Damien stirred, his arm tightened around her waist. “You didn’t sleep,” he murmured without opening his eyes.Sierra pressed her lips together. “Neither did you.”His gr
The Steele mansion had always been a house of masks, but that night the game felt deliberate.Vanessa moved through the great hall with effortless grace, the sweep of her crimson gown catching the light of the chandeliers like fire stitched into silk. Her laughter rang out bright, melodic, deceptively warm as servants carried trays of champagne and wine into the parlor. The scene could have belonged to a magazine spread: a midnight gathering, elegant and intimate, where power and beauty converged beneath painted ceilings.But Sierra knew better.Every detail was timing, the guest list, the little whispers of “let’s have something casual, something fun” was curated. This wasn’t hospitality. This was theater. And she was the unwilling star.Damien stood beside her, immaculate in a tailored suit, his hand resting at the small of her back. His touch was grounding, but his posture was tense, his green eyes scanning the room with predator’s caution. He, too, knew what this evening was.Vane
The storm from the night before had broken, but the silence it left behind was heavier than thunder. The Steele estate lay under a gray sky, dew clinging to the windows, the gardens glistening in the aftermath of rain. Everything looked washed clean, but Sierra felt no such relief. The quiet pressed in on her chest, as if the house was holding its breath, waiting.She lingered at her bedroom door, listening. The hallways were hushed, yet the faint clink of porcelain drifted from below the sound of breakfast being laid out. Her stomach churned. She knew Vanessa would be waiting.Gathering herself, Sierra descended the staircase, each step echoing too loudly against the marble. In the dining room, Vanessa sat poised at the head of the table, a vision of elegance in a pale cream dress. She was buttering her toast, her movements unhurried, almost serene.“Good morning, darling,” Vanessa said without looking up. Her tone was smooth, honeyed, but it carried a weight that made Sierra’s skin
The storm from the night before had broken, but the silence it left behind was heavier than thunder. The Steele estate lay under a gray sky, dew clinging to the windows, the gardens glistening in the aftermath of rain. Everything looked washed clean, but Sierra felt no such relief. The quiet pressed in on her chest, as if the house was holding its breath, waiting.She lingered at her bedroom door, listening. The hallways were hushed, yet the faint clink of porcelain drifted from below the sound of breakfast being laid out. Her stomach churned. She knew Vanessa would be waiting.Gathering herself, Sierra descended the staircase, each step echoing too loudly against the marble. In the dining room, Vanessa sat poised at the head of the table, a vision of elegance in a pale cream dress. She was buttering her toast, her movements unhurried, almost serene.“Good morning, darling,” Vanessa said without looking up. Her tone was smooth, honeyed, but it carried a weight that made Sierra’s skin