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Chapter 17: The Brink of Disappearing
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2026-01-06 21:38:24
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Forever Always Chapter 19: The Morning After
The light was the first thing that hit me, a brutal, uncompromising white glare that felt like a physical weight against my eyelids. My head throbbed with a rhythmic, dull pulse, a reminder of every shot of tequila and every glass of champagne I’d swallowed in a blur of neon lights. I tried to roll over, but the texture of the fabric beneath me was wrong. It wasn't the scratchy, thin cotton of my staff cot. It was silk. Cool, expensive, and impossibly smooth. I snapped my eyes open, and the ceiling didn't have the familiar water stains of my room. It was vaulted, white, and perfect. "Oh my God," I whispered, the words sounding raspy and foreign. I bolted upright, and the cold air hitting my bare skin sent a jolt of pure electricity through my system. I was naked. I was in Ethan’s bed. And the sun was already pouring through the massive windows of the master wing. Panic, sharp and icy, sliced through my hangover. I didn't have time to process the headache or the haze. I scrambled
Forever Always Chapter 18: The Ghost of a Girl
For the first time in months, the house felt empty. With Victoria and her bridesmaids off to the Hamptons and the Mayor and Mrs. Grant attending a political gala across the state, the heavy silence of the mansion felt peaceful rather than predatory. I lay spread-eagle on my narrow bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of the staff quarters. My body ached from the humiliation of the night before the sticky residue of champagne still felt like it was clotted in my hair but my mind was blissfully blank. I was just Sasha. Not a maid, not a fugitive, not a secret. Just a girl breathing in the quiet. A sudden, sharp knock at my door made me bolt upright, my heart leaping into my throat. "Sasha? Open up." I scrambled to the door and pulled it open, my eyes wide. Ethan stood there, dressed in a dark, tailored jacket and a crisp white shirt, looking far too energized for the hour. "Ethan? What are you doing in the staff wing? If Harrison…” "Harrison is four towns over picking up a 'rare
Forever Always Chapter 17: The Brink of Disappearing
The creak of the floorboard was still echoing in my ears long after the hallway went silent. Ethan had slipped away through the servant's entrance, leaving me to step out into the corridor alone, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn't even make it three steps before a shadow detached itself from the gloom of the back stairs. "A dangerous place to linger, Sasha." I gasped, spinning around. Mr. Harrison stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression as unreadable as a stone monument. He didn't look angry; he looked weary, which was somehow much worse. "Mr. Harrison, I was just…” "I know what you were doing," he interrupted, his voice a low, sandpaper rasp. He stepped closer, and for the first time, the cold authority in his eyes shifted into something that looked uncomfortably like pity. "And I know what you think you’re doing. You think Ethan Grant is your shield. You think because he holds you in the dark, he will protect you in the light." I looked down at
Forever Always Chapter 16: The Weight of the Tray
The rest of the morning was a masterclass in survival. I moved through the house with my head bowed so low my neck ached, trying to blend into the wallpaper. But Victoria wasn't going to let me disappear. She had spent the morning simmering in her own suspicion, and she needed a target. I was in the middle of polishing the mahogany bannister when she called for me. Not a polite request through Harrison, but a sharp, entitled yell that echoed from the master suite. "Sasha! Get up here! Now!" I dropped my cloth and hurried up the stairs, my heart doing that familiar, frantic dance. I found Victoria in her dressing room, surrounded by piles of silk, lace, and several open jewelry boxes. She looked like a queen amidst a hoard of gold, but her expression was anything but royal. She was fuming. "This room is a pigsty," she said, gesturing vaguely at a few stray threads on the carpet. "And my afternoon gown hasn't been steamed. Why are you standing there like a statue? Get to work." I
Forever Always Chapter 15: The Yesterday Uniform
The stone stairs felt like they were growing taller with every step I took. My lungs were burning, not just from the climb, but from the pure, icy terror that I was about to lose everything over a few hours of sleep I never intended to take. I reached the service door to the kitchen and pressed my ear against the wood. Silence, save for the low hum of the industrial refrigerator. I slipped inside, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I looked down at myself in the dim morning light filtering through the high windows. My black uniform was a disaster. There were wrinkles across the lap that no amount of smoothing could hide, and a faint, telltale smudge of dust from the cellar floor marred the hem. My hair felt like a bird’s nest, and my skin still carried the faint, lingering scent of Ethan’s cologne sandalwood and rain. I needed to get to the staff quarters, change, and be back before the first kettle was put on. I moved toward the back hallway, but the sound of the
Forever Always Chapter 14: The Quiet Hours
The house at night was a different beast entirely. During the day, it was a machine of polished surfaces and sharp commands, but after midnight, the shadows seemed to stretch and breathe. I waited until the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer was the only sound left before I crept out of my room. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs as I navigated the back service stairs, my bare feet silent on the cold stone. The wine cellar was tucked behind a heavy, reinforced oak door in the deepest part of the basement. When I pushed it open, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and aging oak. Ethan was already there. He was sitting on a wooden crate, a single dim bulb casting long, jagged shadows across the racks of dusty bottles. He looked different in the darkless like a Grant heir and more like the boy who had lost his parents at sixteen. He had a bottle open, but he wasn't drinking much; he was just staring at the label. "You actually came," he said, hi
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