Chapter 4

Elara

I have never been so happy in my life, that too over getting a job. 

A real job.

A paid job. 

A job that came without the long, awkward questions or silent judgments. No resumes. No last minute apologies. I wasn't even interviewed.

No questions. No tests. No references. 

It feels like a miracle. And after everything I’d been through, I was more than willing to believe in miracles.

I followed Caelum, I think his name was, through the mansion’s long hallway, still a little dazed by how quickly everything had unfolded. My shoes barely made a sound against the polished floors. The place was huge and cold in the kind of way expensive things always were. I couldn’t imagine living here alone.

We stopped in front of a door.

He knocked once, then pushed it open.

Inside, a young boy stood in the center of the room. His green eyes lifted to meet mine. He had dark hair that fell just over his forehead. He looked about six or seven.

Caelum gestures between us. "Auron, this is your new nanny, Elara. Elara, this is Auron.”

The boy looked up at me with his big green eyes. He had dark hair that fell just over his forehead. He couldn’t have been older than six, maybe seven.

The boy just… stared. And then— 

He smiled. Barely. But it reached his eyes.

“Hi,” I said gently, offering him a smile in return

"I never said I needed a nanny," Auron said suddenly, and my smile faltered.

Oh no. 

Am I already losing the job?

“Uhh… well…” Caelum rubbed the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard.

"But I’ll let it go," Auron added quickly, his voice lighter. "Because I like her."

I blinked. Caelum blinked too.

He looked at the boy, clearly surprised. “You… like her?”

Auron shrugged, like it was obvious.

Caelum’s gaze shifted to me. His brow furrowed, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that didn’t make sense.

“Huh,” he muttered. “That’s… surprising.”

“Is it?” I asked, glancing between them, unsure if I had already broken some unspoken rule.

“He doesn’t warm up to strangers,” Caelum said. “Ever. Especially not this fast.” 

Then, a pause. 

“But I’m glad.”

Auron had already wandered back to his seat and started flipping through a book like our meeting had never happened.

Caelum turned back to me with a faint smile. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Caelum didn’t say much as we walked down another hallway. We stopped in front of a door near the end of the west wing.

“This will be your room,” he said, turning the handle and stepping aside to let me in first. “It’s close to Auron’s. If he needs anything during the night, he’ll probably come looking for you.”

I stepped inside and looked around, trying not to gape.

The room was beautiful. Warm sunlight poured in through the tall window, spilling across a neatly made bed with pale sheets and a thick duvet. There was a small writing desk in the corner, a soft rug underfoot, and a wardrobe tucked neatly beside the wall.

“If you need anything, there’s a bell by the door. Someone will come. Settle in. Dinner’s at eight.”

“Thank you.”

He lingered for a second longer, eyes scanning my face like he was about to say something else. But then he just nodded again and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

I stood in the middle of the room, letting the silence settle around me.

I had my own space. A real bed. A door that locked.

I ran my fingers lightly across the edge of the desk, just to prove it was real. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I was intruding. I wasn’t waiting to be yelled at or ordered out. No one was watching me with disdain.

I let out a slow breath and turned in a slow circle, taking it all in again.

I walked over to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. Empty, of course. But clean. The faint scent of cedarwood drifted out. It felt strange, having space to put my things. Mine.

I glanced at the small bag still hanging off my shoulder and gave a quiet sigh of relief.

Thank God I packed.

Not that I had much to begin with. My stepmother and her precious daughter made sure of that. They burned most of my clothes last winter. Said I didn’t deserve them. Said I needed to learn my place.

I learned it, alright. Then I decided to leave it behind.

The few things I managed to save were in that bag, folded tightly, hidden under my bed for weeks, waiting for this moment.

I pulled the strap over my head and set the bag on the bed, careful not to wrinkle the perfect duvet. Then I sat beside it, my fingers curling into the edge of the mattress.

I let my fingers wander over the bedspread, the unfamiliar texture of comfort. Then I moved to the desk by the window, sliding open the drawers. Also empty. The wood was smooth and freshly polished, no dust in sight.

Then I stood in front of the mirror. It was large and clear, framed in deep mahogany. I stared at my reflection, almost unsure if it was really me. I looked... softer in this light. Less broken.

I leaned in slightly, then froze.

There was a shadow behind me.

A tall one.

I spun around.

Nothing.

My heart thudded in my chest. I stepped forward and checked the space near the door. Still nothing.

Just me

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest. “Probably just stress,” I muttered. “Sleep deprived hallucinations.”

Still, I gave the mirror a wary glance before moving back to the bed. I sank down slowly, my muscles protesting from how tightly I’d been holding myself together all day.

The sheets were warm. Too soft. The kind of softness that could make you forget pain. Make you forget you didn’t belong.

My fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

I should be happy. I should feel lucky.

But all I could hear was that woman’s voice.

"Once you enter their world, you will never leave it.”

I laid back and stared at the ceiling.

Yeah.

I just need a nap.

A long, dreamless nap.