CHAPTER TWO: Entering the Glass Fortress

The Hayes mansion doesn't look like a home. It looks like a threat.

Mom squeezes my hand as the car rolls through iron gates that probably cost more than our entire apartment building. The driveway curves for what feels like miles, lined with trees so perfectly manicured they might be fake. Everything here is too perfect. Too controlled. Like someone designed it to intimidate rather than welcome.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Mom's voice is breathy, awed.

I nod because I can't find words. The mansion rises ahead of us, all glass and stone and sharp angles that catch the afternoon sun like knives. It's beautiful the way a predator is beautiful. You admire it right up until it devours you.

The driver, a man in his fifties who hasn't spoken once during the hour-long ride, pulls up to the entrance. Marble steps lead to doors that belong in a cathedral. I count twelve windows just on the front facade. Twelve rooms I can see, and probably dozens I can't.

Adrian Hayes materializes at the top of the steps before we're even out of the car. He's wearing casual clothes, jeans and a button-down, but somehow he makes them look like a power suit. Everything about him is calculated. The smile that doesn't reach his eyes. The way he descends the steps with measured confidence. The hand he extends to my mother like he's granting her permission to enter his kingdom.

"Welcome home, darling." He kisses her cheek, and Mom practically glows.

Then his eyes shift to me. Blue. Cold. Assessing. "Aria. I hope the drive wasn't too uncomfortable."

"It was fine. Thank you." The words taste rehearsed in my mouth.

His smile widens, but something flickers behind it. Satisfaction, maybe. Like I've passed some small test I didn't know I was taking. "Come. Let me show you your new home."

The foyer swallows us whole. Marble floors stretch in every direction, reflecting chandeliers that probably require scaffolding to clean. A staircase sweeps upward, splitting into two wings at the landing. Everything echoes. My footsteps. Mom's delighted gasp. The hollow feeling in my chest.

A woman in a black uniform appears from nowhere. She's maybe sixty, with steel-gray hair pulled into a bun so tight it looks painful. Her face is carved from ice.

"This is Ms. Chen, our head housekeeper," Adrian says. "She'll show you to your rooms and familiarize you with the household."

Ms. Chen's eyes sweep over us. Over me, specifically. I feel dissected, categorized, filed away as lesser than. "This way," she says, and her voice matches her face. Cold. Unwelcoming.

We follow her up the staircase. Mom keeps whispering to Adrian, asking questions about the artwork, the furniture, everything. I catch fragments of his responses, each one delivered with that same calculated charm.

"The east wing is off-limits," Ms. Chen announces as we reach the landing. "Mr. Hayes and Mr. Lucian reside there. The west wing is yours." She glances at me. "Ground floor staff quarters, kitchen, and Mr. Hayes's study are also restricted without permission."

Restricted. The word hangs in the air like a warning.

"And Lucian?" Mom asks brightly. "I'd love for Aria to meet her new brother."

Brother. The word feels wrong in my mouth. I swallow it down.

"Master Lucian is currently out," Ms. Chen says, and something in her tone suggests she's relieved about that. "He has his own schedule."

Adrian's jaw tightens, just for a second. Then the mask slides back into place. "Lucian keeps busy with school and his own interests. I'm sure you'll meet him at dinner."

Ms. Chen leads me down the west wing while Mom goes with Adrian to see "their" room. The hallway feels endless, doors lining both sides like secrets waiting to be discovered. She stops at the second to last door on the right.

"Your room," she says, pushing it open.

I step inside and my breath catches. It's not a bedroom. It's a suite. Bigger than our entire apartment. A four-poster bed drowns in white linens. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook gardens that stretch toward infinity. There's a sitting area, a desk, a door that must lead to a bathroom.

"Dinner is at seven," Ms. Chen says from the doorway. "Don't be late. Mr. Hayes values punctuality." She pauses, and for the first time, something almost human crosses her face. "A word of advice. Stay in the west wing. Don't go exploring. The house has rules for a reason."

Before I can ask what that means, she's gone.

I'm alone in this enormous room that smells like expensive nothing. No vanilla candles. No old books. No Dad.

I walk to the window and press my palm against the glass. Cold. Everything here is cold. From somewhere in the house, I hear voices. Laughter. Mom's laughter, specifically, light and carefree.

She sounds happy.

I should be happy for her.

Instead, I'm staring at my reflection in the window, at the girl who doesn't belong in places like this, and wondering why Ms. Chen looked at me like she was delivering a warning instead of household rules.

My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number: Welcome to the family.

I stare at it, my heart suddenly racing. Adrian? The staff?

Another message appears: We should talk before dinner. Come to the east wing. Last door on the left. Tell no one.

My fingers hover over the keyboard. I should ask who this is. I should ignore it completely.

But my instincts, the ones that have been screaming since yesterday, go quiet. Like whatever danger I've been sensing just introduced itself.

I text back: Who is this?

Three dots. Then: Your new brother. We need to discuss the rules if you're going to survive this house.

I look at the door Ms. Chen just walked through. The forbidden east wing beckons, and I can feel it, that pull toward something I should definitely avoid.

The smart thing would be to stay here. Unpack. Wait for dinner.

But I've never been good at doing the smart thing.