Chapter 4

Kevin had visited the Fenrir estate several times over the past two years, and each visit had followed a familiar pattern. Camille would greet him enthusiastically, insist on accompanying him around the grounds, and spend most of their time together discussing things that rarely interested him.

Today was no exception.

As they walked through the garden, Camille chatted about the flowers being arranged for tomorrow's celebration, a dress she had ordered from Paris, and an argument between two servants over the seating arrangements. She occasionally laughed at her own stories, looking up at Kevin as though she expected him to find every detail equally entertaining.

Kevin listened patiently, offering a brief response whenever she paused.

He had never been particularly interested in these conversations, but Camille occupied a special place in his life. Two years earlier, when he had been seriously injured during an attack, she had supposedly found him and arranged for his rescue. Without that intervention, he might not have survived.

He owed her his life, and Hayes had never been a man who forgot his debts.

Still, whenever Camille spoke excitedly about their future, he found himself wondering whether gratitude was truly the same as love.

He cared about her, certainly, and he had grown accustomed to protecting her whenever her health deteriorated. But the affection he felt was closer to what he might have felt for a younger sister than for a woman he wanted to marry.

If Camille genuinely wished to become his wife, he supposed he could accept that arrangement. Marriage had always been a matter of family interests in their world, and spending his life looking after someone who had saved him did not seem an unreasonable way to repay her kindness.

Yet today, his thoughts repeatedly returned to the hallway window.

He could still picture the pale face that had appeared behind the glass and, more disturbingly, the eyes that had looked at him.

Those eyes were almost identical to the ones he remembered from the night of his injury.

For two years, Kevin had assumed the memory was nothing more than a confused fragment of a dream. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, barely aware of his surroundings, and the doctors had warned him that his recollections might be unreliable.

But what if he had actually seen someone that night?

What if the woman whose eyes had stayed with him was real?

"Kevin, are you listening?" Camille's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned toward her and noticed the slight disappointment on her face.

"I'm sorry," he replied, offering a reassuring smile. "I was thinking about something. What were you saying?"

Camille brightened immediately and began explaining the decorations again. They had nearly reached the fountain when Marcus approached from the mansion.

"Camille, Father wants to discuss tomorrow's arrangements with you," he said. "Could you come inside for a moment?"

Camille looked reluctant to leave Kevin, but after he assured her that he would be fine on his own, she followed Marcus toward the house.

Once they were out of earshot, Kevin turned to the man walking several steps behind him.

"Levi."

Levi Carter, his trusted assistant, immediately approached.

"Find out who was standing at the hallway window when we arrived," Kevin instructed quietly. "A young woman. She disappeared before I could get a proper look at her."

Levi glanced toward the mansion. "Are you sure you want me to find a young woman now? You are going to marry Camille months later."

"Just go."

Meanwhile, in the servants' building, Evelyn Fenrir sat on the edge of her narrow bed, staring at the bucket beside the bathtub.

She had refused Camille's offer to use her former bedroom, and even now, she did not regret it.

The thought of entering that room, seeing Camille's belongings where her own had once been, and pretending to appreciate another favor was more than she could bear.

She wanted to stay as far away from Camille as possible.

If the price of the accident three years ago was supposed to be three years of abuse and imprisonment, Evelyn wished she had never become involved in any of it. She had already paid with her freedom, her health, and nearly her life, yet everyone still behaved as though she owed Camille more.

Eventually, Evelyn filled the bathtub with cold water.

The first touch against her skin made her shiver violently. Her joints ached from years of working outdoors, and the bruises covering her body protested every movement, but she forced herself to wash away the dirt that still clung to her.

As she carefully cleaned the cuts along her arms, she remembered how eagerly she had imagined returning home. She had believed the moment she walked through the mansion doors, everything would finally be different.

Instead, her family had barely acknowledged her arrival. Her childhood bedroom belonged to Camille, her engagement was being handed over without her consent, and Marcus had ordered the servants to deny her hot water. 

She had survived the farm because she believed there was still somewhere she belonged. Now she was beginning to understand that the home she had struggled to return to no longer existed.

Evelyn lowered her head, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

She could not tell whether the pain in her chest came from the three years she had spent suffering at the prison farm or from discovering that the people she loved had deliberately allowed it to happen.

Perhaps the second hurt more.

After drying herself with an old towel, she put on the clean clothes Walter had brought and climbed into bed.

Exhaustion pulled her into sleep almost immediately.

But even in sleep, the prison farm refused to release her.

She dreamed she was lying in the filthy cattle shed where the guards had sometimes forced her to spend the night. The straw beneath her smelled of damp earth and animal waste, and mosquitoes swarmed around her face, biting every patch of exposed skin.

The dream shifted, and suddenly it was winter.

An icy wind slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls, making her entire body tremble. Her fingers were stiff and swollen from washing the guards' clothes in freezing water, while the old injuries in her knees and wrists throbbed with a pain that never seemed to disappear.

A guard entered the shed carrying a whip, his expression twisted with impatience. "Get up! Do you think you can sleep all day?"

Evelyn tried to move, but her limbs would not obey her. The guard raised his whip, and she instinctively curled into herself, begging him to stop. 

When the whip came down, Evelyn jerked awake with a strangled gasp.

She sat upright in the darkness, clutching the blanket while her heart hammered against her ribs. For several terrifying seconds, she could still smell the cattle shed and hear the guard's voice.

Then she recognized the unfamiliar curtains and the narrow wardrobe beside the bed.

She was at the Fenrir estate.

Evelyn pressed a trembling hand against her chest and waited until her breathing gradually slowed.

She had no idea how long she had slept, but the sky outside had darkened, and her stomach was cramping painfully.

She had eaten almost nothing since leaving the farm.

After sitting quietly for several minutes, she forced herself out of bed and headed toward the stairs, hoping to find something in the kitchen.

However, when she reached the end of the fourth-floor corridor, she discovered that the wooden door separating the stairwell from the servants' quarters had been locked.

Evelyn tried the handle twice before letting go.

Marcus had ordered her to remain in the servants' quarters, but she had not realized he intended to lock her inside.

She was considering returning to her room when she heard someone approaching from the opposite corridor.

A young maid was sweeping the floor, humming quietly to herself.

"Excuse me," Evelyn called, her voice hoarse from sleep. "Could you please bring me some bread? I haven't eaten today."

The maid looked up, surprised.

Her name was Sophie Miller, and she had only recently started working at the estate. Seeing Evelyn's plain clothing and exhausted appearance, she assumed she was another new servant.

"Why are you stuck up here?" Sophie asked, noticing the locked door. "Did someone lock you in as a joke?"

Evelyn hesitated.

Sophie sighed before she could answer. "Some of the older staff think it's funny to play tricks on newcomers. Don't worry, it happens all the time."

She took a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

"There you go. You can get something yourself from the kitchen. There should be plenty of leftovers from dinner."

Evelyn thanked her sincerely and hurried downstairs.

When she reached the main building, warm light spilled from the sitting room, accompanied by the sound of relaxed conversation.

Marcus, Camille, and Kevin were seated together, enjoying the evening's dinner gathering. Camille was smiling as she spoke, while Marcus occasionally added something that made her laugh.

Evelyn stopped in the shadows.

For a moment, she watched them through the doorway, remembering how she had once sat in that same room with her family.

Then she quietly turned away.

She slipped into the kitchen through the service entrance, careful not to attract anyone's attention.

Several plates of leftover food had been placed near the sink, waiting to be thrown away. There were pieces of roasted meat, cold vegetables, and half-eaten portions of bread.

To Evelyn, it looked like a feast.

She picked up a piece of bread and began eating immediately, barely stopping to chew before reaching for another. Her stomach protested after so many days of hunger, but she could not make herself slow down.

At the prison farm, food could disappear within seconds. She had learned to eat whenever she had the chance, because there was never any guarantee of another meal.

She was reaching for a piece of cold meat when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Evelyn froze.

Standing in the kitchen doorway was Julian Fenrir, her twin brother.

Three years ago, Julian had testified that Evelyn deliberately tampered with the equipment involved in Camille's accident. His testimony had helped send her to the farm, and throughout her imprisonment, Evelyn had never received a single letter from him.

Now he was staring at her with open disgust.

"Evelyn?" Julian's eyes moved from her face to the scraps of food in her hands. His expression darkened. "You've only been home a few hours, and you're already sneaking around like a thief?"