Chapter 3

Kyra

At 6:45 p.m., I finished getting dressed.

Simple. Discreet. A plain black dress that didn’t draw too much attention, but still defined my waist with a certain elegance. I pinned my hair into a low bun, as if that could make me look more professional and less… vulnerable. The clock on the wall read 6:58 p.m. when I left my room and walked toward the dining room.

The table was already set. Napkins perfectly folded. Cutlery aligned like in a catalog. The kind of organization that didn’t allow for mistakes. Not even noise. And the kind of thing I wasn’t entirely used to dealing with.

Julie was already seated at one end. She wore a light dress, her hair perfectly brushed. But her expression was the same as in the morning: distant. Observant. Silent. Liam appeared two minutes later. Calm, unhurried. As if time was on his side and we were at his mercy.

— Punctual again — he said, pulling out the head chair. — You’re already doing better than the others.

— The others? — I asked before I could stop myself. My tone sounded too curious. — Sorry!

— The other candidates — he replied, as he poured water for Julie. — None of them lasted more than a week in this house. Don’t ask me why, because I’d like to know too.

I sat in silence, trying to hide the knot forming in my stomach. Julie began to move her food around without much appetite. Liam, on the other hand, cut his meat with surgical precision, as if each piece had to be exactly the same size.

— How is the food, Julie? — I asked, trying to build some kind of connection. But I immediately felt like an idiot.

She looked at me, expressionless, and replied in an almost inaudible tone:

— The same as yesterday. There’s no difference.

Liam smiled. But it wasn’t a sweet smile. It was the kind of smile of someone who understands the games that silent words play. After all, she was his daughter. She must have some of his personality.

— She has a gustatory memory — he explained. — And little patience for small courtesies.

I took a deep breath and returned to my plate. I could feel his eyes on me. Testing me. Measuring every gesture. As if I were a piece on his chessboard.

— Did you read all the instructions? — he asked, without looking away.

— Twice — I replied. — As you ordered.

— And did you understand all of them?

I nodded.

— Some seemed more… personal than professional. But yes, I understood them perfectly, sir.

He rested his elbows on the table. His sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing pale, strong skin. His presence was… immense. As if it took all the air around us.

— Everything in this house is personal, Kyra. And if you haven’t understood that yet, you will with time.

A shiver ran down my spine. Julie, curiously, didn’t react. She simply watched, her spoon frozen in midair, as if she were watching a film where adults say strange things.

— You said my role was to take care of Julie — I replied, cautiously.

— And it is. But I take care of those who take care of her. — He leaned in slightly. — If you’re not balanced… she feels it. And so do I.

The air seemed trapped between the three of us. As if no one could even sigh without breaking the invisible order Liam imposed with his words. He finished dinner before everyone else. Wiped his lips with the napkin and stood up with the exact elegance of someone who is never contradicted.

— Kyra, come with me before you retire.

Julie didn’t even blink. I stood, confused, but followed him down the hallway. He stopped in front of the white door at the end—the same one that hadn’t been opened before.

— The rules are kept here. I thought you had read them.

He unlocked the door. Inside, there were no papers. There were… items. Too personal.

Collars. Handcuffs. Masks. A small dark leather sofa. A wardrobe filled with fine fabric clothing and cuts far too bold to be worn as uniforms.

— This… isn’t part of the job with Julie — I whispered, in shock. — I’m sorry, Mr. Blackthorne if I’ve broken any rule so soon.

— Not yet — he replied, his voice lower, rougher. — But it is part of the contract if you accept, of course.

I swallowed hard.

— I never… agreed to this. I’m sorry for the question, but now I understand why they all left.

— I never proposed this to anyone, Miss. But I know people by their eyes, and yours seemed too tempting not to ask.

He closed the door slowly. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t get too close. But he stood there, at the edge between control and provocation.

— Anyway… don’t take it personally. Now you understand why this is a room no one enters.

And then he left. Leaving the door locked. And my heart racing too fast for the silence of the house that was frighteningly quiet.

After Liam disappeared down the hallway, my body took time to relax. I placed a hand over my chest. My heart was still racing as if it wanted to escape before I did. What was that room? What did he really want from me? And why did he show me that? I don’t care. None of that interests me.

I took a deep breath and returned to the living room, expecting to find Julie in the same place—but she wasn’t there. The table had already been cleared by someone I didn’t even see pass by. Silence. Again, that strange silence of this house where even footsteps seem ashamed to echo. I walked down the hallway and found Julie’s bedroom door slightly ajar. I knocked softly and opened it a little.

— Julie? — I called before stepping in.

— Come in — she said in a low voice, muffled by the pillow. — It’s open.

I stepped in slowly. She was lying on her side, hugging a stuffed animal. Her eyes glowed in the dim light. Only the faint glow of the bedside lamp far from the bed.

— Are you okay? Do you like stories?

She nodded.

— Can you tell me a story? A real one?

The question caught me off guard. Not because of its simplicity, but because of the unexpected sweetness in her voice.

— I can. What kind of story do you want to hear? Do you have a favorite?

Julie pulled the blanket up to her chin.

— A good story. Not about monsters. A story where someone feels safe. I don’t have a favorite. No one tells me stories. Only my father.

Safe. The word cut through me.

The daughter of a billionaire with all the money in the world asking for safety from a nanny like it was an impossible treasure.

— Alright… — I sat on the edge of the bed — I’ll tell you about a girl named Lía, who lived in a forest where everything was silent. She heard the birds, the wind, the branches, but no one spoke to her…

As I spoke, I saw Julie’s eyes grow heavier. Her breathing slowed. At some point in the story, she reached out her little hand and held mine. We stayed like that. Me sitting, her sleeping. Until I felt my own eyes grow heavy. And without realizing it, I lay down beside her, still holding her hand.

Liam

It was already past midnight when I decided to check if everything was in order. It was an old habit. A kind of obsessive compulsion disguised as responsibility. Silently, I crossed the hallway. The light in Julie’s room was still on, dim. I knocked twice, as I always did. No response.

I opened the door and froze at the scene. Kyra was sleeping beside my daughter, her body curved toward hers. Their hands intertwined. The expression… peaceful. Something Julie rarely showed. For a moment, something tightened in my chest. That… wasn’t part of the rules.

No employee had ever gotten that close.

None had touched Julie. None had been allowed to. But she… she did it without asking.

And Julie allowed it, without even questioning her.

I stood there, still, for too long. Watching. Trying to understand why that image disturbed me more than it should. Kyra is crossing boundaries. But why does it feel so right… so inevitable?

I closed the door slowly. Without sound. Without reaction.

Without breaking the bond that, even in sleep, was beginning to form between my daughter and her gentle nanny.