Chapter 6- Coming Home

Aria's POV 

Mrs. Lang informed the staff at breakfast that Mr. Julian Vance would be returning to Chicago at the end of the week.

The air in the house changed the moment the words left her mouth.

It was subtle at first — a shift in the way people moved, the way conversations dropped when someone entered a room. Then it became impossible to ignore. Evelyn’s already sharp standards climbed to impossible heights. Every surface had to gleam as if human hands had never touched it. The silver needed polishing twice a day instead of once. The floors had to be waxed until they reflected the chandeliers perfectly. Meals that had once been merely excellent now had to be executed with the precision of a five-star restaurant. Even the flowers in every room were ordered to be replaced daily, no matter the cost.

Sienna spent hours in front of different mirrors throughout the house, trying on dresses and practicing the exact smile she would wear when her brother walked through the door. It was warm. Sisterly. Carefully calculated to hide the sharp edges underneath. I caught her once in the hallway practicing the expression in a gilt-framed mirror, her eyes cold even while her mouth curved upward. When she noticed me watching, the smile vanished completely.

“Something you need, Aria?” she asked, voice sweet and dangerous.

“No, Miss Vance,” I answered quickly and kept walking.

Lila cornered me in the pantry later that morning while I was inventorying the dry goods. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and dark amusement.

“The prince is coming home,” she whispered, even though we were alone. “Things are about to get very interesting. Or significantly worse. Knowing this family, probably worse. But at least it won’t be boring.”

I kept counting bags of rice and flour because it was safer than looking at her and letting the sudden spike of anxiety show on my face. “Interesting how?”

“Julian’s different,” Lila said, leaning against the shelves. “I’ve only seen him a handful of times over the years when he visited, but the staff talk. He’s cold, yes. Ruthless when it comes to business. Those blue eyes of his can shut down a room faster than his mother’s voice. But he doesn’t enjoy hurting people the way they do. He doesn’t collect pain like Sienna does. That might be good for you. Or it might just mean he’ll look the other way to keep the peace. Hard to say with rich men.”

I finished the inventory in silence. The numbers blurred slightly in front of my eyes. Four days. Only four days until he returned. The thought should have brought relief. Instead it settled in my stomach like a stone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of extra work. Evelyn ordered the entire formal dining room rearranged. Then she decided the arrangement was wrong and had us move everything back. Sienna “accidentally” spilled a glass of water on the freshly polished table and watched with open amusement while I cleaned it. Vivian had not yet arrived, but her name was already being spoken in the halls like a promise of more trouble to come.

That evening, after the dinner service was finished and the kitchen had finally gone quiet, I found myself standing alone in the staff hallway with a stack of clean linens in my arms. The house felt heavier than usual. Even the silence seemed to be waiting for something.

Lila appeared beside me without sound, as she often did.

“You’re thinking too hard,” she said. “I can practically hear it.”

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Liar.” She took some of the linens from me. “You’re wondering what happens when he gets here. Whether he’ll notice. Whether he’ll care. Whether it’ll make things better or a hundred times worse.”

I didn’t answer. There was no point denying it.

“Whatever happens,” Lila continued, her voice lower now, “don’t let them see you hope. Hope is the first thing they go after in this house.”

I carried the rest of the linens upstairs in silence.

That night I stood at my small window looking out over the alley and the distant lights of the city that never really slept. Somewhere out there, Julian Vance was packing to come home. He didn’t know what waited for him inside these walls. He didn’t know the quiet girl who had once given his mother blood was still here, still surviving, still trying not to break. He couldn’t know. And even if he found out, there was no guarantee he would care enough to change anything.

I touched the small scar on my left wrist — the one from a childhood accident I barely remembered — and made a quiet, desperate promise to myself in the dark.

Survive until he arrives.  

Then decide if staying under this roof is still worth the cost.

The wind outside howled between the tall buildings like something alive and hungry. I closed the window against the cold, climbed carefully into bed, and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

In four days, the man with the cold blue eyes would walk through the front door of this beautiful prison.

I had no idea whether his return would save me… or simply give the people who enjoyed breaking me new and more creative ways to do it.

Sleep, when it finally came, was thin and restless.