MasukIt was dusk now and Alice had insisted on reorganizing her toy shelf herself, which meant the entire room was strewn with books, stuffed animals, and a scattering of building blocks. I was crouched on the floor, trying to persuade her to focus on the top shelves without knocking over the rest, when I heard Ace’s voice behind me.“You might need a hand with that.”I froze, my chest tightening. He was standing in the doorway, tall and composed, as always, but there was a softness to his tone I hadn’t noticed before. My head flicked up, and I met his eyes for the briefest second before quickly looking away, pretending to examine a leaning stack of blocks.“I’ve got it,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “It’s… it’s fine.”He stepped closer, and I could feel the shift in the room. His presence was magnetic, pulling at me in a way I hadn’t expected. “You’ve got some… creative organization going on here.” His lips tilted just slightly, the hint of a smile, and I caught myself staring. No
Alice was sitting on the living room rug, surrounded by her scattered toys, while I tried to herd the chaos into some kind of order without stepping on tiny plastic blocks.“Careful, Alice,” I said, lifting a toy from underfoot. “We don’t want any broken pieces before breakfast.”She giggled, her small hands clapping together. “I didn’t break it, Lily!”I smiled, ruffling her curls. Her laughter was always bright, pure, a tiny bubble of happiness that somehow made the house feel lighter. But even in that warmth, I could feel the tension that always lingered here when Ace was around. His presence had a way of threading through the air, sharp and controlled, like a silent warning.I hadn’t seen him yet today, and I was secretly grateful for the calm.Then the soft click of the front door made me freeze. My stomach tightened, and I instinctively straightened my posture. Ace stepped in, his tall frame filling the doorway, the shadow of his presence somehow sharper than the sunlight. He ca
The smell of toast and coffee filled the kitchen as I helped Alice with her breakfast, guiding her tiny hands as she tried to butter a slice of bread without making a mess. She hummed softly, completely absorbed, and for a moment, the tension of the past day faded. I smiled faintly, enjoying the simple normalcy.“You’ve got it, Alice. Steady,” I said, leaning over to steady her hands.“Like this?” she asked, eyes wide and earnest.“Perfect,” I said, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.The front door clicked open, and I froze mid-motion, my heart giving a tiny, startled leap. It wasn’t Alice’s grandmother this time. I hadn’t expected anyone else.And then I saw her.She walked in like she owned the house, tall and impossibly poised. Her red hair was a cascade of curls that framed her smooth, flawless skin. She moved with a confidence that made the air feel thinner, like gravity had shifted just for her. Every step was deliberate, every glance measured. She looked like she had walk
Alice returned home that morning, hand in hand with her grandmother, the sound of tiny sneakers padding softly across the marble floor. Margaret opened the door before I could reach it, her expression carefully neutral, though I sensed the usual quiet tension she carried whenever anyone from Ace’s inner circle visited.“Good morning, Lily,” Margaret said. “Alice is back with Mrs. Whitmore.”I nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you. I’ll take her from here.”Mrs. Whitmore didn’t even glance at me. She simply handed Alice over and offered a curt, “She’s all yours,” before leaving, her heels clicking down the hall and away. Alice bounced toward me, chattering about her morning with her grandmother, completely oblivious to the subtle tension left in the air.I knelt down, gathering her into my arms. “Welcome back, Alice. Did you have fun with Grandma?”“Yes! We baked cookies!” she exclaimed, hugging me tightly.I smiled, masking the knot of nerves in my stomach. Everything seemed fine
The morning passed too smoothly—no sharp words from Ace, no clipped orders, no tension snapping like a wire pulled too tight. He barely looked at me during breakfast, his attention absorbed by his phone, his posture rigid and contained. If I hadn’t known him better—or at least thought I did—I might have mistaken it for consideration.By late afternoon, that illusion shattered.“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he said, appearing in the doorway of the sitting room where I’d been pretending to read. “Get your coat.”I looked up, startled. “Leaving? Where?”“A meeting.”“I’m not—”“You are.” His tone left no room for argument. “Security protocol.”My stomach tightened. “Alice—”“Is not coming,” he cut in. “She’s already accounted for.”The finality in his voice told me this decision had been made long before he’d informed me. I closed the book slowly, forcing my hands to stay steady.“Okay,” I said, because arguing with Ace Grant was like throwing pebbles at a locked door.The car waited o
The house never fully relaxed after the lockdown.Everything worked, of course—the lights, the security systems, the quiet efficiency of staff moving through their routines—but there was a tautness beneath it all, like a muscle that hadn’t unclenched. Or maybe that was just me.I felt it in small ways. The way my shoulders stayed lifted even when I was alone. The way I flinched at sudden sounds. The way I kept thinking about the safe room, about walls that felt closer than they should have.I told myself it was nothing. Just residual nerves.That lie didn’t last long.Late afternoon bled into evening, and I was folding linens in the service corridor when Margaret found me.“Mr. Grant asked for you,” she said, her expression neutral but curious. “In his study.”My fingers tightened around the towel in my hands.“Did he say what for?”“No.” A pause. “He seemed…impatient.”Of course he did.I stacked the linens neatly, smoothing the top one twice before turning away. My pulse quickened a
The airport looked different from the last time I’d been in one.Maybe it was the tinted window of the luxury car making everything feel distant and unreal.Maybe it was because this day felt like a line drawn in my life, everything behind me was dimming, everything ahead too bright to look at.Whe
By the time Emma pulled the car into our small driveway, the adrenaline had long drained out of my body. What remained was a dull, dragging exhaustion that sat heavy in my bones, like someone had filled my limbs with wet sand.My legs still trembled when I stepped out, and my head swam. I blamed th
The night air felt colder than I expected.Not the kind of cold that bit at your skin, but the kind that sank deeper, into your ribs, into your spine, into the places exhaustion already carved hollow.My backpack weighed almost nothing, yet my shoulders ached as if I’d carried my entire life inside
The world was a whirl of movement and voices I couldn’t separate—shouts, footsteps, the rushing sound of blood in my ears. My body felt like it was splitting open from the inside, a deep, raw pressure pushing downward again and again with no mercy, no pause, no space to breathe.Emma’s arm was wrap







