Chapter 5: “The Loyal Enemy Arrives”

Frieda’s POV

I ran back to my room, my heart still pounding fast from seeing Garrett in the library. 

My fingers were shaking hard as I unfolded the piece of paper he had pushed into my hand. It was tiny, the kind of fancy note paper Michael used for quick messages in his study.

The words weren't Garrett's. It was the same secret note I had found before, slipped under my door when Michael was hurt: "Don't trust the doctor. I'm watching you."

My head started spinning. Garrett had told me to run, but he hadn't written this. He was just the delivery boy. This meant there was someone else hidden in the house, watching me and watching Michael. 

Someone knew the doctor lied about Michael being hurt. This house held secrets that were much bigger and deeper than I knew.

I had two people who might help me, or two people who might hurt me, and I felt sick because I couldn't tell which was which. I felt like a doll, but maybe someone else was, too.

I needed to talk to Garrett again right away. I couldn't just ignore his warning. 

I waited for hours, watching the security screens in my room. Finally, I saw him walking alone near the big hedge maze outside.

I quickly slipped out and met him in the darkest shadow of a huge old oak tree. The smell of wet dirt helped hide the fear that was sticking to me.

"Who wrote the note?" I whispered, holding the crumpled paper up between us.

He didn't take the note. He just looked at it, his face hard and worried. He shook his head slowly. "I don't know that writing, Frieda. I promise I don't. But I know what it means. You have to leave. Michael is not right. This whole thing is a trap, and you are the bait he is using."

His honesty felt so strong it was almost painful. It was the only real thing I had seen since I moved into this terrible mansion years ago.

I felt the powerful, sudden feeling of love I had felt the night before. This man, who was forced to use me with his twin, was risking everything to tell me the truth. He was my true love. I knew it in my heart with a feeling that was stronger than anything I could explain.

"Why are you here, Garrett?" I asked, keeping my voice low. It shook because I was so desperate to know the answer. "If you know it's a trap, why are you staying? Why are you helping him hurt me?"

The pain showed clearly on his perfect face. It was like a heavy cloud. He didn't look like a guard or a bad guy; he looked like a prisoner himself, his body stiff and ready for a fight. 

He turned his head away, looking into the dark maze. He couldn't look me in the eye when he told me his biggest secret.

"I have reasons I have to stay," he whispered, his voice rough and tired. "People, I have to keep safe. People who are also trapped, just like you are. My loyalty is not to Michael C. Van Leer, Frieda. It is only about staying alive. For me, and for them."

He didn't say more, but the hint about his family being held hostage was clear and heavy. 

He was forced into this life. He confirmed everything I had felt about him: he was Michael’s enemy, forced to work for him, risking everything just to give me one warning. 

I saw the real pain in his eyes, which was the total opposite of the mean fun I saw in Alvin's eyes. My gut feeling that Garrett was the one true, good person in this house became rock-hard. 

If I were going to fight Michael, I was going to fight for both of us to be free.

I knew I couldn't trust him with all my secrets, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He was my protector, even if he didn't want the job.

Over the next few days, the feeling of pressure in the house got much worse. 

The mansion felt like a spring pulled too tight. Michael spent hours with his staff, but he was always talking to the Maid. I watched them in the service hallway. I saw Michael's everyday meanness. He treated the Maid like a pet. 

She was a quiet woman, small, with light, plain hair, and she was always standing near the stairs. Michael touched her arm or her neck sometimes, which was weird for a boss. He would whisper something to her, and her face would turn red with crazy excitement.

The Maid, in return, was completely obsessed with the twins, especially Garrett. She would stare at Garrett and Alvin with long, ugly looks whenever they walked past. 

Her small eyes were filled with a desperate jealousy. It proved Michael's terrible prediction was right: he loved the jealousy, the competition, and the pain he created in everyone around him. He was a collector of broken things that he enjoyed watching fight.

On Friday afternoon, Michael called a meeting in the grand salon. It was mandatory. Everyone had to be there: all the main staff, me, the twins, and the Maid. It felt like a king calling everyone to watch him give a terrible order.

Michael sat like a king in his special chair, his face smooth and full of himself. 

He started bragging about how quickly he had gotten better and how important his empire was. He said he had complex travel plans and needed everyone to keep silent. 

He talked for twenty minutes about how successful his companies were and how important it was for everyone to see him and me as a perfect couple.

"Because I need more time to recover and because my business schedule is so busy," Michael announced, his eyes moving around the room until they stopped on me with a mean, planning smile, "the mansion needs more comfort. It needs someone permanent here to plan my parties, and most importantly, to make sure my wife stays… busy and well."

He stopped for a long time, letting the silence get sharp and difficult. My stomach twisted with a terrible fear. 

Was he bringing in another bodyguard? Another person for the West Wing? The choices were endless, and every one of them was scary.

He nodded toward the huge front doors. The head housekeeper, looking very nervous, hurried to open them.

I stood straight, my shoulders tight. I expected some big, important business person or maybe another one of Michael's secret guards, another threat to my body and my peace.

Instead, the woman who walked through the doors was beautiful and graceful, moving with the soft, sneaky way of a wild animal. 

She was wearing a dress of pure white silk that was the complete opposite of my required black clothes, a clear and deliberate slap in my face. 

She was beautiful, calm, and terribly familiar. She walked in with the calm look of a hunter, and the smile she wore was cold and planned out. It was the same cold, mean smile Michael wore when he was about to hurt someone.

I stared at her. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My whole world broke down into one single, terrible realization.

It was Serena. My own sister, Serena Enriquez.

Her smile was aimed at Michael, fake and loving, but her eyes, cold and empty, met mine across the room. 

There was no warmth, no comfort from my sister, no memory of being family. Only open war and a scary, cold plan.

The look says it all: she didn't come here to visit. She came here to take my place. Michael’s mistress has arrived, and I know that my own sister has sold me out.