Chapter 2

The rising sun made the grey stone look colder in the vale estate. 

I woke up at 7:00 AM, my heart already racing before my eyes even opened. For a split second, I forgot where I was. Then, the smell hit me, expensive floor wax and the faint, bitter scent of old paper. I wasn't in our cramped, one-bedroom apartment with the leaky faucet anymore. I was in the sub-level of a fortress.

Beside me, Leo was still dead to the world, his small arm flung over his head. I reached out and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. A lump forming in my throat, he looked so much like Sarah when he slept. Every time I felt a flicker of fear, I just thought of  him, he was my armor. 

"Claire?" Leo’s voice was tiny, thick with sleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, looking around the small, windowless room with confusion. "Are we staying here now?"

"Just for a little while, baby," I said, forcing a smile I didn't feel. "Remember the rules? We have to be very, very quiet, like we’re playing hide-and-seek. No talking to strangers or running about.”

"Is the scary man here?"

My breath hitched. "Which scary man?"

"The one from the window last night," Leo murmured.

I froze. I hadn't told him about any figure and he had been asleep or so I thought. I pulled him close, kissing the top of his head. "No scary man is here and I’ll keep you safe. I promise."

I dressed him quickly in his cleanest clothes and made sure he had his favorite toy truck to keep him occupied. I knew I had to find him something to eat before my shift started at nine.

Taking a deep breath, I cracked the door to our room. The library was a cavern of shadows in the early morning light, the towering shelves felt like giants standing in judgment. I led Leo by the hand, creeping toward the hidden elevator. My plan was simple, get to the kitchen, grab some milk and bread, and get back down before the keeper of the House decide to descend.

The elevator climbed with a soft, stomach-flipping hum. When the doors opened into the main hallway, I was greeted by the sight of Mrs. Holloway. She was already perfectly dressed, her hands clasped in front of her.

"You are early, Miss Collins," she said. Her eyes didn't go to my face, they went straight to Leo. She stared at him with an intensity that made me want to shield him with my own body.

"He needs breakfast," I said shortly.

"The help eats in the kitchen, but you should head back to your room with yours. Follow me."

She led us down a hallway lined with portraits of stern-looking men. As we walked, I felt her gaze lingering on the back of Leo’s head.

"The boy," she started, her voice sounding like dry leaves. "He looks a bit familiar."

My heart stopped. "He looks like me."

"Does he?" She tilted her head, a small, thin smile touching her lips. "I’ve been with the Vale family for twenty years, Miss Collins. I have a very good memory for faces."

She pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen. It was a massive, stainless-steel operation. Two cooks were already busy, but they didn't look up. Mrs. Holloway pointed to a small wooden table in the corner. "Sit. Someone will bring the child a bowl of porridge. Do not let him wander. Mr. Vale is having his morning coffee in the conservatory, and he does not tolerate disruptions."

She turned to leave, but stopped at the door. "Oh, and Miss Collins? Mr. Vale expects a full report on the 1920s acquisition files by noon. Don’t spend too much time 'mothering’, you are here to work."

I watched her walk away, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. There was something off about her. She didn't just seem strict, she just seemed hungry for information.

I sat Leo down and watched him eat, my hand resting on the burner phone in my pocket. Suddenly, it vibrated.

I pulled it out under the table, and checked to see that it was a text from Emerald. 

“Hey! Haven’t heard from you the past two days, are you good?” 

I shoved the phone back into my pocket, and took a deep breath, this wasn’t really a time to chitchat about anything. 

"Done, Claire," Leo whispered, pushing his bowl away.

"Mom! Not Claire.” I whispered in his ears as I grabbed his hands carefully. “Let's go." He wasn’t used to it but it was something he would have to learn, it was also important to carry out our mission here. 

We descended back into the sub-level. I settled Leo back into our room with his trucks to keep him occupied and gave him a strict look that told him not to move. Then, I turned toward the library, maybe I could get myself familiar with the place since I would be working there often. I was midway in the library when a noticed a massive stone fireplace. It hadn't been used in years, the hearth was cold and filled with grey ash.

I walked over and knelt on the floor, my fingers searching the cold, rough stones on the left side as my heart thundered against my ribs. If I was caught in this position, it might look suspicious and that wasn’t what I needed, especially now I hadn’t even fulfilled a single task here. 

Finally I noticed a brick that didn't sit quite flush with the others, I dug my nails into the mortar and pulled. It gave way with a scraping sound that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

“Oh shit!”

Behind it was a small, tattered bundle of cloth. I reached in and pulled it out, my breath hitching in my throat. But before I could even unwrap it, a shadow fell over me.

The air in the room suddenly felt heavy, charged with a terrifying electricity.

"Lost something, Miss Collins?"

The voice was deep, smooth, and as cold as a winter grave.

I whirled around, still on my knees, clutching the bundle to my chest.

Ethan Vale was standing there. He wasn't in a suit or any formal attire like I’ve seen on the tabloids. He was wearing a black silk robe, his chest partially bared, looking like a king who had just stepped off a throne of bones. He looked less like a businessman and more like a fallen deity with his hair slightly disheveled, and his dark eyes, far too intelligent, were locked onto mine. 

He wasn’t looking at the fireplace but intently at me.

"I… I was just cleaning," I stammered, standing up slowly with my pulse skyrocketing.

He stepped closer, the scent of expensive sandalwood and something dangerous filling my senses as his hand reached out to tilt my chin up. His touch was electric, sending a shiver of pure, unadulterated fear and something else I didn't want to name straight down my spine. 

He leaned down, his face inches from mine, and for the first time, I saw his eyes. They were the color of a storm at sea, piercing, icy, and swirling with a depth that felt like it could swallow me whole. My breath hitched at the realization that I knew those eyes. I saw them every morning when I woke up. I saw them every time Leo laughed or looked at me with a question.

"You’re a very poor liar, Claire," he whispered, his thumb brushing against my lower lip. "But  a very interesting one."

He flicked his gaze to the bundle in my hand, then back to my eyes. For a heartbeat, something flared in those dark depths, a flash of recognition, or perhaps a warning and then, it was gone. His expression shifted, smoothing out into a mask of unreadable, polished stone.

"Good you’re finding your way around," he said, his voice dropping the predatory edge and returning to a professional, chilling calm. He stepped back, giving me air I didn't know I needed. "I’m sure Mrs. Holloway informed you properly on your duties."

I scrambled to my feet, surreptitiously shoving the bundle behind my back, my knees still trembling. "Yes, sir. I’ll be done with the research by noon."

"Good," he replied without a single smile on his face and simply turned on his heel, his silk robe billowing slightly behind him as he moved toward the elevator.

I thought I was safe and air was finally returning to my lungs. But he stopped in his tracks just before the doors opened, his back still turned to me.

"One more thing, Miss Collins," he said, his voice echoing off the thousands of books. "Mrs Holloway informed me you’re with a child. We generally don't allow the children of staff to reside on the property, because it’s a total distraction this estate cannot afford."

I felt my blood run cold and opened my mouth to defend my situation, or probably beg, but Ethan continued before I could speak.

"However, for certain reasons, I will make an exception for you. See that he stays within your quarters." He finished and without waiting for a response, he stepped into the elevator and was gone.

I stood there for a long time, the silence of the library feeling heavier than the noise of a city street. For certain reasons? What did that mean? Did he know? I didn't have time to dwell on it as I hurried back to the room where Leo was playing and sat down, my hands shaking as I finally unwrapped the bundle I’d pulled from the wall.

It wasn't a diary but a hand-drawn map. The paper was yellowed, the edges frayed, but the ink was unmistakable. It was a handwriting I recognized, could this be Sarah’s? My breath hitched as I smoothed the paper out on the floor. "Why would you leave a map, Sarah?" I whispered.

I traced the lines with my finger. It was a layout of the Vale estate, detailed and precise. She had mapped out the library, the servants' quarters, and the sprawling gardens. But as my finger moved toward the North-West corner of the paper, I froze.

There was a corridor in the West Wing, the very place Mrs. Holloway had warned me was strictly out of my reach. Sarah had drawn a heavy, ink-stained circle around a room at the very end of that hall. And inside the circle, she had drawn a heart. A love symbol. Tiny, perfect, and devastating.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine. Why would she leave a heart in the one place I wasn't allowed to go? Was this where they met? Was this where the affair that ruined her took place? Or was it something else? Or could this even be a trap to lure me into danger?

I looked at the heart, and for a second, the letter in my heart felt heavier. My truth was starting to feel like a puzzle with missing pieces.

I shoved the map into the hidden lining of my bag, my pulse finally slowing down. 

“I’ll be right back, Leo.” I said and patted his hair. He looked up at me and nodded slowly. 

I headed to the library with my laptop to start the research Ethan had demanded, but as my laptop screen flickered to life, the webcam light turned a steady, predatory red. My own face stared back at me on the screen and there was text overlaid across my forehead in a jagged, digital font. ACCESS GRANTED. SUBJECT: CLAIRE COLLINS. STATUS: UNDER OBSERVATION.

“What the hell!” He was cloning my computer to his. Was this even part of the job?

I was still cursing in my head when a text popped in from him asking that I send a professional head shot to his email immediately. I stared at the message and didn’t bother to protest because he left no room for any, I searched through the files containing my photos and sent him one before locking up all the other files I had stored with a passcode. There were other important documents in my laptop and him prying on me wasn’t part of this job offer. 

I closed my laptop and proceeded to pick up the files with the 1920s acquisition and head back to my room, but just as I passed by the smallest shelf in the library, a file caught my attention and the title intensified my curiosity. 

It was boldly written, “MINE.”