Sebastian Blake –
Something changed.
She didn't say anything. That wasn't unusual — she barely spoke to me unless I asked her something directly.
But now, her silence felt different.
She'd stopped trembling when I entered a room.
She didn't flinch when I poured myself a drink. Didn't avoid my eyes. Didn't rush out of the room the second I walked in.
Last night, I found a cup of tea on my desk.
Still hot.
No note. No maid. No cameras catching who placed it.
But I knew it was her.
Today, I passed her in the hallway. She wasn't looking at the floor like she usually did. She was humming something under her breath. Off-key. Some cheerful nonsense.
She smiled when she saw me.
Not the fake, terrified smile she gave on the first day.
A small, real one.
And then she kept walking, like nothing had happened.
But something had.
Later that evening, I watched her from my study window. She was on the patio with Mrs. Dalton and two of the younger housemaids. She was talking — hands moving wildly, animated, expressive — and laughing.
Laughing.
Like she belonged here.
Like she wasn't a girl who had been chained and auctioned off like property.
I leaned back in my chair, frowning.
She'd heard something. I was sure of it.
Had she been near my office that night?
Did she hear what I said about my mother? About Luca?
But if she had… why didn't she say anything?
Why didn't she ask?
Why did she just look at me like that — with eyes that didn't fear me, but something worse.
Understood me.
It made my throat tighten.
Understanding is more dangerous than hate.
Hate I can deal with. I can kill hate.
But understanding?
Understanding is what breaks people like me open.
And I don't know if I want her to stop.