Chapter 5 Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Man, the Cross place felt way colder than usual.

Seriously, not even in the dead of winter did it get this quiet in the big rooms. The morning after Damian got jumped, nobody was cracking jokes in the kitchen. No speedy footsteps echoing on the marble floors. You couldn't even hear the vacuums whirring or plates clanking, which was pretty typical.

All you heard were hushed voices.

And underneath those whispers, everyone was totally freaked out.

Madam Evelyn Cross was stomping around the drawing room in a navy robe. Her hair was already done, like she expected reporters or cameras to show up. But nobody outside knew anything yet. Not the news. Not the people who owned shares. Not the general public.

And that was the super important part.

“Lock down the West Wing,” she barked, her voice all cool but totally in charge. “And double the guards.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said the head of security, already flipping through his notes.

She turned to Selene, who was standing stiffly by the window with her arms crossed.

“I want every single staff member questioned. Quietly. Really dig deep. Someone saw something. We gotta find out who, before someone else does.”

Selene just nodded, though her eyes kept darting towards the door, like she’d rather be anywhere else. Literally anywhere else.

“They'll talk,” she said. “People always do.”

The staff had been rounded up and told to wait in the dining hall, silent, until a guard came to get them one by one.

Aria was squeezed into the very end of the long table, her eyes glued to the floor, her hands shaking a little in her lap. She hadn't slept. Not a wink. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was blood. Damian's blood. His face, all pale and fading. How he grabbed her hand before he passed out.

She really thought he was going to die.

But he didn't.

He was alive.

And now the whole house was trying to figure out who had been there. Who had seen the attack. Who had helped out.

Aria kept her mouth shut.

She’d barely made it back to her room after the doctor took Damian away. Her apron was stained. Her face was all streaky from crying. And yet, only one person had seen her sneak through the servant's hallway.

Ms. Fletcher.

They’d just looked at each other for a second.

Aria had started to open her mouth to explain, but Ms. Fletcher just gave a tiny shake of her head and kept walking, clipboard in hand, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Not a word was spoken between them.

Ms. Fletcher was one of the first people they questioned.

Inside Madam Evelyn’s private office, she stood up straight, looking totally unfazed, her usual pen and clipboard in hand.

“Report,” Evelyn said.

“The staff were all in their assigned rooms after curfew. No one went into the West Wing through any of the main entrances. Cleaning was done by 9:30 PM, as scheduled. There are no recorded complaints or reports of anything weird happening before the incident.”

“And nobody saw anything?”

“No one has come forward.”

“Did you?” Selene asked, cutting in sharply.

Ms. Fletcher looked her straight in the eye.

“No.”

The room went quiet.

“Alright then,” Evelyn said after a beat. “Send in the next one.”

When Aria’s name got called, her heart did a little leap. Her feet felt like lead as she stood up from the bench.

The guard led her down the hallway, past rooms she couldn't even look at without jumping, especially the one where she’d found Damian, bleeding and gasping, the sound of broken glass crunching under her shoes.

Inside the office, the air felt thinner.

Madam Evelyn was sitting behind the big desk. Selene was leaning against the fireplace, watching Aria like a hawk.

Ms. Fletcher was there too, standing off to the side, not saying a thing.

“Aria, right?” Evelyn asked, her voice smooth.

“Yes, ma'am,” Aria replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“You were supposed to be doing laundry last night, correct?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And you went back to your room after that?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hear anything strange?” Evelyn asked. “Footsteps. Voices. Alarms.”

Aria only hesitated for a second.

“No, ma'am.”

Selene narrowed her eyes. “You were one of the newer girls, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

“New and already breaking the rules,” Selene muttered under her breath.

Aria stiffened but didn't say anything.

“Did you go anywhere near the West Wing last night?” Evelyn asked, getting straight to the point.

“No, ma'am,” Aria answered, looking down.

There was a pause. Then Evelyn gave a polite smile, though her eyes were sharp.

“You can go.”

Aria didn't even wait. She curtsied quickly and hurried out of the room.

She hadn't exactly lied. She'd done laundry. She'd gone back to her room. She just hadn't mentioned the bit in between.

The part where she saved a man’s life.

In the servants' quarters, Aria sat on the edge of her bed, staring down at her folded apron.

She kept replaying the moment he’d mumbled something, she couldn't remember what, and squeezed her hand before he passed out.

A man like him. So powerful. So untouchable. Yet at that moment, he seemed so fragile.

She had questions, so many questions. Who attacked him? Why? Was it someone from inside the house? Was it Selene? One of the guards? Did it have something to do with that argument she overheard a few days ago?

But she couldn't ask.

Not when they were already looking for someone to point fingers at.

So she said nothing.

Just like Ms. Fletcher.

That night, the estate finally got quiet.

But the storm wasn't over.

It was just circling around.

And in the middle of it were two women, stuck together by silence. One who saw everything and said nothing. And one who did everything and prayed nobody ever found out.