Why did the nurse leave early last night? Why was the girl trembling in the hallway near the bathroom yesterday? Why did nobody flinch? On her fourth morning, Tasha carried a breakfast tray up to the second floor. She paused outside Vivian’s room. Knocked once.
No answer. She opened it slowly. Vivian was on the floor, not passed out, just curled up, eyes open, breathing slow, hands tucked under a small frame, like she was hugging herself from the inside.
Tasha froze in the doorway. Not panic. Not even fear.
Just a strange, heavy stillness. She placed the tray down. Didn’t say anything.
Didn’t ask anything. She just sat cross-legged beside her, quiet. After a long silence, Vivian whispered, It hurts today.
Tasha nodded. I know. That moment didn’t change the world.
Not yet. But something shifted. Something soft and invisible….
Downstairs, in the service hallway near the laundry chute, two older maids whispered over folded towels. I give her a week, one said, smoothing out a sheet. She’s too soft for this place.
She got that look, the other muttered, like she’s seen struggle, and struggle don’t last long round here. They chuckled, looked up. Tasha passed silently behind them, arms full of pillowcases.
She didn’t say a word, but she heard every syllable. That evening, the house glowed with gold light. Gregory arrived home late.
Vivian didn’t greet him. He didn’t expect her to. Tasha cleaned the upstairs study while glancing at the locked office door at the far end.
Security sensors blinked right above it. High clearance. Off limits.
Not her business. But even from outside, she could hear something ticking. Maybe it was the clock.
Or maybe it was just time waiting to run out. The morning started heavy. Storm clouds hovered low over the hills, making the mansion feel dim even with all the lights on.
Gregory had flown out just before sunrise. Business in Zurich or Singapore, or somewhere that didn’t require him to say goodbye. Tasha moved through her routine, like clockwork, but something felt off.
Vivian hadn’t come down for breakfast. By 9 a.m., the head maid was complaining about the wrong detergent order. By 10, the other staff were focused on getting the outdoor patio spotless for some investor dinner scheduled next week.
Vivian? Nobody mentioned her. Tasha hesitated outside her room again. Something in her chest tugged.
She knocked twice. No answer. She opened the door, and time slowed.
Vivian was lying halfway off the bed, drenched in sweat. Her hands were shaking, lips dry. Her body curled unnaturally, like it was fighting itself from the inside.
The room smelled sharp, like plastic and fear. Tasha dropped to her knees beside her. Vivian? The girl’s eyelids fluttered.
Her breath was ragged. Like she was breathing through broken glass. Tasha’s own hands trembled…
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