Chapter 3: The Tale of Curiosity

Then suddenly, as if snapping out of his feelings. His face turned into something else that looked like fury

“Are you all right, sir?” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was concerned about him

Nathan’s eyes snapped back at me, sharp as a blade, locking with mine.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “So you speak without being asked?”

“I…I’m sorry, sir,” I stammered with heat rushing to my cheeks.

“You’re not here to care.” His interruption was swift, cutting through my nerves. My blood boiled. I wasn't expecting such an arrogant response from him. Not while I'm concerned about him. Yes, he is my boss, but shouldn't I care?

In anger, I lowered the tray on his polished mahogany desk carefully, ensuring not to make a sound. I turned toward the door to leave, but his voice cut through again.

“You cooked this?” He said with that smirk on his face again as his voice halted me mid-step towards the door.

“No, sir,” I said softly. “The kitchen staff prepared it.”

“Oh, good! Because I don’t eat lies for breakfast.” He muttered, rising to his feet. His movements were slow and predatory; little did he know how hurtful his words were to me. I felt like pouncing on him and scattering his hair or making him feel the same way I feel, but who am I to question his authority?

He circled the desk with a deliberate grace with his burning eyes drilling into me. The knot I felt in my stomach earlier returned. His eyes traveled to every part of my fragile body. I wished he would look anywhere else, anywhere but not at me.

He moved closer and picked up my documents on the mahogany desk.

“Elena Cruz from Sacramento?” he said suddenly. His tone sliced through the air. “Your parents are deceased, and you were raised by an aunt. Correct?”

I froze. My blood turned cold this time. That was the story Andrey had drilled into me, the one I was supposed to live by all the rest of my stay with the Bishops.

“Ye..Ye,s sir,” I whispered.

Nathan looked at me. He felt something odd about the way I shivered any time he mentioned my name. He knew I was here to find a living for myself, but there is something he can't grasp about my identity. Or should he find out?

Invading the fragile bubble of space around me. His presence felt heavy.

“Then tell me, Elena. Which street in Sacramento did you grow up on?

My mind emptied. Words failed me. “Uh…??”

A curve ran across his lips. “That’s what I thought.” He said, as if knowing about my secret.

“Whatever you’re hiding, I’ll uncover it, and if you’re fortunate, I’ll let you walk out of this house alive.” He replied, sounding so deadly.

A shiver tore through me immediately. My skin prickled as sweat gathered at the nape of my neck. What would be my fate if he finds out about my true identity? Or does he know already? Before I could gather my thoughts, the door at my left creaked open.

A woman entered, elegant and poised, her presence radiating command. She looked younger than her years, but her aura carried the weight of power.

Lady Bishop. Nathan’s mother is also known as the queen.

“Is this the new help?” She asked, her voice was cool, but her eyes swept over me with disdain.

“Yes, Mother,” Nathan replied. “She lies…but at least she does it politely.”

On hearing that, Lady Bishop’s lips tightened into a thin and displeasing line.

“Keep her away from the east wing,” she ordered. Nathan’s gaze darkened. “I’ve already warned her.”

Their eyes met. An unspoken duel, more like a tension hung between them, crackling like a storm about to break.

Then, at a swift glance, her attention shifted to me.

“You’re pretty,” She said, her tone like ice. “But do not confuse usefulness with importance. This house has swallowed girls far better than you. Don’t make yourself the next scapegoat.”

This house has swallowed more beautiful girls than you. Don't make yourself the next scapegoat.

I recalled the words again. What does that mean? Am I entering into death or something close to torture?

She couldn't even wait to see the confusion enveloping my face. She turned, her heels echoing sharply across the marble floor as she exited.

The next three days blurred into relentless routines, scrubbing, serving, watching and learning more about the ‘Bishops’. I learned fast, but Nathan’s moods were mercurial. Just like one moment, he ignored me and the next, he dragged me into conversations that felt more like interrogations.

One day, I glimpsed him standing in the garden, silhouetted against the stars, his face etched with questions. He looked bothered by something. I felt like going closer to him to ask what keeps him so lost in thought, but I couldn't.

Above all, the east wing haunted me most. The black double doors loomed whenever I passed. It hums with invisible tension, and at night, one could hear faint whispers crying through the walls with footsteps and muffled sobs. Curiosity gnawed at me as I couldn't wrap my head around all these.

One evening, I gathered the courage to ask Janie, a fellow maid, as we headed to our quarters that evening.

“Do you know what’s in the east wing?

To my shock, the face and mood shifted immediately as she responded. “Don’t ask me.

I felt she also knew about it and felt the same way I felt about the east wing.

“But…I”

“Please don’t ever ask me that again.” She cut in as she dropped the glass in her hand, and it shattered across the tiles.

Janie had always been cold to me ever since I set foot into the Bishops' mansion. Her disdain increased whenever Nathan called me for tasks, but this particular reaction today sliced deeper than any of her gla

res.

It wasn’t just anger… It was clearly envy. But why is she envious of me? Besides, I had nothing to do with Nathan. Or is there something I should know she is not telling me?