A soft knock pulled Esther out of her spiraling thoughts.
She rose from the bed and opened the door slowly.
There he was.
Daniel Lewis.
Crisp shirt sleeves rolled just above his wrist, top buttons undone, revealing a subtle hint of relaxation that didn't quite reach his eyes. He didn't speak immediately, only gave a quiet nod as his eyes scanned the room, neat, untouched, elegant.
"May I?" he asked.
Esther stepped aside, uncertain. "Of course, sir."
He entered, his presence alone shifting the atmosphere. The air felt tighter, heavier.
"I trust you've settled in well," he said, voice low and measured.
Esther clasped her hands in front of her. "Yes. Betty's been wonderful… and your home is…" She paused. "It's more than I expected."
A hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips , not quite amused, not quite cold. "That's good. But this isn't a vacation, Miss Cole."
She straightened slightly. "I didn't think it was."
Daniel reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a sleek folder, placing it gently on her nightstand.
"You'll find the house rules outlined here. Staff schedules. Dining times. Security measures. And more importantly," he looked her directly in the eye, "Betty's routines. Medical notes. Therapy records. Emotional triggers."
Esther blinked. "I… see."
"I had it sent to your email this afternoon. You'll find it there as well."
"Oh. I, I didn't check."
"I assumed." He adjusted his cufflink. "You're here for a reason. Not just as a caretaker, but to help Betty heal. That requires structure, not improvisation."
There was no malice in his tone. Just facts. Cold, clinical, calculated.
Esther nodded slowly, trying to mask the slight unease brewing in her chest. "Understood. I'll read through it tonight."
"Good."
He turned, ready to leave, but paused at the door.
"One more thing," he said, voice softer now. "You may feel like a guest in this house… but to Betty, you're more than that already."
Esther looked up, surprised by the sudden shift in tone.
"Don't break that."
Then he was gone.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her in silence once more ,except this time, her chest felt tighter, her role heavier.
She sat on the bed, eyes flicking to the folder.
Welcome to the Lewis mansion, she thought.
The soft click of the door echoed behind him, but Daniel didn't pause.
His polished shoes moved silently across the hallway carpet, the kind that muted every step, like the man himself, silent but impossible to ignore.
Mather greeted him with a respectful nod as he passed. "Everything in order, sir?"
Daniel merely gave a curt nod, not breaking stride. The butler didn't expect more. No one did. That was the rhythm of the Lewis household predictable, professional, and perfectly cold.
He ascended the stairs to the private wing, bypassing Betty's room without glancing. The girl was safe. That was all that mattered.
His hand wrapped around the brass handle of his bedroom door, and in one swift motion, he stepped in and shut the world out.
No sigh.
No change of expression.
No loosening of shoulders.
He moved to the bar cabinet, poured a glass of aged scotch, not out of need, but routine. The ice clinked gently, the only sound in the room as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window, city lights stretching far below like scattered stars.
From this height, the world looked small. Manageable.
Just how he liked it.
He sipped once, slowly. His eyes didn't blink as he stared into the distance.
No thoughts of the woman down the hall.
No distractions.
Just another contract. Another assignment in motion.
And yet…
His fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
Just slightly.
Then he turned, placed the drink down on the side table, and disappeared into the shadows of his room like a phantom retiring to his throne of solitude.
The Ice King… frozen solid.
Back in Esther's room , she lay on the velvet bedspread, her arms folded behind her head, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her heart still thumped quietly from the earlier instructions of Mr. Lewis.
Cold as a winter storm, she thought. And yet, somehow… solid. Predictable. The kind of man you could never win over but also never ignore.
She sighed, shifting to her side. Her thoughts drifted to her mother, had they landed? Was she okay?, then to Zianab, who would no doubt be double-checking everything before even breathing.
At least I don't have to worry about her…
Bzzzz Bzzzz.
Her phone buzzed across the nightstand, shattering the silence.
She grabbed it.
SARAH CALLING.
Esther sat up slowly, a frown already tugging at her lips. She answered.
"Hello?"
"Wow. You answered," Sarah's voice cut through. Sharp. Already annoyed. "So, when exactly were you planning to call me? Or remind me? Or were you too busy playing house to care that mom was flying out today?"
Esther blinked. The nerve.
"I didn't call," she said calmly, "because I thought you'd remember your own mother was leaving the country for a critical surgery."
"Oh please," Sarah scoffed, "You all act like I don't have responsibilities. Not everyone has the luxury of playing babysitter."
That was it.
Esther stood from the bed, her voice still level, but laced with fire.
"You're right, Sarah. You do have responsibilities. But the first one should've been to the woman who raised you. Who broke her back so you could sit in that 'big position' you're in."
There was silence.
Esther continued, "Do you even know how many times she asked about you before the flight? How she kept looking at the door hoping you'd walk in? You weren't just absent, Sarah. You hurt her. And you didn't even bother to send a text."
"Esther.."
"No," she snapped, her voice rising. "Don't you dare spin this on me. You didn't forget, Sarah. You chose not to show up. And if that doesn't eat you up now, it will. Someday, when it's too late."
Another pause. Sarah didn't have a response ready. Just shallow breathing on the other end.
Esther drew in a breath, steadying herself.
"I covered for you," she added quietly. "Zianab did too. But mom deserved better. And whether you face it now or later… you'll have to live with that."
Her chest still rose and fell from the last heated exchange. The room had gone quiet again. Too quiet. Esther sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, not sure if the call would end there , until Sarah's voice crackled softly through the speaker.
"I'm sorry… I know you're probably right."
Esther paused. It wasn't what she expected , the voice on the other end sounded smaller, unsure. Sarah continued, as if fighting her own pride.
"I shouldn't give excuses. But I swear… I didn't mean to miss Mom's departure. I just.."
Esther cut in, tired. Her voice wasn't angry anymore. Just worn out.
"Sarah, please. Stop with the excuses. Just accept you were wrong. That's all anyone needed from you."
A beat.
"Fine," Sarah breathed, and Esther could hear the tension shifting, like a rope loosening around a lie. Then, too quickly , "So… how's your stay in the Lewis mansion?"
Esther's brows creased. That pivot wasn't casual.
"It's going well," she replied flatly.
"And Mr. Lewis? Did you two… chat?" Sarah's voice was light, too light , careful, sugar-coated, but not sweet. Not really.
Esther narrowed her eyes. There it is. That subtle prying laced with a pinch of plotting .
"Sarah," she said, voice firm. "I'm here to do my job. Not to 'chat' with the man who hired me. I don't know what kind of drama you're fishing for, but I'm not interested."
A frustrated breath slipped from Sarah, low but audible , a crack in her polished tone.
"I hope so," she snapped, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. "I'm just… looking out for you, okay? Rich people like him , they don't think like us. You'd better keep your thoughts clean and stick to what you were hired for."
And that… was it.
The last straw.
Esther didn't argue. She didn't yell. She just ended the call with a swipe of her thumb and hurled the phone onto the bed, where it bounced once and fell still on the velvet sheets.
Her jaw clenched.
"The nerve…" she muttered to herself, pacing now. Her hands were fists at her sides.
She could feel the headache forming. Not from the conversation itself , but from everything Sarah had come to represent lately.
What's seriously wrong with her?
The words echoed inside her skull like a bell. Not just guilt , but confusion. Hurt.
She was tired. Not just physically.
Tired of being the one who always had to pick up the emotional slack.
Tired of being talked to like her dreams didn't count.
Tired of Sarah's bitterness wrapped in fake concern.
Her eyes fell on the window. Lights twinkled in the night sky, the city alive in the distance.
She took a long breath, letting her thoughts quiet.
Tomorrow is a new day, she reminded herself.
I'm here for Betty. For Mom. For me.
And as her heart finally began to steady, she turned off the bedside lamp.