Harris walked Alexa through the corridors of the mansion hallway, as the polished marble clicked beneath their shoes. The mansion walls were lined with portraits of Marcus' ancestors, battles, and fame in every frame. Alexa's eyes looked at each of them once, then she slowly bowed her head, uninterested.
Harris immediately halted in front of a room door, and Alexa followed suit.
"This will be your room," Harris said stiffly, unlocking the polished mahogany door. "Stay out of the restricted areas, don't wander at night, and do not—under any circumstance—interrupt Mr. Delacroix unless summoned. Understood?"
Alexa slanted her head as she offered the faintest of smiles. "Crystal clear."
He gave a sharp nod, then his eyes narrowed slightly as though he expected her to break rules just for sport. "Dinner is at seven. Someone will fetch you." And with that, he left, shutting the door behind him with military precision.
Alexa, now relaxed, let out a slow breath and then tossed her bag onto the plush bed. The room itself was saying 'I am luxury' because it had velvet drapes, an antique vanity, a balcony overlooking manicured gardens—but all she saw was another cage.
She slowly shut the curtains, slipped a small device from her coat pocket, and pressed it to her ear.
"Base, this is Alexa," she whispered, using her assassin codename. "I'm in."
Static crackled before the Administrator's smooth, cold voice filled her ear.
"Good. From here, you try to blend in. The staff don't need to like you. Marcus doesn't need to trust you. The only one you must get close to… is Aaron. Through him, you'll reach Marcus. Through Marcus, you'll uncover his ties. And maybe…" The voice paused, deliberate. "…the truth about your parents' death."
Alexa's jaw tightened. "I remember. I won't fail."
"Keep your mask on, April," the Administrator murmured, as he deliberately used her real name. "Nobody here can know who you truly are. Do you understand?"
Her fingers curled into a fist, reopening the sting of the bandaged cut from the night; she had cut her palm. "Understood."
The line went dead.
For a few moments, she sat there in silence, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. Alexa. April. Assassin. Nanny. Who exactly was she supposed to be in this house?
A soft knock then came at the door and pulled her out of her thoughts.
She stood, already masking her face back into a neutral smile before opening the door. Nina stood there, clutching her apron, eyes darting nervously.
"Um… dinner's ready, Miss Alexa. Mr. Delacroix asked everyone to be punctual."
Alexa leaned against the doorframe almost too casually, her voice smooth and laced with her usual deadpan sarcasm. "Thanks, Nina. I'd hate to keep royalty waiting."
Nina blinked; she was clearly unsure whether Alexa was joking or dangerous. "Y-Yes… of course. This way."
As Alexa followed the young maid down the grand staircase toward the dining hall, she could already feel it—the weight of the mansion pressing down on her, every staff member watching, every step she took being measured.
The battlefield wasn't just outside anymore. It was here, inside these golden walls.
Scene 2: I DON'T LIKE HER!!
The dining hall was a palace of its own. It had a long mahogany table stretched the length of the room, crystal glasses shiny under the chandelier. Marcus sat at the head, his posture flawless, while Aaron sat to his right, chin propped on his hand, glaring at Alexa the second she stepped in.
"Sit," Marcus said, his tone a command, not an invitation.
Alexa took the seat across from Aaron. The silence was very suffocating, as the knives scraped and glasses clinked.
Aaron broke it first. "You look weird."
Alexa arched a brow. "So do you."
Aaron gasped, nearly dropping his fork. "Daddy! She—"
"Eat," Marcus interrupted without looking at either of them.
Aaron puffed his cheeks as he stabbed his steak like it had offended him. Alexa smirked and cut hers with delicate precision.
"So," Marcus finally said, eyes glancing toward her, "tell me, Alexa. Why do you want this job?"
Alexa met his gaze head-on; it was calm but unreadable. "Because I don't quit easily. And your son... he looks like he needs someone who won't run away."
Aaron mocked. "Or maybe you're just desperate for money."
"Maybe," Alexa said, her voice flat. "But I don't work for free. And I don't work without winning."
Marcus leaned back slightly, watching the exchange with something like interest. His lips curved the faintest bit.
Aaron slammed his fork down. "I don't like her!"
Alexa leaned forward and whispered just loud enough for Marcus to hear, "Lucky for you, I'm not here to be liked."
The boy froze, his face burning red. Marcus's gaze sharpened, but instead of reprimand, there was amusement in his eyes.
Dinner continued, filled with Aaron's grumbles, Alexa's dry comebacks, and Marcus's silent calculations.
But then—Marcus's phone buzzed. He answered, his tone clipped. "What is it?"
The entire table went silent as Marcus's face changed. His expression—usually calm, unreadable—hardened like steel. His grip tightened around the glass until it nearly cracked.
He stood abruptly, chair scraping the floor. "Dinner's over."
Without another word, he strode out of the hall, his footsteps echoing like a warning bell.
Alexa sat back slowly, her knife resting against her plate. Aaron blinked in confusion, and the staff exchanged nervous glances.
But Alexa… Alexa smirked.
"Looks like the storm just arrived."