Scene 1 (Marcus's Departure)
Marcus waited till the last fork clinked on the plate before pushing his chair backwards. The dining hall seemed to bend a little with the sound of wood screeching against marble. Every head turned, staff frozen mid-breath, Aaron's wide eyes following him like a puppy refusing to let go.
"Papa?" Aaron's voice cracked in that soft, six-year-old way that wasn't in any way seen or justified as weakness, but it was something more like pure attachment. He held the table's edge. "Where are you going? You just got home."
Marcus knew his son was right, but he didn't answer immediately, almost like he wanted to allow Aaron's emotions to wind down a little. He adjusted the cufflinks of his suit, the lines of his jaw sharp as if he was sealing himself back into his armor. Finally, his baritone cut through the silence. "I'll be back soon. You'll be fine here."
Aaron's face flushed red with anger. "No! I won't. Not with her," he bumped his chin towards Alexa, as his eyes were narrowed and furious in the same icy suspicion he had first shown her. "Send her away. I don't need a babysitter!!"
Marcus' gaze didn't shift; he simply pinned his eyes on Aaron like a general correcting a soldier. "That's enough, Aaron."
The boy's lips trembled, then hardened into a pout. "But—"
"No," Marcus cut sharply, finally, the word ringing through the chandelier-lit space. "You'll stay with Alexa tonight. She'll take you to your room and she'll stay until you're asleep."
Aaron's stare then moved to Alexa, and Alexa, cool, calm, unreadable, met his stare head-on. She didn't even cringe.
Marcus, after letting the 'chaos' settle, slowly rounded the table; his footsteps were calculated. He stopped behind Alexa's chair, leaning in just close enough that only she could hear. His breath brushed against her ear; his voice was low enough to prickle down her spine.
"If anything happens to my son," he whispered, fatal calm, "if he so much as breathes wrong under your watch… I'll make sure you regret setting foot in this house."
Alexa didn't move, as her pulse raced, but her face stayed still as glass. "Understood," she murmured, as she matched his low tone with a steady one of her own.
Marcus unbent afterwards, and gave one last look at Aaron—firm, unyielding—then strode out. The heavy doors shut almost immediately behind him with a final thud that echoed through the hall like it was a warning bell.
And just like that, the mansion shifted. Without Marcus, the air felt less controlled, more dangerous. Aaron sat rigid in his chair, his eyes still burning holes through Alexa.
For the first time, she realized: this wasn't just a job. This was survival.
Scene 2 (Aaron's Room)
After Marcus left, the silence in the hall was thick; it was almost suffocating. Aaron, after a few minutes of screwing about two hundred plus (200+) holes with his eyes into Alexa, shoved his chair backwards and hopped down as he clenched his small fists at his sides. Without saying a word, he stormed forward, his bare feet slapping against the polished marble as he darted up the grand staircase.
Alexa let out a somewhat tired sigh and followed him like a shadow he didn't want. The staff watched closely; some watched for curiosity, others watched to see her fail.
When she reached the top, Aaron was already standing at his bedroom door, staring at her like a guard dog. "You don't belong here," he snapped.
"Good thing I didn't come here for your approval, kid," Alexa shot back smoothly, folding her arms.
His jaw dropped; no one had ever talked to him that way. His expression was mixed with both audacity and furiousness. "You—you can't talk to me like that! I'm the heir of this house!"
Alexa simply arched a brow. "Oh, wow. Six years old and already throwing titles, should I bow, Your Highness?"
Aaron, furious, stomped his foot. "I'm serious! All the others listened to me. Why won't you?"
"Because I'm not like the others, boy." She said, leaning against the doorframe casually. "You think scaring me will make me run? Cute, but you'll need more than angry pouts to break me or convince me.... to leave."
That hit hard as his cheeks were flushed with both embarrassment and rage. "You'll quit. Everyone quits.... they all leave me."
The honesty in the last line slipped out like a crack in his stubbornness, and for the first time, Alexa caught a glimpse of what was beneath his arrogance. Loneliness.
But she didn't let her expression soften. Not yet.
"Then maybe," she said quietly, "it's because you make it too easy for them to leave."
Aaron blinked as he was stunned into silence. No one had ever dared for a second to say that to him before. His throat worked, but his words failed him. Finally, he spun around and flung the door open.
"Fine! Stay if you want. But don't think you'll last."
He stomped inside, and Alexa followed, her eyes immediately scanning the room. It was big enough to swallow her entire apartment back at the.... Toys were scattered in controlled chaos, a giant model airplane was half-finished on the desk, and a tall window draped in heavy curtains had let in the pale moonlight.
Aaron gently threw himself on the bed dramatically, as he hugged a pillow to his chest. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye, as if waiting for her to walk out, but she didn't.
Instead, Alexa wandered over to the bookshelf, pulling out a random children's story. "Bedtime, right? You want me to read you something?"
"No!" he barked. "I'm not a baby!"
"Could've fooled me with the tantrum downstairs."
He gasped, sitting up straight. "You—! You're so—"
"What? Honest?" Alexa smirked as she settled into a chair by his bed. "You can throw all the fire you want, kid, but sorry, I've seen worse."
Aaron stared at her for a long while, then muttered under his breath, "I still don't like you."
"Good," she replied, as she leaned back comfortably. "At least you're not pretending."
For the first time today, the tension shifted. Aaron didn't smile, but the fight in his eyes dulled ever so slightly. He huffed, then turned his back to her, burying his face in the pillow.
Alexa glanced at him, her voice dropping into a rare softness. "Sleep. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere tonight."
He didn't answer, but his little shoulders stopped trembling as she said it. The fight faded into drowsy silence, and within minutes, his breathing evened out.
Alexa sat there, staring at the boy who already hated her, knowing Marcus's warning echoed in the back of her mind like a curse.
If anything happens to my son…
Her fists clenched in her lap. "Don't worry, Marcus," she whispered into the quiet. "I'll survive him. Even if he kills me first."