Scene 1 (Night Updates & The Clink at the Door)
Aaron was finally out cold. His tiny frame twisted around his pillow; his breathing was soft and even.
For a second, Alexa just stood there, watching him. It was not in a warm, motherly way, but rather with the eyes of someone measuring a new battlefield. He looked peaceful when asleep, and nothing like the storm he'd been downstairs.
"Fragile little prince," she muttered under her breath, and then stood, easing herself out of his room.
The hallway stretched endlessly, every chandelier dimmed, and every shadow stretched longer than it should. Alexa's footsteps were silent, her years of training making sure even the creaky spots didn't betray her.
By the time she reached her given room, she slowly locked the door behind her. The first thing she did was strip off the stiffness and coldness of the day; afterwards, she took a hot shower. She, after a few reasonable minutes of showering, stepped out, her hair damp, a towel slung lazily around her shoulders. For the first time since stepping into the Delacroix mansion, she let her body fall onto the bed.
Then — bzzz. Her phone lit up. It vibrated against the nightstand. She didn't hesitate.
"Administrator," she greeted flatly as she pressed the receiver to her ear.
His voice was as low and sharp as always, cutting straight to the point. "Status."
"I'm in," she said, running a hand carefully through her wet hair. "The mansion's bigger than it looks from the outside. Staff here aren't all friendly; some, like me, aren't. The butler's already decided I'm a problem. And Marcus—" she exhaled softly, "—Marcus is watching me like a hawk, he doesn't trust me, but he trusts no one, so it balances out."
"And the boy?"
Alexa looked at the window and saw the moonlight spill over the curtains as if it were listening to. Her lips twisted. "Aaron Delacroix is… a brat. Smart for his age, too smart. He already hates me. Said he'd make me quit. Honestly? He might try."
The Administrator chuckled darkly. "Then don't give him that satisfaction. Remember why you're there."
Her throat tightened almost too quickly. The image of her parents' blood and her father's last shout — April, go now! — flashed across her mind. She clenched the bedsheet. "I know why I'm here. I'll find out who pulled the trigger on my parents that night. No matter what."
"Good. Keep your cover intact. Update me when you get closer to Marcus's inner circle. Until then…" the line went dead almost too quickly.
Alexa let the phone drop on her chest. Silence pressed in again, heavy and suffocating.
She closed her eyes, finally willing her body to rest—
Clink.
Her eyes snapped open.
That wasn't her imagination. Right?
Then a soft metallic sound came from her door handle, just faint enough, like someone testing it. Her pulse jumped, but her face stayed blank as stone. Then slowly, silently, she reached under her pillow, and as her fingers curled around the slim blade, she always kept hidden.
The sound stopped, and silence swallowed the room again. Whoever it was… they knew she knew.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. So, the game begins.
Scene 2 (Shadows At The Door)
Meanwhile, downstairs in the kitchen, the house had gone mostly quiet, the kind of quiet that only big mansions know, as the grandfather clock ticked faintly somewhere far off, every second heavy and slow.
Nina pushed open the kitchen door with shaky hands. Her apron was wrinkled and was knotted too tightly at her waist. Her eyes darted around like a thief caught in the wrong room. She moved quickly to one of the cupboards, fumbling with a small jar she was trying to tuck behind the sacks of flour.
"—And just what do you think you're doing, Nina?"
The voice was warm, steady, and sharp all at the same time.
Nina froze as she nearly dropped the jar. She then turned slowly to find Mrs. Winona leaning against the counter, her plump cheeks glowed in the kitchen lamp's light, and her apron was still dusted with flour. Her eyes, though kind, were sharp enough to pin Nina in place.
"N-Nothing, Mrs. Winona," Nina stammered, clutching her apron like a shield.
Winona didn't budge. "Child, don't you lie to me. I've been running this kitchen longer than you've been alive. If Marcus brings someone into this house, I trust them. You should, too."
Nina's lips trembled, then pressed into a pout too soon. "But I don't trust her."
Winona folded her arms, letting out a sigh. "This again. Nina, Alexa is here for Aaron. That's her only job."
"She's… she's strange," Nina whispered fiercely, looking toward the door as if Alexa might walk in. "The others didn't last, but she.... she looks different. Like she's hiding something. And Marcus—" her voice then dropped to a whisper, "—he never brings just anyone close to Aaron."
Winona's brow lined, though her tone stayed even. "You're young. You're letting your head run away with stories. Or worse—your heart."
Nina's cheeks burned red immediately as she tried to protest, "I-It's not like that!"
"Oh, don't play games with me." Winona's voice was firm now, as she cut through Nina's nerves. "I see how your eyes follow him. Marcus Delacroix is your master, not your… fantasy. You need to stop this nonsense before it ruins you."
Nina's shoulders fell, but the defiance didn't leave her eyes. "I don't care what you say. Alexa doesn't belong here. She'll be just like the others—gone. You'll see."
The room went heavy, and the only sound was the faint whistle of the kettle left on the stove.
Then—
Cre-e-eak.
Both women froze.
The kitchen door, the very one Nina had slipped through moments ago, shifted ever so slightly. Like someone's hand had pressed against it from the other side.
Winona's flour-dusted hand immediately tightened around her apron; Nina's breath caught in her throat.
"Who's there?" Winona called, her voice steady but lower now.
Silence.
The door didn't open… but the air in the kitchen suddenly felt colder, thicker, as though someone — or something—had been listening the whole time.