The creak of the floorboard was still echoing in my ears long after the hallway went silent. Ethan had slipped away through the servant's entrance, leaving me to step out into the corridor alone, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I didn't even make it three steps before a shadow detached itself from the gloom of the back stairs.
"A dangerous place to linger, Sasha."
I gasped, spinning around. Mr. Harrison stood there, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression as unreadable as a stone monument. He didn't look angry; he looked weary, which was somehow much worse.
"Mr. Harrison, I was just…"
"I know what you were doing," he interrupted, his voice a low, sandpaper rasp. He stepped closer, and for the first time, the cold authority in his eyes shifted into something that looked uncomfortably like pity. "And I know what you think you're doing. You think Ethan Grant is your shield. You think because he holds you in the dark, he will protect you in the light."
I looked down at my shoes, unable to meet his gaze. "He says things are changing."
"Things are always changing in this house, but the result is always the same," Harrison said. He reached out, surprisingly, and placed a hand on my shoulder. It wasn't an affectionate gesture; it was a warning. "I have seen girls like you before, Sasha. Girls who thought they were special enough to survive the Grants. They don't. They don't even get to leave with a story. They simply... disappear. No records, no footprints, nothing."
A cold shiver raced down my spine. The word disappear carried a weight that made the air in the hall feel thin.
"Mrs. Grant isn't just watching you because she's suspicious," Harrison leaned in, his voice a ghost of a whisper. "She's watching you because she's deciding when you stop being useful. If you have any sense left if there is any part of you that still wants to breathe the air outside this town you will leave. Tonight. I can leave the back gate unmonitored for an hour. Go, and don't look back."
I looked up at him, shocked. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because I'm tired of seeing the same tragedy play out," he said simply. "And because unlike the others, I think you actually have a soul worth saving. Don't waste it on a man who is already bought and paid for by a Sterling."
He pulled his hand back, the moment of vulnerability vanishing. "Think about it. But don't think too long. Time is a luxury you no longer have."
I didn't leave. Not like I'd have a place to go to if I wanted to. The memory of Ethan's kiss was a tether I couldn't cut, even with Harrison's warning ringing in my ears. Instead, I found myself dragged into the chaos of Victoria's "sleepover."
She and three of her bridesmaids had taken over the entire east wing. They were leaving at dawn for a lavish bridal shower weekend at a private estate in the Hamptons, and apparently, they couldn't possibly pack their own bags.
The air in the master suite was thick with the smell of expensive perfume and the shrill sound of forced laughter. Victoria was in the center of it all, wearing a white silk robe with Bride embroidered on the back in crystals.
"Sasha! Pay attention!" Victoria snapped, gesturing to a pile of designer shoes on the floor. "The Louboutins go in the blue trunk, and the heels need to be individually wrapped in tissue. If I see a single scuff when I get there, I'll have your head."
Her friends girls with names like Tiffany and Blair who looked at me like I was a stray cat that had wandered into the house laughed.
"God, Vic," Tiffany giggled, sipping from a glass of champagne. "How do you stand it? Having them just... hovering all the time? It's so creepy."
"You get used to it," Victoria said, her eyes following me with a malicious glint as I knelt on the floor to wrap the shoes. "It's like having a dog that understands basic English. Though this one is particularly slow lately. I think she's been spending too much time 'working' in the library."
The girls erupted into another round of giggles. Victoria walked over to me, her silk robe fluttering.
She "accidentally" kicked one of the shoes away just as I reached for it, forcing me to crawl further across the rug.
"Oh, oops," she smirked. "While you're down there, wrap those sandals too. And make sure the steamer is ready. I want the silk slips done before we go to sleep. We have to be out by 5 AM."
I felt the familiar heat of humiliation burning in my chest. I worked in silence, my fingers fumbling with the delicate tissue paper. My body felt heavy, a strange, persistent dizziness clouding my vision that I tried to blame on the lack of sleep.
"Wait," Victoria said suddenly, her voice turning sharp. She walked over and stared down at the trunk I was packing. "Did you put the Sterling lace in here? I told you that was to stay in the vanity drawer."
"I haven't touched the lace, Miss Sterling," I said, looking up.
"Well, it's not in the drawer," she snapped, her face turning a blotchy red. "I saw you looking at it the other day. You were practically drooling over it. If you've stolen it…"
"I didn't steal anything," I said, my voice rising slightly.
"Don't you dare use that tone with me!" Victoria shrieked. She grabbed a champagne glass from the table and dumped the contents cold, sticky liquid directly onto the back of my head.
The cold shock made me gasp. The girls gasped too, followed by a chorus of muffled snickering.
"Now," Victoria whispered, leaning down so her face was inches from mine, the smell of alcohol and malice filling the air. "Clean that up. Then find my lace. And if I hear another word from you, I'll tell Mrs. Grant you were trying to sell family heirlooms. We both know who she'll believe."
I knelt there, the champagne dripping down my neck and onto the expensive rug, my heart breaking under the weight of Harrison's ignored warning. I was a dog. I was a ghost. I was a target. And the man I thought was my shield was currently downstairs, probably drinking brandy and pretending I didn't exist.