Chapter 47 Chapter 47: The Request She Can’t Make
“You have to be joking,” I said, the words slipping out before I could soften them. My voice came out thin and breathless, like the air had been knocked from my lungs. “I can’t ask her for that. Wilder, that’s not a small favor—that’s a fortune.” I shook my head quickly, taking a step back as if distance alone could make the idea less real. Behind me, the open staff door felt like a ticking clock. Every second I spent outside was another risk, another mistake waiting to be discovered. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do,” I whispered.
Wilder’s expression tightened, desperation flickering across his face like a storm he couldn’t hide anymore. “I know it’s a lot,” he said, his voice softer now, pleading instead of urgent. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. I’ve tried everything else, Sera. I swear I have.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a short line in front of me the same way he had when I first opened the door. “They’re not just asking questions anymore. They’re looking for me.” His words made the morning air feel colder against my skin.
“I can’t just walk up to her and ask for one hundred thousand,” I insisted, my hands trembling as I spoke. “She would want to know why. She would ask questions. And if she even thought I was lying—” My voice faltered as the image formed in my mind. Punishment. Disappointment. Consequences. “You don’t know what she’s like,” I finished quietly.
He stopped pacing and looked at me with an intensity that made my chest ache. “Then tell her the truth,” he said. “Tell her your brother is in trouble. Tell her you need help. People like her help people all the time, don’t they? Donations, charities, events… it’s the same thing.” His tone grew more hopeful with every word, like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. “To her, it’s nothing. To me, it’s everything.”
“It’s not the same,” I said, shaking my head again. “Charity is safe. Charity is distant. This would be personal.” The word felt heavy on my tongue. Personal meant risk. Personal meant attention. Personal meant she would look at me closer than she ever had before. “She would wonder why I didn’t say anything sooner. Why I hid it. Why I need so much. And once she starts asking questions, she won’t stop.”
Wilder stepped closer, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might hear him. “Sera, I’m running out of time.” The fear in his eyes cut straight through my hesitation. “If I don’t pay him soon, this stops being about money. You know what people like him do when patience runs out.” His words hung heavy in the air between us, filled with things he didn’t need to say out loud. My stomach twisted painfully at the unspoken threat.
“I’m not asking you to steal,” he added quickly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m just asking you to try. That’s all. Just try. If she says no, then at least I’ll know we didn’t give up without a fight.” He reached for my hands, gripping them tightly like they were the last solid thing he had left. “You’re the only person I can ask, Sera. I don’t have anyone else.”
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly from somewhere inside the corridor, sharp and unmistakable against the quiet morning. My heart jumped straight into my throat. I turned toward the door instinctively, panic rising fast and hot in my chest. “You have to go,” I whispered urgently, gripping Wilder’s sleeve. “Right now. If anyone sees you here, this gets worse. Please, Wilder—go.” My voice trembled with the weight of everything I wasn’t ready to face yet. “I’ll talk to her,” I added quickly, the promise escaping before fear could stop it. “I don’t know how, but I’ll try.”
Relief washed over his face so quickly it made my chest ache. He let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it for days. “Thank you,” he said quietly, squeezing my hands before letting them go. “I knew you wouldn’t turn your back on me.” He stepped away, glancing once over his shoulder toward the building as if it might swallow me whole. “Be careful,” he added softly, and then he turned and hurried down the steps, disappearing into the hedges.
I didn’t move right away. I stood there staring at the empty space he had left behind, the promise echoing louder and louder inside my mind. I’ll talk to her. The words felt enormous now, bigger than the doorway behind me, bigger than the wing upstairs, bigger than anything I had ever dared to ask before. Slowly, I turned back toward the staff entrance and slipped inside, closing the heavy door with careful precision. The click of the latch sounded far too loud in the quiet corridor, like it was sealing the decision in place. The hallway stretched ahead of me, long and polished and silent, but every step I took felt heavier than the last. It was as if the building itself could sense the secret I carried now.
By the time I reached the familiar corridor leading to Miss Elara’s wing, my pulse had climbed back into my throat. The fear returned in full force, sharper than before, because now it was tangled with guilt. I hesitated outside the door for a brief second, smoothing my hands against my apron and forcing my breathing to steady. Then I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The lounge greeted me with perfect stillness. Sunlight lay across the marble floor in bright, clean lines, and for a moment I thought I had walked into the wrong room. Everything gleamed. Every surface shone. The cushions were angled with flawless precision, the magazines stacked into neat, symmetrical lines, the rug smoothed until not a single ripple remained.
I stopped just inside the doorway, stunned by the sight. “Nielle?” I called softly, my voice echoing gently through the quiet space. She appeared from the hallway a second later, wiping her hands on her apron, a small, tired smile curving her lips when she saw me. “You made it back,” she said, relief softening her voice. The knot in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again. “You did all of this?” I asked, gesturing helplessly at the spotless room. My voice held a mix of disbelief and gratitude I couldn’t quite hide.
She shrugged lightly, though the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed how much work it had taken. “I didn’t want you getting into more trouble,” she said simply. The kindness in her words hit me harder than I expected, and my throat tightened as emotion rose unexpectedly behind my ribs. “Thank you,” I whispered, the words carrying far more weight than they sounded. I looked around the pristine lounge once more, relief washing over me in a slow, shaky wave. Outwardly, everything was perfect again. The wing was calm. The routine was intact. Nothing looked out of place.
But inside my chest, nothing felt calm at all. Because now I carried a promise that could change everything—and no idea how I was going to survive keeping it.