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Whispers Behind Locked doors

“She has no shame..?” A lady in her late 40’s muttered.

“Yes…I wonder how she did it.” Another added.

“Well, who won't cling to man like the Harrington's?” One chuckled tapping one them.

They were talking about Charlotte, unknown to them, Charlotte was there listening to all they were saying.

Charlotte began to adapt to life in Astor’s mansion, though it was far from easy. 

The sheer grandeur of the place made her feel like a stranger. She felt unsettled.

Their whispers followed her down the corridors, their judgmental stares a constant reminder that she was an outsider. Some of them smiled politely, but it never reached their eyes. Others barely hid their disdain.

As for Jasmine? Nothing mattered to her anymore, she would run round the yard without being stopped, her happiness was pitched.

Astor, meanwhile, remained as emotionally detached as ever. He was watching everything without engaging much. 

Yet, Charlotte noticed something peculiar. Whenever Jasmine was around, Astor’s guarded demeanor softened. He didn’t speak much to her, but his eyes often lingered on her.

One afternoon, Charlotte caught him watching as Jasmine giggled, running circles around a maid who was trying to clean. The corners of Astor’s mouth twitched, as though he was suppressing a smile.

“You can join her, you know,” Charlotte said, breaking the silence.

Astor blinked, the momentary softness vanishing as he turned to her. “I’m not in the habit of chasing children,” he said coldly, walking away before she could respond.

Charlotte rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Of course you’re not.”

\---

It was on the fourth day that things took a strange turn. Jasmine was busy exploring the mansion while Charlotte was busy in the kitchen discussing menus with the chef.

“Don’t wander too far!” Charlotte had called after her.

“Okay, Mommy!” Jasmine had replied, her voice already fading as she ran off.

Jasmine roamed through the sprawling halls, her small feet barely making a sound on the polished floors. She peeked into various rooms, her eyes wide with wonder at the luxurious furnishings. 

But then she came across something unusual, a door at the end of a corridor, it was a bit opened and appeared unusual.

She pushed t open just enough to peer inside, she found a dimly lit room filled with strange objects. Old photographs sat on shelves, and a large chest was pushed against one wall. It was looking as though it hadn’t been touched in years.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she stepped inside.

“Jasmine!”

Astor’s voice boomed down the corridor, startling her. He appeared seconds later, his usually composed expression now one of visible anger.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded, his voice low and sharp as he stepped inside and grabbed her hand.

“I was just looking,” Jasmine said, her voice small and trembling.

Astor knelt in front of her, his tone softening slightly. “This room is off-limits, Jasmine,” he said firmly. “You can’t come in here. Do you understand?”

Jasmine nodded quickly, her wide eyes brimming with tears.

Charlotte arrived moments later, out of breath from running. “What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze darting between Astor and Jasmine.

“Maybe you should tell her to stay at a place and stop entering every room she sees,” Astor said curtly, straightening to his full height.

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she noticed the tension in his tone. “What’s in there?” she asked, glancing toward the open door.

Astor moved quickly, stepping in front of her to block her view. “It’s none of your business,” he snapped.

Charlotte’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me? If it involves my daughter, it is my business.”

Astor’s eyes darkened, his tone dropping. “Drop it, Charlotte.”

She had never seen him this unhinged, not even during their arguments. But before she could push further, Astor turned and slammed the door shut, locking it with a key he brought out from his pocket.

\---

That night, Charlotte couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Astor’s reaction had been too extreme, too defensive. What was in that room that he was so desperate to hide?

Charlotte sat by her bedroom window, staring out at of the window. Her thoughts swirled with unanswered questions. She was about to crawl into bed when the faint sound of voices outside her door caught her attention.

She froze, her heart pounding as she strained to hear.

“…it’s a risk,” a man’s voice said, low but urgent.

“You think I don’t know that?” Astor’s voice replied, sharper than usual.

Charlotte’s curiosity burned. Rising from her bed, she crept toward the door and pressed her ear against it.

“She’s already suspicious,” the first voice continued. “If she finds out..”

“She won’t,” Astor interrupted, his tone clipped. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Charlotte’s breath hitched. Were they talking about her?

“She’s not the problem,” Astor added, his voice dropping lower. “The real threat is from the board. If I don’t meet the conditions soon, they’ll force my hand.”

“Then why risk involving her?” the other man asked.

“I don’t have a choice,” Astor replied bitterly. “It’s the only way to secure the inheritance.”

There was a brief pause.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” the other man said finally.

Astor’s voice turned icy. “I don’t need you to remind me of the stakes.”

Charlotte’s mind raced as she tried to put the conversations together. But before she could process it fully, the sound of footsteps approaching her door made her heart leap.

She darted back to her bed, pulling the covers over herself just as the door creaked open.

A figure appeared in the doorway, shown by the faint light from the hallway.

“I know you were listening,” the man said, his voice cold and threatening.

Charlotte’s blood ran cold as the figure stepped closer, his face coming into view. It wasn’t Astor, it was the other man from the hallway.

She didn't know him and wasn't sure if she'd seen him before.

“Stay away from what doesn't concern you,” he warned, his eyes narrowing. “For your sake, and your daughter’s.”