Chapter 45 Chapter 45: The Choice Between Duty and Blood
The next day, I always woke before the sun when it came to Miss Elara, but that morning I had barely slept at all. Every hour of the night had replayed the sound of shattering glass in my head, sharp and endless, like the echo refused to die. By the time dawn crept through the windows, my chest already felt tight with dread. Still, routine did not wait for fear. My hands moved automatically—warming towels, pressing the robe, preparing the rosewater tray—each motion careful and exact, as if perfection might somehow protect me from memory.
The suite door opened with a soft click beneath my fingers, and the quiet inside wrapped around me like a warning. The room looked untouched by last night’s storm. The bed pristine. The air calm. The silence almost gentle. It made the fear worse. I stepped inside slowly, placing the tray down with trembling precision. Steam curled upward in thin white ribbons, and I stared at it for a second longer than necessary, whispering inside my head, Please don’t remember. Please let today begin like nothing happened.
I crossed to the curtains and pulled them open in one smooth motion. Sunlight spilled across the room, golden and bright, sliding across the floor and climbing toward the bed. The light touched her face softly, like it didn’t understand the danger in waking her. I clasped my hands behind my back and stood perfectly still, my pulse beating in my ears as the seconds stretched unbearably long.
She stirred.
The smallest shift beneath the sheets made my stomach drop. Miss Elara’s lashes fluttered before her eyes opened, slow and heavy with sleep. Her gaze found me immediately, sharp even in the haze of morning. I straightened instinctively.
“Good morning, Miss,” I said quietly. “Your towels are warm. Your robe is pressed. Rosewater is ready.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her eyes moved slowly around the room, inspecting every detail like a queen surveying her kingdom. I watched that silent evaluation with a knot in my throat, counting every second that passed without criticism as a fragile victory.
“You opened the curtains at the correct time today,” she murmured at last.
Relief flickered weakly. “Yes, Miss. I thought the light was perfect.”
She reached for the towel, pressing it gently to her cheek. “The temperature is right.” A pause. “The tray is aligned properly.” Another pause. “The robe is pressed without creases.”
Hope dared to bloom. Maybe—just maybe—
“You’re afraid.”
The words froze the air in my lungs. “Miss?”
Her eyes met mine, sharp now, fully awake. “You only shake like that when you know you’ve disappointed me.”
My fingers tightened painfully behind my back. “I’m not afraid,” I whispered, even though my voice betrayed me.
Her lips curved faintly. “You’re a terrible liar, Sera.”
My heart began to pound harder. “I only want everything to be right for you.”
She sat up slowly, letting silence stretch between us until it became unbearable. “Do you think I forget things easily?” she asked softly.
My breath caught. “No, Miss.”
“Good,” she said. “Because I don’t.”
The hope inside me shattered instantly. I felt it break like glass in my chest.
“You ruined my evening,” she continued, voice calm and precise. “In front of my friends. Do you understand how embarrassing that was?”
“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, panic rising in my throat. “I didn’t mean to. I checked the temperature twice. I thought—”
“You thought,” she repeated, voice turning colder. “That was your first mistake.”
I swallowed hard. “Please… it won’t happen again.”
“Oh, I know,” she replied, standing and slipping into the robe I had prepared. “Because you’re going to remember this lesson every time you touch a bottle again.”
Fear crawled slowly through my stomach. “Miss… please.”
“You will clean my entire wing today,” she said, tying the robe with a slow deliberate pull. “Every room. Every floor. Every surface.”
My knees felt weak. “Yes, Miss.”
“And you will skip meals,” she added lightly, as if discussing breakfast plans. “Until I am satisfied with your attitude.”
The room tilted slightly. Hunger suddenly felt real and immediate, like a shadow already waiting for me. “Miss… I—”
“Until I am satisfied,” she repeated, her voice firmer now. “Do you understand?”
My throat tightened painfully. “Yes, Miss.”
She stepped closer, her presence suddenly overwhelming. “Say it properly.”
“I understand, Miss,” I forced out, my voice barely steady.
Her gaze lingered on my face, studying every flicker of emotion I tried desperately to hide. “Good. Because disappointment has consequences.”
I lowered my eyes, afraid she might see the tears gathering there. “I won’t disappoint you again.”
“You already have,” she said softly. “Now you’re going to fix it. Start now”
I nodded quickly, even though my chest felt too tight to breathe. I heard the bathroom door close with a soft, decisive click, followed by the distant rush of running water. The sound echoed through the suite like a countdown I couldn’t stop. For a moment I stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom, staring at nothing while the reality of the day settled heavily over my shoulders. Then I forced my feet to move. If I was going to survive this punishment, hesitation wasn’t allowed.
“I’ll start with the lounge,” I whispered to myself, the words barely louder than the hum of the air conditioner. Saying it out loud made it feel official—like the beginning of a very long sentence I had no choice but to serve.
The lounge greeted me with perfect stillness when I stepped inside. Sunlight stretched across the marble floor in long pale lines, catching dust I was certain hadn’t existed yesterday. Now it felt like the entire room had decided to betray me at once. I tightened my grip on the cleaning cloth. “You picked the worst day to be imperfect,” I muttered quietly to the empty room.
I started with the coffee table, wiping its glass surface in slow, careful circles. Every movement felt heavier than it should have, like my arms were already tired even though the day had barely begun. “Every surface,” I repeated under my breath, echoing her words. “Every room. Every floor.” The sentence replayed again and again until it stopped sounding like instructions and started sounding like a warning.
The silence pressed in around me, broken only by the faint rush of water from the bathroom down the hall. I glanced toward the doorway instinctively, lowering my voice as if she might hear me through the walls. “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “Just don’t make another mistake. Not one.”
I moved to the shelves next, lifting each decorative piece with both hands like it was fragile crystal—even the ones that clearly weren’t. My fingers trembled slightly as I dusted beneath them. “Perfect,” I murmured, placing a sculpture back exactly where it had been. Then I nudged it half a centimeter to the left. Then back again. My heart raced as if the object itself might report me.
When the cloth slipped from my hand and fell to the floor, the sound felt thunderous in the quiet room. I froze instantly, staring at it like it had betrayed me. “It’s fine,” I whispered quickly, crouching to pick it up. “It’s fine, nothing broke.” My voice sounded shaky even to my own ears.
I straightened and looked around the lounge, trying to see it through Miss Elara’s eyes. The cushions weren’t angled perfectly. The magazines weren’t aligned. The rug had the faintest ripple near the edge. Suddenly the room felt endless. “This is going to take all day,” I breathed, my chest tightening.
I smoothed the cushions carefully, pressing each corner into place. “You have to finish before she checks,” I murmured. “You have to.” The words felt like a promise and a plea at the same time.
I had just bent to smooth the edge of the rug for the third time when a soft knock sounded at the open door behind me. The sudden noise made my heart jump into my throat, and I straightened so quickly the room tilted for a second.
“Sera?” a familiar voice called gently.
I turned, breath still uneven, and saw Nielle standing in the doorway, her hands folded in front of her apron as if she wasn’t sure whether she was interrupting something important or dangerous.
“Nielle,” I breathed, pressing my hand flat against my chest. “You scared me.”
Her brows knit together with concern. “I’m sorry. I knocked twice. You didn’t hear.”
“I… didn’t,” I admitted quietly. “I was just—” I gestured vaguely to the cloth in my hand, the polished table, the painfully straight cushions. “Cleaning.”
Her gaze swept over the lounge and softened with understanding. “Miss Elara’s punishment?”
I nodded once. Saying the word out loud felt heavier than carrying it silently.
Nielle hesitated, shifting her weight before speaking again. “Sera… someone is here to see you.”
My stomach dropped instantly. Visitors never came for me. Not here. Not ever. “Me?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “He’s waiting outside. By the staff entrance.”
Confusion flickered through me. “Who is it?”
Nielle’s expression changed in a way that made my heartbeat stumble. Something gentler. Almost sympathetic. “He said his name is Wilder.”
For a second, the world went completely still.
My grip loosened, and the cloth slipped from my hand again, forgotten as the name echoed in my ears.
“Wilder?” I repeated, breath catching halfway through the word. “My brother is here?”
“He wouldn’t leave,” Nielle said softly. “He said he needs to see you. He’s been waiting for a while.”
A rush of emotions hit me all at once—shock, fear, confusion, and a sudden aching warmth I hadn’t felt in months. “OH GOD I FORGOT BOUT HIM… but Why would he come here?” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “He was never supposed to come here.”
Nielle stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “He looks worried, Sera.”
My chest tightened painfully. “Of course he does,” I murmured.
For a moment I just stood there, torn between the spotless lounge in front of me and the door behind Nielle that suddenly felt like it led to another life.
“I’m not supposed to leave the wing,” I said quietly, the reminder tasting bitter on my tongue.
Nielle’s eyes softened. “He’s your brother.”
The words landed gently but heavily at the same time.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, inhaling slowly as my heart began to race for an entirely different reason. “Is Miss Elara still in the bathroom?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I exhaled shakily. “Then I don’t have long.”