Chapter 66 Chapter 66: Running From the Wrong Kind of Attention

Chapter 66 Chapter 66: Running From the Wrong Kind of Attention


I suddenly realized what was happening. I pulled my hand free so suddenly that the movement surprised even me. His grip slipped from my wrist as if my skin had burned him, and for a split second neither of us moved. My pulse pounded in my ears, loud and uneven, and I could still feel the ghost of his fingers wrapped around my skin. I didn’t dare look at him again. 

The echo of Elara’s presence pressed heavily against my back, warm and possessive, and it was that feeling—more than anything—that forced my feet to move. I didn’t leave because of him. I left because of her. Because standing there, caught between them, felt like stepping into a fire I had no right to touch.

My steps came too quickly, heels striking the marble floor in sharp, hurried sounds that broke the fragile quiet of the corridor. I didn’t dare look behind me. I could still feel Elara wrapped around him, still feel the weight of her closeness lingering in the air like perfume. It chased me down the hallway, a reminder of who she was and who I was not. Fear tightened in my chest—not of punishment, but of being seen. Of being noticed in the wrong way.

The staircase appeared ahead of me like an escape. I gripped the railing, cold and smooth beneath my shaking fingers, and forced my breathing to slow. My thoughts tangled painfully together. If she had turned around… if she had noticed the way he held my wrist… the way the moment stretched too long… everything would have shattered. The idea of her eyes on me, sharp and questioning, sent a chill down my spine.

I descended the stairs quickly, the distance between the floors feeling like distance from danger itself. Each step felt like a desperate attempt to put space between me and the corridor I had fled. My heart hammered against my ribs, loud enough that I feared someone might hear it echoing through the quiet house. I told myself leaving was the only safe choice. The only smart choice. Yet the memory of his silent gesture asking me to stay followed me like a shadow.

By the time I reached the foyer, the house felt enormous and hollow. The quiet below was different—emptier, safer—but it did nothing to calm the storm twisting inside me. I wrapped my arms around myself, as if I could hold in the chaos threatening to spill out. I hadn’t run from him. I had run from the possibility of Elara seeing too much, understanding too much, and the consequences that would follow.

When the front doors opened and cool night air brushed against my face, relief came in a shaky breath. I stepped outside quickly, letting the doors close behind me with a soft final sound. Only then did I allow my shoulders to drop. I had escaped the corridor, escaped the risk of her suspicion—but the fear lingered, heavy.

The quiet scrape of footsteps over stone pulled me out of my thoughts, and when I turned, Madame Hester was already walking toward me from the side path that led to the staff wing. The lantern above the entrance lit her in warm gold, outlining the neat folds of her coat and the familiar, composed expression she wore like armor. She slowed when she saw me standing alone on the terrace, her brows knitting together in immediate concern.
“Sera?” she called softly. “What are you doing out here at this hour? You should be inside.”

My heart stumbled, and for a split second I had no answer ready. I wrapped my arms around myself as if the night air had suddenly turned colder. “I— I just needed a little air,” I said quickly, forcing a small, embarrassed smile. “The house felt… heavy tonight. After everything that happened, I couldn’t settle. I thought a few minutes outside might help clear my head before going back to work.” I let out a small breath and added, “I didn’t want to disturb anyone by pacing the corridors.”

Madame Hester tilted her head slightly, studying me in that quiet, observant way of hers. “You could have asked one of the maids to accompany you,” she replied gently. “It isn’t safe to wander alone this late.” Her voice softened, losing its edge of reprimand. “You look pale, child. Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, no, I’m alright,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “Just tired. It’s been a long night for everyone. I promise I was only going to stay a few minutes before heading back in.” I lowered my gaze, hoping the dim light would hide the rest of the truth I was swallowing. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

She watched me a moment longer, then gave a small sigh that carried more worry than suspicion. “This house has had enough fright for one evening,” she murmured. “I suppose a little fresh air isn’t the worst idea.” The tension in my chest loosened just enough for me to breathe again.

Before the silence could turn back toward me, I spoke quickly. “How is Sir Senior Varya?” I asked, my voice softer now. “I’ve been worried all night. No one has said much since the ambulance left.”

Madame Hester’s expression warmed with relief. “He’s out of danger,” she said, her tone gentle and reassuring. “The doctors said the fall looked worse than it was. They’re keeping him for observation, just to be safe. He’ll stay in the hospital tonight, but they expect him to recover well.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “That’s… that’s wonderful news. Thank goodness.” My shoulders dropped slightly, the tight knot in my chest easing at last.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “It’s been a frightening evening for the household, but it seems the worst has passed.  There’s nothing more to worry about tonight.”

Madame Hester glanced toward the dark stretch of lawn beyond the terrace, as if remembering something suddenly important. “Since you’re already out here,” she said,, “come walk with me to the front lawn. Madame Carol wants the grass checked tonight. Emmanuel promised it would be mowed before morning, and I’d rather not leave it to chance.” Her voice carried the calm authority of habit, the kind that turned even small tasks into quiet obligations. Without waiting for an answer, she began moving down the stone path, expecting me to follow.

I fell into step beside her, grateful for the simple task that gave my restless thoughts somewhere to hide. The gravel crunched softly beneath our shoes as we crossed the side garden, the hedges forming dark silhouettes against the silver glow of the moon. The mansion rose behind us like a silent giant, its windows glowing faintly with the last lights of the evening. The night air smelled of damp earth and trimmed leaves, the lingering scent of freshly cut grass already drifting toward us before the lawn even came into view.

When we reached the front grounds, the wide stretch of grass opened before us like a pale green sea under the moonlight. The faint, neat lines left by the mower ran in clean, parallel strokes across the lawn, catching the light with a soft sheen. Madame Hester slowed, scanning the grounds with careful approval. “Good,” she murmured, almost to herself. “He’s done a proper job. Madame Carol will be pleased.” There was a quiet satisfaction in her voice, the relief of one more task crossed off a never-ending list.

We turned back toward the mansion together, retracing our steps along the curved path that led to the grand front entrance. The towering doors stood ahead, framed by tall pillars and warm scone light that spilled down the marble steps like liquid gold. I kept my gaze lowered as we approached, letting the rhythm of our footsteps steady my breathing.

Then the low purr of an engine broke the stillness.

My head lifted instinctively toward the driveway.

At the base of the steps, beneath the glow of the front scone, Elara stood beside a sleek black car. The driver’s door was open, and Auren stood beside it, his tall frame outlined by the interior light spilling onto the gravel. Elara was close to him—too close—her hands resting lightly on his arm as she spoke, her posture soft with lingering concern and reluctant goodbye.

We slowed without meaning to, our steps quiet on the path as the scene unfolded ahead of us. Elara’s face tilted upward, her expression gentler than I had ever seen it, illuminated by the warm light above the entrance. The night air carried the faint murmur of their voices, too distant to understand, yet intimate enough to feel like something private we had stumbled upon by accident and then Auren reached for the car door, pausing just before he stepped inside. For a moment it looked like nothing more than a natural hesitation, the brief pause of someone making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Then his head lifted slightly, and his gaze shifted past the glow of the scones, past the marble steps, landing directly in our direction.

The distance between us was too far for anyone else to notice the exact path of his attention, yet I felt it unmistakably. His eyes didn’t search the lawn or the path. They didn’t wander. They found me with quiet certainty, as if he had known exactly where I would be standing. The moment stretched, thin and fragile, like a thread pulled too tight. From where Elara stood beside him, it must have looked like a simple pause before leaving. But from where I stood, it felt deliberate.

Then, just as quietly as it had begun, the moment ended. He lowered himself into the driver’s seat, the car door closing with a muted, final sound that echoed faintly across the drive. The engine deepened into a steady hum, headlights cutting through the darkness and spilling white light across the gravel and the wide front lawn.

The car rolled forward slowly at first, then gathered speed as it curved down the long driveway. The glow of the taillights faded into the distance until the gates swallowed the last trace of red, leaving the night silent once more. And somehow, the emptiness he left behind felt louder than the sound of the engine had been.