Chapter 3 The Return

The iron gates of the Thorne estate groaned as they slid open, a sound that felt like a funeral bell.

Walking up the gravel driveway, I felt the phantom weight of the dirt on my chest. The weeping willow had grown massive, its long, drooping branches swaying in the wind like green tentacles. Somewhere beneath those roots, my old bones were feeding the soil.

I didn't head for the grand double doors of the foyer. I took the narrow stone path to the servant’s entrance.

"You must be the new girl from the agency," a sharp voice snapped.

I froze. Standing in the kitchen was Mrs. Gabriel, the housekeeper. She had been there when I was mistress of the house. Back then, she had been a soft-spoken woman who made me chamomile tea when I worked late. Now, her face was drawn, her eyes darting nervously toward the ceiling.

"I'm Mira," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I had practiced this—the submissive slouch, the quiet, raspy voice.

"Well, Mira, you’re late. The Mistress is in a foul mood today, and the Master is already on his third scotch. Grab an apron quick, you’re starting in the master suite" she uttered, walking fast while I followed.

As I tagged along with her, my heart did a slow, sickening roll. "The master suite. My bedroom." I thought.

As I climbed the back stairs, the house felt different. It was colder, more like a cemetery. My beautiful and vibrant art collection had been replaced by gold-leafed monstrosities and oversized portraits of Nora. She had erased me completely" my heart burned with anger as I thought of her.

I reached the doorway of the master suite and stopped. The door was ajar.

"I told you, Jude, the smell is back!" Nora’s voice shrilled from inside. It was sharper than I remembered, stripped of the honey she used to coat it with.

"It’s in your head, Nora," Jude’s voice followed—deep, weary, and laced with a new, jagged edge of irritation. "The vents were cleaned twice this week."

"It’s her perfume! I can smell the lilies. Every time I walk past the willow tree, every time I enter this room... it’s like she’s standing right behind me, watching me with burning fire in her eyes. I just can't explain how I feel, it's creepy" Nora lamented.

I smiled cruelly as I squeezed the handle of my cleaning bucket. "Lilies, I haven't even started yet Nora, and yet your own guilt is already hallucinating my presence. I will deal with you, no caps"

"She’s gone, Nora. Remember? She is five years gone. Get a grip of yourself or get something to occupy yourself" Jude uttered.

He stepped out of the room, nearly colliding with me. I dropped my head instantly, my mousy hair falling forward to hide the scar on my face.

"Watch it," he growled.

I stayed perfectly still but my being burned with revenge. I could see his shoes- bespoke Italian leather, paid for by my dividends. I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath. My fingers itched to reach out and wrap around his throat, strangle him, I wanted him to feel the life leave him just as he had watched it leave me but I controlled myself.

"Sorry, sir," I whispered.

He paused. I felt his gaze linger on the top of my head. For a heartbeat, the world stopped. Did he recognize the way I stood? The way I breathed? The way I spoke.

"I see you are new," he said, his tone shifting from irritation to a low, predatory curiosity. He tilted his head, trying to see my face. "What happened to your cheek?"

"An accident, sir. A long time ago."

"Hmmm. At least you’re not as loud as the last one. Clean the bedroom , especially the bathroom. My wife thinks she smells ghosts." He brushed past me, his shoulder hitting mine. I didn't flinch. I waited until his footsteps faded down the hall before I entered the room.

Nora was sitting at my vanity, staring into the mirror I had bought in Paris months before they buried me alive. She looked older. The stress of living a lie had carved lines around her mouth that no amount of filler could hide.

"Don't just stand there, girl," she snapped without turning around. "The mirrors are streaked. And find out where that smell is coming from. If I find one lily in this house, I’ll have you fired by sunset."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, a wicked smile curling up at the corner of my lips..

I walked toward the vanity, picking up a silk cloth. As I polished the glass, our reflections met. She looked at the scarred, plain girl in the maid’s uniform, and I looked at the woman who had buried me.

She didn't see Saraphina. She saw a tool she could use. A nobody.

I leaned in a little closer, my hand moving in slow, rhythmic circles on the glass. "It’s a beautiful room, ma'am," I murmured. "But the air... it does feel a bit heavy. Like someone’s holding their breath."

Nora’s hand froze over her jewelry box, the one that held my grandmother’s emeralds. She looked at me in the mirror, her eyes widening. "What did you say?"

"The house," I said, my voice as soft as a shroud. "It has secrets. I can feel them."

"Just clean the damn glass," she hissed, but her fingers were shaking.

I smiled, a tiny, invisible thing. The psychological war had begun. That night, while they slept, I wasn't be cleaning. I would be in the basement, tapping into the smart-home server I had designed myself, the one Jude thought he had mastered, but whose "backdoor" code belonged only to me.