CHAPTER 8 — What She Was Taught to Hide
The security footage was reviewed at 2:00 a.m.
Not because Roman suspected her.
Because he suspected the house.
Blackmere House didn’t become what it was by accident.
It became it through silence.
And silence always leaves traces.
In the footage, Nora is seen walking through the corridor.
Normal pace.
Cart wheels humming softly.
Then the uneven tile.
The sudden shift.
The fall.
And Roman stepping into frame.
Reaching out.
And her immediate reaction:
Arms over head.
Body folded.
Instant submission.
Not fear of falling.
Fear of impact.
Roman watched it once.
Then again.
Then paused the frame.
Long silence.
His security chief spoke carefully.
“That response isn’t normal workplace anxiety,” he said.
Roman didn’t answer immediately.
Then:
“No,” he said.
“It’s learned.”
He closed the file.
“Check her previous employment history,” he said.
“And don’t ask HR.”
The security chief hesitated.
“Sir… if we dig too deeply—”
Roman cut him off.
“I want to know what she survived,” he said.
A pause.
“Not what she applied for.”
Meanwhile, Nora was in the laundry annex when she was approached by another staff member.
A senior housekeeper.
Her tone was sharp.
“You’ve been moved up fast,” she said.
Nora kept her eyes down.
“I didn’t ask for it.”
The woman scoffed.
“People don’t get moved like that unless they’re useful.”
Nora said nothing.
The woman leaned closer.
“Or protected,” she added.
That word landed differently.
Like something dangerous disguised as kindness.
Later that night, Nora overheard two staff members near the service kitchen.
“She’s his project now.”
“No one just gets written notes from him.”
“Did you see the flinch?”
“They all break eventually.”
Nora stopped walking.
Her tray trembled slightly in her hands.
Not because of them.
But because part of her wondered if they were right.
📖 CHAPTER 4 — The Room Beneath the House
Roman invited her to the lower archive room.
Nora didn’t know why she went.
But she did.
The room had no windows.
Only files.
Years of estate records.
Contracts.
Security logs.
Employment histories.
And silence stored in paper form.
Roman stood by a table.
“You recognize any of these names?” he asked.
He slid a file toward her.
Nora looked.
Her breath stopped.
A former estate supervisor.
The same one from her previous job.
The man who used to correct staff with too much force in his voice.
Too close.
Too often.
Too controlled.
Nora stepped back slightly without realizing it.
Roman noticed immediately.
“That’s him,” she whispered.
Roman nodded once.
“He was transferred here before you arrived,” he said.
Nora’s voice barely came out.
“I didn’t know.”
“I know,” Roman replied.
A pause.
Then:
“You were not supposed to be near him again.”
Silence.
Then Nora asked the question she didn’t want to ask.
“Why are you showing me this?”
Roman looked at her for a long moment.
“Because I think you believe fear is normal,” he said.
A pause.
May you like
“And it isn’t.”
For the first time, Nora didn’t look away.
