Chapter 5: The Silence of the House
Every person under that roof had the chance to speak.
The housekeeper who had once brought me tea when the morning sickness was worst looked at the floor. The security man who opened the side door for me on ordinary days kept his hands at his sides. Roman’s younger cousin, who lived in the east wing and had laughed at my stories about the restaurant, found somewhere else to be. Even the attorney who handled Kane family matters and had been present for part of the afternoon offered no objection that reached my ears.
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They had all calculated the same equation: Roman’s mother still controlled the daily temperature of the estate, and opposing her in the moment carried a cost none of them were willing to pay while Roman himself was absent. I walked out under that collective silence with both hands already curved around the curve of my stomach, the bare scalp stinging in the rising wind, the first cold drops of the storm beginning to find the back of my neck.
The gates closed behind me with the soft, expensive sound of a mechanism that had never been required to open for someone leaving against her will.
