Chapter 3

At six o'clock the next morning, there was a pounding on my door.

"Mr. Hayes uses the dining room at seven. You need to be finished and gone by six-thirty."

I sat at the breakfast table, my face pale from lack of sleep.

Plain broth, pickled vegetables, and nothing else.

At precisely six-thirty, with my bowl still half full, the housekeeper came to clear the table.

"Time's up."

I glanced at the broth, said nothing, put down my spoon, and left.

At ten o'clock that morning, Skylar called me to the living room.

Jaxson sat on the sofa, scrolling through his phone, not even bothering to lift his eyelids.

Skylar slapped a printed document onto the coffee table.

"These are the house rules. I'll say them once, and only once."

"Wake up at six AM, no sleeping in. No medicine bottles in common areas – it's an eyesore. Jaxson's study, the gym, and the entire third floor are off-limits."

She paused.

"And—Jaxson doesn't like to be disturbed. Don't go seeking him out unnecessarily."

I listened, finding it a bit amusing.

I'm not some groupie; why would I want to be near him?

But there was no need to cause a scene over such a minor thing.

"I understand."

Skylar seemed pleased with my obedience.

I turned to Jaxson, still wanting to confirm.

"Mr. Hayes, do you… agree with all of this?"

He finally lifted his eyelids.

"What she said is what I mean."

Fine.

Nothing more to say, then.

That afternoon, I was reading in the private courtyard, soaking up the sun.

Skylar suddenly appeared at the gate, holding a focus mitt in her arms.

"Elara Sterling, I heard you've been sickly since you were a child?"

I nodded.

Suddenly, she threw the focus mitt at me.

It was fast and packed a punch, heading right for my face.

My body instinctively moved to catch it, but I forced myself to swerve mid-air, stumbling a couple of steps and falling to the ground.

"Cough, cough, cough... why did you suddenly throw something..."

I coughed, clutching my chest, my voice sounding weak and wronged.

Skylar frowned, staring at me for a few seconds.

"Can't even dodge a simple toss. Pathetic."

She picked up the mitt and walked off.

I sat on the ground, slowly unclenching my fist.

That was close.

I almost caught it.

Before dinner, I was carrying the soothing herbal brew Daisy had made for my lungs, walking down the hallway.

Skylar emerged from the gym and immediately spotted the bowl in my hands.

"Who said you could use the main kitchen?"

"Daisy used my own ingredients—"

"Your ingredients, maybe, but the utilities are the family's, right?" She cut me off. "Dump it."

This time, I didn't immediately comply.

I looked at her, my voice still soft, but firm.

"Skylar, this brew is for my bronchitis, it's not some exotic dish.

"I don't want to bother Mr. Hayes with such a small matter, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't make things difficult for me over it, okay?"

Skylar paused, seemingly surprised that I'd talked back.

She tilted her head towards the gym.

"Do you want Jaxson to come tell you himself?"

Jaxson was leaning against a punching bag, a towel draped over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over casually.

He still said nothing.

But his silence was his answer.

I stood there, clutching the bowl of brew Daisy had spent two hours making.

Three thousand families.

The port project.

Six months.

I closed my eyes.

I turned and walked to the end of the hallway, pouring the broth into a nearby planter.

Skylar laughed out loud behind me.

I didn't turn back.

The ceramic bowl, however, now had a silent crack forming along its rim, courtesy of my fingers.

She called out to me again.

"Wait."