Jordan frowned. Why had the gateman said it like that?
The following morning, Jordan still could not shake the words he had heard the night before. They’ve grown so much. It had not sounded like something a gateman would say. It had sounded personal, deeply personal.
But before he could think too much about it, the busy rhythm of Hart Mansion had already begun. Servants moved quietly through the halls. The driver waited outside. Somewhere downstairs, Vanessa Hart was already on her first business call of the day, speaking in the cool, controlled voice that made board members sit up straight. In that house, morning never began with softness. It began with order.
Jallen and Jordan came downstairs in their school uniforms, neat as always. As they stepped outside, they found Elijah waiting by the gate with the same calm presence he always carried.
“Elijah, have you seen my math folder?” Jordan asked.
Elijah did not even hesitate. “You left it on the small table in the reading room under the blue magazine you were pretending to read.”
Jallen let out a laugh. “You even know when he’s pretending?”
Elijah’s eyes warmed. “I know many things.”
Jordan ran back inside and returned with the folder in seconds. He stared at Elijah with open curiosity.
“How do you always know these things?” Jallen asked, shaking his head. “It’s like you’ve known us forever.”
For one brief second, Elijah’s face changed. It was so quick that either boy could have imagined it. Then he smiled and opened the gate wider.
“Go on,” he said gently. “You don’t want to be late.”
The boys exchanged a look, but said nothing more.
Not far from the kitchen entrance stood Mama Agnes, the mansion’s longtime cook. She was an older woman with a strong presence, soft eyes, and the quiet authority of someone who had seen more than she ever said. She had worked in the household longer than many people could remember.
As she passed the gate with a basket of groceries, she noticed Elijah pull something from his pocket. It was an old photograph. The paper looked worn and faded, as if it had been touched too many times. Elijah stared at it for only a second before slipping it quickly back into his pocket, but Mama Agnes had seen enough to stiffen.
“Elijah,” she said quietly.
He looked up at once. “Mama Agnes.”
She lowered her voice. “Old fire still burns, doesn’t it?”
Elijah’s expression turned guarded. “Some things do not die.”
Before she could answer, the sound of heels cut through the front steps. Bianca Vale had arrived again. She entered the courtyard with expensive sunglasses, sharp perfume, and that polished smile that never reached her eyes. This time she went straight to Vanessa, who had just ended her call near the front terrace.
“The gala must be flawless,” Bianca said. “Every corner, every face, every worker.”
Vanessa folded her arms. “It will be.”
Leave a Comment