Chapter 5 Whispers and Warnings

Ayla's POV

By the time the dinner rush began, I had already mopped two corridors, polished a dozen brass fixtures, and narrowly avoided a collision with a man carrying a tray of wine glasses worth more than my entire wardrobe. My feet ached, my shoulders screamed, and yet my thoughts stayed stuck on the man from the hallway.

Dominic Blackwood's son.

I hadn't expected to see him-not so soon, and not like that. He was nothing like the photos I'd seen in newspapers or online articles. Damien Blackwood wasn't just polished and powerful-he radiated something sharper. Cold curiosity. As if he could cut you open with just a look.

And he looked at me.

Even if it was brief, even if he didn't say a word... it was there.

That unnerved me more than anything.

Because if he saw something in me-if he suspected-it would ruin everything.

I couldn't afford to attract attention. Not before I found the truth.

When I stood at the dining room corner folding napkins, I heard two older staff members in quiet conversation near the sideboard.

"You heard Mrs. Harrington's words," asked the heavier woman with developing gray hair.

"About the new girl? That she came in through a 'special' recommendation?"

The other scoffed. "I'm telling you, she doesn't belong here. You see the way Mr. Damien looked at her? There's something off."

My fingers froze mid-fold.

I kept my eyes down, pretending not to hear, but my stomach turned.

"She'll be gone in a week," the second woman continued. "They always are. The ones with secrets."

I blinked hard, willing myself to keep folding. Keep breathing.

I wasn't here to make friends. I wasn't here to prove anyone wrong. I just needed enough time.

Time to find answers. Time to confirm what my mother had been so certain of before she died-that Dominic Blackwood, billionaire and patriarch of this estate, was the man who'd abandoned us both.

And that meant Damien Blackwood-the man who'd passed me in the hallway like I was a ghost-was my half-brother.

I almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

But there was nothing funny about the weight of that truth.

"Miss Sinclair," came a sharp voice behind me.

I spun, startled. Mrs. Harrington.

She peered down her glasses at me with the grace of a military general. "The family will be dining on the terrace tonight. You're to assist Claire with the service. No speaking. No eye contact. Do your job and disappear. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said quickly.

She narrowed her eyes. The mistake many people make is to confuse good treatment from those in power with actual advantages. A single mistake will lead to your dismissal.

She departed after her command, leaving behind her lavender perfume and her commanding presence.

The western gardens spread out before the terrace when I reached there with my wine as the sun sank into the surrounding hills. Gold and lavender skies stretched above marble balustrades, and at the long table, the Blackwoods sat like royalty.

Dominic Blackwood. Damien. A woman I assumed was Dominic's wife. A few others-business partners, maybe. I didn't look too long.

As Claire elbowed me by the tray-bearing table, she caught my side. She whispered to me, "Remember to stay low."

I nodded my head while watching the tray placed in front of me. I served wine, then bread. I didn't flinch when Damien spoke to the woman beside him, his voice deep and clear. I didn't react when his gaze flickered toward me. And I certainly didn't look up.

But I felt it.

The weight of his stare.

He acted as though he was seeking answers to an incomplete jigsaw puzzle.

I departed from the moment I had the chance.

Back in the servants' quarters, I finally let myself breathe. Claire joined me a few minutes later, flopping down on the edge of my bed.

"You survived," she said, grinning.

"Barely."

She laughed softly, then grew serious. "Word of advice? Don't give them reasons to notice you."

I nodded. "I'm trying."

"Good." She hesitated. "Because if Damien Blackwood starts noticing you too much... it never ends well."

Her words lingered long after she left the room.

Because I didn't need Damien to notice me. I just needed him to stay out of my way.

The truth was close. I could feel it. In the halls. In the tension between walls. In the silence that always followed when someone said the name Sinclair.

They were hiding something.

And I would find it.

No matter what it costs me.