Chapter 2

The years at the Hamilton estate blurred into a routine of careful observation and quiet endurance.

Kyler's moods were a treacherous tide, pulling me under, then spitting me out.

Some days, he craved my presence. He'd have me sit in his room for hours while he read or stared out the window, the silence thick with unspoken anxieties.

On those days, my "aura" seemed to work. A fragile peace would settle.

Other days, he was a storm of sharp words and disdain.

"You're just furniture that breathes, Emily."

"Don't you get tired of pretending you care?"

"This whole setup is a farce. You're here for the paycheck. I'm here because I'm defective."

I learned to navigate his tempers. I read books on psychology, on anxiety disorders, trying to understand, to find better ways to help.

I learned his preferences: the exact temperature of his tea, the type of music that sometimes calmed him, the authors he tolerated.

I tried to make his space more comfortable, suggesting softer lighting, bringing in a plant once.

He'd scoffed. "Don't try to redecorate my cage, Emily."

The plant withered in a dark corner.

Mrs. Hamilton would occasionally inquire about my "progress" with Kyler. Her tone was always polite, but the expectation was clear. I was a service, a highly specialized one.

The worst was the annual Hamilton Foundation charity gala.

This year, Kyler was on a new medication. He seemed more stable, almost buoyant.

He insisted on attending, a rare occurrence.

I was there, of course, a shadow in a simple dress, ready to manage any potential meltdown.

During a lull, Kyler, a champagne flute in hand, spotted Noah Baker across the room.

Noah worked at the local library, which received some funding from the Hamilton Foundation. He was volunteering, handing out programs.

Kyler's smile turned predatory.

He beckoned Noah over, his voice carrying in the suddenly quiet room.

"Baker, isn't it? From the library."

Noah, looking uncomfortable in his borrowed suit, nodded.

"I have a proposition for you," Kyler announced, his eyes glinting. He gestured towards me.

"My companion, Emily. She has this... remarkable calming effect."

He paused, enjoying the attention.

"I'm feeling much better these days. Less need for such... specialized care."

My blood ran cold.

"So, I'm thinking of transferring her service contract." He swirled his champagne. "To you. For, say, one dollar?"

A ripple of uneasy laughter went through the nearby guests.

Kyler's gaze met mine, full of malicious amusement.

"A cheap comfort for a cheap life, wouldn't you say, Baker? Seems fitting."

The room spun. My carefully constructed composure shattered.

Noah stared at Kyler, his face pale with anger.

But Kyler was looking at me, a triumphant, cruel smile on his face.