Chapter 4: The Estate Has Rules
Silvio did not let the children out of his sight that night.
He put Ethan and Mia in the guest suite on the second floor of the east wing — his wing, the one Grant had no key to — and he sat in the chair by the window until both of them were asleep.
Ethan went under fast, the way exhausted children do, like a switch being thrown.
Mia took longer.
She lay on her side facing the wall and Silvio watched the tension leave her shoulders one slow degree at a time until her breathing finally steadied.
He stayed another twenty minutes after that.
Just to be sure.
In the corridor outside, he found his head of household staff, a woman named Petra who had worked at the estate for eleven years.
"Has this happened before?" he said.
"While I've been traveling.
Have you seen anything."
Petra looked at him steadily.
"I've seen things I didn't know how to name."
"Name them now."
She folded her hands in front of her.
"The children eat in the kitchen most evenings.
Not the dining room.
Mrs.
Harlow prefers dinner without interruption." She paused.
"Ethan was found sleeping in the garden shed in April.
He said he'd locked himself in by accident.
I wasn't sure I believed him." Another pause.
"Mia stopped asking for her mother sometime around February.
I noticed because she used to ask every morning."
Silvio stood very still.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I told Mr.
Harlow," Petra said.
"He said children go through phases.
He said if I raised it again he would have to reconsider my position here."
The corridor was quiet.
Somewhere below them a clock was ticking.
"Your position is not at risk," Silvio said.
"Not from me.
Not ever."
Petra nodded once.
"There's something else." She reached into her jacket pocket and produced a folded piece of paper.
"I found this in the kitchen bin three weeks ago.
I kept it because I didn't know what else to do with it."
Silvio unfolded it.
It was a handwritten note.
The handwriting was Lucinda's — he had known it since they were children.
The note was addressed to no one.
It read: *If something happens to them before the anniversary, the trust reverts.
Check the amendment.
Section 4, clause 9.*
He read it twice.
"Where did this come from?" he said.
"I don't know.
It was folded inside a takeaway bag.
Like someone had written it and then thrown it away without thinking."
Silvio looked at the note again.
*If something happens to them before the anniversary.*
He thought about the question Grant had asked in the valet court.
*They're still alive?*
Not: are they all right.
Not: thank God.
Not: what happened.
*They're still alive.*
"Lock the east wing tonight," he said.
"Both stairwells.
Use the old bolt on the garden door, not the electronic one.
And Petra—" He folded the note carefully and put it in his own pocket.
"Don't tell anyone we spoke."
She was already walking back toward the stairs when Grant's voice came from the far end of the corridor.
"Silvio." He was leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.
His jacket was gone.
He looked relaxed.
He looked like a man who had been waiting.
"We should talk.
Properly this time.
Without the audience."
"It's late," Silvio said.
"It won't take long." Grant pushed off the wall and walked toward him.
"I want to apologize for earlier.
I was defensive.
That wasn't fair to you."
Silvio watched him come.
"The children are fine," Grant continued.
"I know it looked bad.
I know what Ethan said.
But kids that age misremember things.
They dramatize.
You know that."
"He said it wasn't the first time."
"He's six." Grant stopped a few feet away.
"Silvio.
I love those kids.
You know that."
"I don't know that," Silvio said.
"I'm realizing I don't know that at all."
Grant's expression shifted — just slightly, just enough.
"I'm trying to have a reasonable conversation with you."
"Then tell me what Section 4, clause 9 of the trust amendment says."
The corridor went very quiet.
Grant's face did not change.
But his right hand, which had been loose at his side, closed slowly into a fist.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"Then we don't have anything to talk about tonight," Silvio said.
"Good night, Grant."
He walked back toward the east wing and did not look back.
May you like
But he listened.
And Grant stood in that corridor for a long time before he moved.
