Chapter 137: The Test Upstairs

Time moved strangely inside a family house.

Outside, hours had edges. Meetings began, contracts required signatures, calls interrupted other calls, and every minute could be measured by who wanted something and how expensive it would be to refuse. At home, especially in a house like the Blackwood residence, time had a way of spreading out until it no longer felt like anything. A person could waste half a day doing nothing in particular and only notice when the light through the windows changed.

It had the same useless softness as a weekend.

By late afternoon, Liora Voss had finally cleared the work that had been piling up for far too long. She leaned back in her chair and stretched, slow and unguarded, until the tension left her shoulders. A faint wetness gathered at the corners of her eyes from the motion, softening the sharpness of her gaze for a moment and giving her face an almost lazy beauty.

She rose and headed downstairs for something to eat.

When she reached the upper landing, she saw the dining room below.

The table had been set with complete precision. Plates arranged, silverware aligned, dishes placed in clean order. The household table was not for staff or guests unless invited. It belonged to the people of the house. Before Elias, that had meant Serena and Liora. Now, whether anyone admitted it aloud or not, a third place existed for him.

Liora had come down late enough that Serena and Elias should have finished long ago.

Instead, the dishes looked untouched.

Steam still rose from several of them. Nothing had been disturbed. The arrangement was too complete, too intact, as if the staff had prepared everything and then been ordered to let the meal wait.

Liora descended the stairs and turned to a nearby housekeeper. "They haven’t eaten?"

"No, Ms. Voss."

Liora’s brows drew together. "Why didn’t anyone call them down?"

Coldness slipped into her expression.

In a house like this, missing a meal was not a small oversight when the household had been instructed to prepare one. It meant someone had failed to monitor the people they were meant to serve, or someone had chosen not to interfere and hoped no one important would ask.

The housekeeper immediately looked frightened. "Ms. Voss, Ms. Blackwood told us not to call her for lunch."

"And Elias?"

"He’s with Ms. Blackwood," the housekeeper said quickly. After explaining, she glanced at Liora’s face and added with caution, "Would you like to eat first?"

Liora shook her head.

Her gaze tightened.

What could Elias and Serena be doing together that would make them forget a meal?

Naturally, there was one obvious answer.

But they had never reached the point where afternoon lunch simply disappeared from the day. Serena was possessive, not usually careless. Even indulgence had its structure with her.

Liora was about to leave when the housekeeper, seeing her expression, hurried to add something else.

"Ms. Voss?"

Liora turned back. "What?"

"Ms. Blackwood asked us to bring a few things upstairs."

Liora’s attention settled on her. "What things?"

"Bandages."

The word landed inside Liora’s mind and immediately built an image.

Her breathing changed for half a second.

Then she seemed to think of something else, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth.

The housekeeper saw that smile and visibly relaxed.

She was about to step away when Liora said, "You handled that well. Your salary doubles from now on. Tell the house manager I said so."

The housekeeper’s face lit with surprise. She quickly remembered herself, lowered her voice, and said, "Thank you, Ms. Voss."

Liora gave a small nod.

Then she lifted her head and looked toward the second floor.

There was something unreadable in her eyes.

So Serena had noticed.

Of course she had. Her sister’s business instincts were sharp enough to smell rot through polished walls. Why would they fail here? Serena had already suspected once and forced herself to let it go. With the gift Liora had handed her, she would have to be dead not to understand.

Now she was waiting.

Waiting for Liora to walk over on her own.

The thought made Liora smile again.

She went upstairs and stopped first outside Serena’s bedroom. The door stood open. No one was inside.

Then Liora moved to Serena’s home office and stood before the door. She knocked lightly.

"Look at the time."

A while passed before Serena’s voice came from inside.

"Oh," Serena said, as if the discovery had only just occurred to her. "It’s already lunch."

Liora lowered her eyes. Her tone carried a trace of amusement and a thin edge of mockery. "Then come downstairs and eat. You only just recovered. Don’t wear yourself out and faint."

Serena seemed to laugh softly from the other side of the door. "I can’t help it. This is too interesting."

"Really?" Liora’s voice sounded curious, while her face gave nothing away. "What is?"

"Come in and see for yourself."

Liora opened the door without hesitation.

Serena’s office had the same severe simplicity as its owner. Clean lines, dark wood, controlled lighting, no unnecessary softness except for the expensive carpet underfoot. It was not meant to look warm. It was meant to make people remember who owned the room.

The layout itself was ordinary enough for a private office. Desk, shelves, a low sofa, a few chairs arranged for conversations that were never truly equal.

Liora looked toward the sofa.

Serena stood beside it, smiling at her.

Liora did not need Serena to gesture. Her eyes were pulled naturally to what lay on the sofa.

At first glance, it looked like a body prepared for a strange, clinical burial.

Then the shape resolved.

A person had been wrapped tightly in bandages from body to head. The wrapping held him straight, arms pressed to his sides, legs together, body arranged with unnerving neatness. Whoever had been bound like that had not fought. If he had struggled, he could not have maintained such a clean, rigid posture.

The bandages covered not only his body but his entire head. There was no visible opening for his mouth, no clear space for breath.

Only his feet had been left bare.

They rested exposed against the sofa, pale against the fabric, the toes drawn tight from tension. The sight should have looked absurd. Instead, it made him seem less like a person and more like an object someone had wrapped, placed, and claimed.

There was no need to ask who it was.

Elias Kane.

Serena watched Liora. "What do you think?"

Her eyes stayed on Liora’s face, tracking every tiny change.

Under that scrutiny, Liora showed only mild surprise. "Elias?"

"Who else?" Serena’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Liora made a soft sound of interest, but her gaze did not linger on Elias. Instead, she looked at Serena.

Serena frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Liora smiled. "Why do you think? I’m wondering how you talked him into playing this with you."

This was not only obedience.

A person needed a certain interest for this as well. If that interest did not exist, then the affection required to agree would be deep enough to become difficult to measure.

"I won him over, obviously," Serena said with a light laugh.

She noticed the way Liora looked at the bound figure and added, "It’s fine. I put an eye mask on him first, and earplugs. He can’t hear us."

Then Serena’s smile deepened by a fraction.

"He’s truly in love with me now."

As she said it, her eyes never left Liora’s face.

She wanted a crack. A flash of stiffness. A delay in breath. A misstep, even a small one, would have been enough.

Liora gave her none.

Instead, she looked pleased. Almost relieved.

"That wasn’t easy," Liora said. "I thought you’d never manage to take him down."

Serena gave a low scoff. "There is nothing I want that I can’t have."

Her gaze sharpened. "Besides, didn’t you hit a wall too? With your little kitten?"

Liora sighed when the little kitten came up.

She shook her head, and her eyes shifted slightly upward to the left, the natural movement of someone searching through memory. Her expression carried the weariness of an old failure, but not the kind of pain Serena wanted.

She was remembering a kitten.

That person was not Elias.

Liora shook her head again, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter.

So far, her performance was flawless.

There was no abnormal reaction. No panic. No jealousy. No instinctive glance toward Elias that lasted a breath too long.

Unfortunately, every perfect response lined up with Serena’s prediction.

Serena’s eyes darkened.

Under Liora’s gaze, she sat down beside Elias’s wrapped head.

Then she placed her hand over where his mouth and nose would be beneath the bandages.

If the bandages had already stolen most of his right to breathe, Serena’s hand made the denial absolute. It pressed him backward toward the edge of something lethal, turning the game from strange to unmistakably dangerous.

Elias’s body shook at once.

His bare feet tightened, the toes flexing hard. Even the smooth skin along the soles creased with the effort of holding still through instinctive struggle. The movement was small, contained by the wrapping, but not calm.

Liora watched with the expression of someone enjoying a performance.

She did not step forward.

She did not tell Serena to stop.

She did not even look as if she intended to.