ra''s face was pale, her hand gripping the edge of the bed so hard it looked like she might snap the wood in two.
When Dn made his way up from downstairs, it was already close to eleven. The ns for the birthday banquet were finally settled. Thinking of ra waiting for him in his room, he couldn''t help but smile a little as he pushed open the door to his suite.
He hadn''t stayed overnight at the old house in ages, and honestly, he never liked it much. Too many memories he''d rather leave buried.
He wheeled himself inside, rounded the corner-and stopped. The bed was empty.
His brows furrowed. Maybe she was just restless, wandering around. She was young, after all.
He called for the butler, his voice calm but clipped. "Where is she?"
The butler looked just as confused-he''d only juste up himself. Quickly, he went to ask the maid.
The maid didn''t seem the least bit flustered. "No one told me there were special arrangements, so I put her in thest room at the end of the hall."
Dn''s eyes went cold. That''s the storage room.
He fixed the maid with a re that could cut ss.
She went white as a sheet, dropping to her knees without a word.
The butler was at a loss. Even if ra was just a guest, sticking her in the storage
room was way out of line. Was this maid trying to make trouble?
He rushed to smooth things over. "Young Master, let''s check on her first."
But Dn''s eyes never left the maid.
She shivered under the weight of his silence, head bowed, unable to get a word out.
After a long, tense moment, Dn finally said, voice like ice, "Pack your things. You''re done here."
There was no mistaking it—she was being kicked out of the Ferguson house.
The maid stared at him in shock. She''d been with the Fergusons for nearly thirty years, knew everyone, had always felt like part of the family. This couldn''t be happening.
"Young Master, I watched you grow up!" she pleaded. How could he throw her out over a girl who barely belonged here?
Dn didn''t answer. He just turned his wheelchair and headed for the end of the hall.
Still fuming, the maid scrambled to find Mrs. Ferguson.
Sinceing back, Mrs. Ferguson spent nearly all her time praying in the ancestral hall, only leaving for meals.
"Mrs. Ferguson," the maid sobbed, "please, you have to help me! Young Master wants to throw me out because of ra. I''ve worked here thirty years. Even if I haven''t done great things, I''ve given everything!"
Mrs. Ferguson was kneeling on a cushion, hands folded in prayer. At the maid''s words, her brow tightened. With help, she rose and stepped outside, where the maid was kneeling in the hall, tears streaming down her face.
"Just because ra didn''t like the room, Young Master wants me gone. Mrs. Ferguson, forgive me, but he cares too much for her. How will people respect him in the future?"
Mrs. Ferguson''s face stayed cold. She gave a short, sharpugh. "Dn is head of this family. What he says goes. You''re a servant—a housekeeper. What makes you think ra won''t be respected here?"
The words hit hard. After so many years, everyone had treated her kindly. She''d forgotten her ce, started to think of herself as family.
Mrs. Ferguson took a slow breath. "If he says you must go, then go. Dn might be blinded by ra, but he hasn''t let me down in anything else."
"Mrs. Ferguson! I was wrong, I really was! I only put ra in the storage room because I was thinking of Ms. Warren. She''s looked after you all these years—even when you were away in New York, she always reminded us to care for the tree you nted. That''s why it''s grown so well. I always thought she''d be thedy of the house. Now some new girl shows up out of nowhere..."
Mrs. Ferguson paused, moved despite herself. She''d noticed the tree she''d
nted years ago was thriving-so Tara had cared for it all this time.
People have feelings, after all.
She sighed, looking down at the sobbing maid. "I''ll talk to him for you. But don''t let this happen again."
"Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson! Thank you!"