O'DONN

vernous silence of the mansion, registered somewhere in th

p, confronting him. But what was the point? The well-worn sc

d from the kitchen. Pans. Ute

e spreading across my face. I'd imagined him downstairs, making a late-night snack for me. A surprise. A m

rowed in concentration, his movements precise. Never for me. Always for Kamala. "She has a sensitive stomach, Clara. She need

milk and sugar filling the kitchen, my own stomach

ice," I'd said on

ething. I'm a bit busy right now." The staff, of course, were always busy with Kamala'

ng what those late-night sounds meant. My curiosity had lo

nightgown felt cold against my skin. I padded softly down the grand staircase, the silence

was at the marble island, bent over a pristine white plate. He was carefully drizzling a dark ganache ove

nd from him, a sound of contentment. My heart, against my

s quiet, but it shatte

twitched, sending a rogue streak of chocolate across the counter. He

the cake, then back to me, an almost panicked expression on his face. He insti

igerator, pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. The clinking of the

uickly, gesturing vaguely at the cake. "It's... it's

he fire in my soul. Of course not. I thought. Everything good

, my gaze sweeping over the elab

reen lit up. "Kamala Brandt." Her name,

replaced his earlier panic. He picked up the phone. "Kamala? Are you alright? I'm almost

d box, tied it with a satin ribbon, a precise, practice

I asked, my voice almost unnaturally calm. The

omentarily flustered. "Clara, not now. Kam

words a quiet knife. "Seventeen

t a choice. It's an obligation. You know that." He finally looked at me,

devoid of emotion. "She's wa

adable in his gaze. Relief? Confusion? He picked up the box, g