Exposed

Though at first she had no idea where to go, Amy has found her bearings quickly. The sepulchral silence of the mansion paired with its smooth, vacant décor means the sharp as the clink of china can travel a long distance without dying. That has been her lighthouse, guiding her through the labyrinthine hallways of the Gilded Castle.

She crosses the lobby onto the other side, noting the difference in atmosphere. The west wing is elegant and homely, soft carpet replacing hard marble and a touch of velvet bleeding into the walls at intervals. Doors crop up more, the short and small tightly closed, while the tall and ornate left ajar, allowing subtle peeks inside. Amy stops before one, only to leave shortly after. It’s a large ball room, fully decorated, too unsettling to admire without the assorted crowd.

The clinking leads her before a door sitting alone, almost kept away from view. Is Mia inside? She hasn’t seen anyone in the mansion with them save for Ellie, but its size would definitely allow for entire families to live together without once meeting. She tries the knob and the door budges with difficulty. It hasn’t seen use in a while, nor any attention. Amy enters, climbing the narrow stairs and trying her hardest not to catch cobwebs or dust bunnies. There’s a light at the top and the promise of people coming through in onomatopoeia.

With the last step behind her, she finds herself in a gallery, complete with curtains and a railing with a padded edge. Curious, she nears and pokes her head over it only to yelp and drop below it. She can feel searching gazes graze the top of her bonnet and only when they stop and the sipping resumes, does she poke her head again, this time with more caution.

It’s a scene from Victorian times. In the middle of the salon, Sean and Mia sit at opposite ends of a broad table. He’s wearing a light blue shirt, two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, projecting his usual debonair allure across the meagre brunch. Behind him sits a girl of Asian descent that Amy can’t identify. She sits just like Ellie, behind her protagonist, and carries herself with the distinguished restraint and manners of a servant. At least on the surface.

She peers at Ellie and gives her a wink. The little girl’s grow fidgety behind her back, calmed only when Mia calls her nearer. Ellie leans in, listens to Mia’s commands, then returns to her post with a stalwart posture. Amy can only guess what she was told; she can’t see her hosts’ faces.

Slowly, the refreshments dwindle and the hors d’oeuvres disappear. Apart from the din of cutlery and subtle sounds of enjoyment, time passes on quietly. Is this how rich people eat? In pristine silence, with no conversation or outward emotion to speak of. It would take a miracle to break this monotony.

With no warning, a thud reverberates through the room. Sean snaps at his servant to find her lips curved in a serene smile and her eyes teasing with innocence. He replies with a growl in her chest, before returning to Mia, running his hand through his hair and clearing his throat of menace.

“It’s unlike you to be so quiet.”

“It’s hard to talk when you have nothing to say.”

Amy hides a smirk. The sass in Mia’s voice is unmistakable and the effect it has on Sean is delicious. His armour chips ever so slightly, but he’s not used to it not being intact.

“Then allow me to say you look lovely.”

“I know.”

“Have you done something to your hair?”

“Nothing I don’t do every day.”

“How have you been?”

“Marvellous.”

Sean’s cheeks twitch in displeasure. He scoffs, then snickers, scratching at his ear, “Had I known you’d be so prickly, I wouldn’t have bothered coming. Hosting doesn’t become you.”

Ellie’s fist tightens, releasing when Mia waves to her under the table. Just enjoy the show.

Mia rests an elbow on the table, twirling a lock of hair, “I’m used to guests showing up without unrequited feelings.”

His maid bites away a smile.

“Please,” he says, prolonging the word until it grows from condescending to compensating. “Not a day goes by without someone confessing their inexorable attraction to me.”

“Sounds like an accursed existence.”

“It is.”

“I meant for them.”

“So did I. Falling for someone who’s bound to reject them. People love the impossible.”

Mia pauses and tilts her head with the bemused admiration one mocks a clown with. Amy finds the whole exchange uncanny. The way Mia revels in the holds he has on the hopelessly smitten boy makes her wish she’ll never be at the receiving end of her scorn. Though what fascinates her more is how composed she is. This is her element; she flows through the exchange like a gold knife through caviar.

“What business have you here, Sean?” Mia says. Hearing his name makes his face grow red and excited.

“Your father requested me. We have matters to discuss.”

Mia pauses. Twirling, talking, breathing. The revelation petrifies her for a moment Amy can spot, but Sean is too blind or conceited to notice. He misses the slight squeak in her voice too.

“Interesting. Suffice to say I was not made aware – of your matters,” she adds, keeping the balance of power in check. Not good enough, though. A maleficent glimmer crosses Sean’s eyes.

“Really? Now, why is that?”

“Hazarding a guess, I’d say it’s none of my concern.”

“A fair, yet misguided assumption.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

Mia plays a game she knows she’ll win – if time played on her side. She keeps stealing glances at the clock and Ellie, joined by Sean’s servant, move towards the salon’s spruce doors, ready to open them at any moment.

“That – might be an issue,” Sean muses, smirking behind his palm.

“How so?” Mia jabs.

“I was sworn to privacy. Your father knows to protect his assets.”

“What a dignified stance you take.”

“But,” Sean stretches over the table, a predator ready to pounce, “I come from a long line of dealmakers.”

“State your terms, Murphy.”

A breakthrough. Sean grins, “I believe it’s been quite a while since you’ve last seen my manor. Grand loss, we’ve refurbished the hot springs. Added a nice surprise.”

Mia sighs, “What surprise?”

“You’ll find out when you drop by.”

Mia checks the time again, her posture changing altogether. From a cunning seductress she becomes a demure presence, small and jumpy. She taps a nervous rhythm on the table, counting to ten. But unlike her appearance, her voice doesn’t change.

“It has been ages since I last swam. I shall buy a new bathing suit.”

“And I will love to see it.”

“As will I.”

As much as Amy wants to savour the sound of chattering teeth, the new voice enters the room with a commanding thunder that takes her joy away. Edward Astella. Were it not for the grey in his hair and the grim set of his smile, he and Mia would be indistinguishable. He slots in behind his daughter, dropping his arms on her shoulder. Mia winces ever so slightly, then melts under his touch.

“Awww, why did you stop?” he whines like a brat. “Go on, then. Reasons? What about her bathing suit will you love to see?”

“I-I… you see, sir…”

Mr Astella giggles, then rounds the table towards Sean. If he couldn’t find words before, he certainly can’t now.

“What did I say about calling me sir?”

“T-too formal?”

“And antiquated. Edward, please. Shave a decade off my age, I beg you!”

Edward offers Sean his hand. He goes to shake it, only to end up being lifted off his chair.

“My apologies for making you wait. Had I known the sky would be filled with commoners, I wouldn’t have bought a private aeroplane. Are you cold, son? You’re trembling like a chihuahua.”

The question rejuvenates Sean at once. He flashes a confident smile. “A tad excited for our talk, Edward.”

“That’s what I want to hear.” Mr Astella turns to his daughter, “I trust Mia has kept you lovely company, hasn’t she?”

“We had a very pleasant chat,” Mia replies. “Glad to have you back, father.”

“Aww, you’re making me blush!” He nudges Sean and drops his voice to a whisper, “She’s just glad all the servants returned. Speaking of, Ellie?”

“Sir?”

“Be a doll and turn off the AC. I’m not a corpse yet, I don’t need cold storage. Oh, and I believe the cameras have been turned off.” His eyes narrow to perilous slits. “Do you know anything about that?”

“No, sir. I’ll investigate it.”

Ellie leaves the room through a backdoor, sending a final concerned gaze Mia’s way. She was lying, Amy’s sure about it. What she doesn’t know is why.

“Shall we?” Edward asks Sean.”

“Lead the way.”

“I always do. Might want to –“

Sean cringes, “Yes! My mistake, apologies. Hana?”

“Yes?” his servant answers, waiting for orders that delays to come. She watches Sean struggle to make words as he’s escorted out of the salon.

“Find… ummm…”

“The head butler,” Mr Astella helps.

“Yes and ask him umm... what you can do?”

“Understood,” Hana curtsies. “Summon me when you’re finished, master.”

Sean grimaces, cheeks flush with unease. That’s the last Amy sees of him, before Hana shuts the spruce doors behind the two business ‘men’, coughs out a chuckle, then disappears as well, following Ellie’s exit.

Left alone in the room, Mia dabs her forehead with a napkin, then exhales all her weariness. For a moment, Amy wants to clap, praise her performance and the visible effort she put in it, but she can’t. A shiver crosses Mia, her calm breaking with a crescendo of hyperventilating. She paces across the room, unsure which way to exit, until a buzz forces her to stop.

She pulls out her phone and almost drops it. Bad news, terrible news. Mia looks just like she did in the Advisors Hall only ten times worse. Her whimpers reach all the way to Amy, making her clutch the railing and want to jump down and comfort her. Only there’s no time for that. She rushes out, mumbling a single word.

“Amy!”

That’s when it all clicks in Amy’s mind. The cameras, the emptiness, he got suspicious. She was never meant to be here. But now that she was, no one had to find out. Trembling, Amy goes back, out of the gallery, down the stairs, only to freeze before the door. Footsteps and chatter come from outside, servants grumbling, noise muffled by her throbbing ears. Hearing silence again, she takes a deep breath and opens the door, keeping low to the ground and close to the walls, praying to hear another clink to guide her footsteps.