Series: My employer, Marcus Hollins, stood over his seven-year-old son in the glass conservatory, yelling as the boy smashed $14,000 worth of antique porcelain against the marble floor.

Part 1 The child was sobbing uncontrollably, his voice layered with an unnatural, echoing resonance while cold phantom frost blossomed across the humid windowpanes. When [more…]

The memory of Jonah’s small, bleeding fingers lingered. Marcus’s face, a mask of cold fury, still burned in my mind. He’d slammed the conservatory doors [more…]

I crept back to my room, heart thundering, the scent of the warding herbs clinging to my clothes. Sleep never came. I spent the rest [more…]

The threat hung in the air like a pall. Marcus’s words had the weight of iron. I retreated to my staff quarters, a prisoner in [more…]

The next evening, Savannah Manor buzzed with a manufactured cheer. Marcus was hosting a formal dinner, a display of his wealth and influence. Four prominent [more…]

My defiance at the dinner table had consequences. Immediate ones. Marcus didn’t raise his voice in front of his guests, but his eyes promised retribution. [more…]

The hours that followed Marcus’s departure were agonizing. I was confined, officially, to the staff wing, though the guards he’d posted around the house were [more…]

The revelation about the ancestral relic solidified everything. It wasn’t just a legal battle; it was a spiritual one, a fight for our very bloodline. [more…]

The air in Savannah Manor had grown heavy, thick with unspoken tension. Dr. Carter’s visit, and the subtle, knowing glance she’d given me, had ignited [more…]

The manor was an icebox, plunged into a spectral winter. The air shimmered with frozen particles, and every breath was a visible cloud. Marcus, trapped [more…]