Lydia's POV
The morning started like any other, except it didn't feel like any other morning at all.
I woke up with Karl's last text message still glowing in my mind like a brand. You aren't alone. Three simple words that had kept me awake half the night, my heart doing dangerous things in my chest every time I replayed them.
I had crossed a line. We both had. And the terrifying part wasn't the crossing itself, it was how much I wanted to keep going.
"Mummy, you're smiling," Zoey said from her bed, her voice still thick with sleep.
I turned to find her watching me, her eyes bright and curious in a way that made my chest ache. She looked better today. The new medication regimen was working, or maybe it was just one of those merciful mornings where her body decided to give her a break.
"Am I?" I asked, moving to sit beside her. I pressed my hand to her forehead, checking for fever out of habit. Cool. Thank God.
"You are," she insisted, grinning. "You look pretty when you smile like that."
"Like what, baby?"
"Like you're thinking about something nice." She tilted her head, studying me with the unsettling wisdom of children who had seen too much pain. "Are you happy, Mummy?"
The question hit me like a fist to the sternum. Was I happy? I was terrified. I was exhausted. I was drowning in bills and fear and the constant, gnawing terror that I would lose her. But underneath all of that, buried beneath layers of survival instinct, was something warm and fragile and dangerously close to hope.
"I'm happy when I'm with you," I said, kissing her forehead. It was the truth, even if it wasn't the whole truth.
"But are you happy with you?" she pressed, her small hand finding mine.
I swallowed hard. Six years old, and she could see straight through me. "I'm working on it, sweetheart."
She seemed satisfied with that answer, snuggling back into her pillow. "Good. You deserve to be happy, Mummy. You're the best."
I stayed with her until she drifted back to sleep, my heart too full and too broken all at once. She deserved a mother who wasn't falling apart. She deserved a mother who had her life together. Instead, she had me, a woman who was one bad day away from losing everything, including her heart to a man she had no business wanting.
By the time I arrived at the Whitmore estate, the usual morning calm felt different. The air was charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm when everything goes unnaturally still.
Mrs. Hale was waiting for me in the foyer, her expression even more pinched than usual. "Miss Lydia, Mr. Karl would like to see you in his study before you attend to Mrs. Whitmore."
My stomach dropped. "Is everything alright? Is his mother…"
"Mrs. Whitmore is stable," she interrupted, her tone clipped. "This is about something else. Don't keep him waiting."
I climbed the stairs with my heart hammering against my ribs. The last time I'd been in Karl's study, he'd increased my pay and looked at me like I was something precious. The memory of his thumb grazing my jaw still made my skin tingle.
I knocked softly on the heavy oak door.
"Come in."
Karl was standing by the window, his back to me, his shoulders rigid with tension. He was dressed impeccably as always, a charcoal suit that fit him like it had been sewn directly onto his body, but there was something different about his posture. He looked like a man bracing for impact.
"You wanted to see me?" I asked, closing the door behind me.
He turned, and the look in his eyes made my breath catch. There was heat there, the same heat that had been building between us for weeks, but there was also something darker. Worry. Fear, even.
"My brother is coming home," he said without preamble.
I blinked. "I didn't know you had a brother."
"Nathan." Karl's jaw tightened when he said the name, like it physically hurt him. "He's been abroad for the past three years. London, mostly. He wasn't supposed to return until next month, but he called this morning. He's arriving today."
"That's… good?" I ventured, unsure why this news felt like a storm warning.
Karl let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his dark hair. It was the first time I'd seen him look truly unsettled. "Nathan and I aren't close, Lydia. We haven't been for a long time. Our father made sure of that."
I took a step closer, drawn by the pain in his voice. "What happened?"
"He pitted us against each other our entire lives," Karl said, his voice low and bitter. "Everything was a competition. Who was smarter, who was stronger, who was more ruthless. Nathan responded by becoming everything our father wanted, charming, manipulative, willing to destroy anyone who got in his way. I responded by shutting down completely."
"And now he's coming back," I said softly.
"Now he's coming back," Karl repeated. He closed the distance between us in two long strides, his hands coming up to frame my face. The touch was gentle, reverent, and completely at odds with the tension radiating from his body. "I need you to be careful around him, Lydia."
"Careful how?"
"Nathan is…" He paused, searching for the right words. "He's dangerous. Not in an obvious way. He doesn't rage or threaten. He studies people, finds their weaknesses, and exploits them with surgical precision. And he's very good at making people think he's on their side."
"Why are you telling me this?" I whispered, even though I already knew the answer.
Karl's thumb traced the line of my cheekbone, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. "Because you matter to me, Lydia. More than you should. More than is safe for either of us. And Nathan will see that the moment he walks through the door. He'll see it, and he'll use it."
"Karl…"
"I know this is complicated," he interrupted, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. "I know I'm your employer. I know you need this job. I know there are a thousand reasons why this…" He gestured between us, the movement helpless and frustrated. "…why this can't happen. But I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop wanting to make your life easier, to take away every burden you're carrying, to…"
The sound of a car door slamming outside shattered the moment.
Karl jerked back, his expression shifting from vulnerable to guarded in a heartbeat. He moved to the window, his entire body going rigid. "He's here."
I joined him at the window, peering down at the circular driveway. A sleek black car sat purring at the entrance, and a man was stepping out of the back seat. Even from this distance, I could see the resemblance to Karl, the same height, the same broad shoulders, but where Karl moved with careful control, this man moved with the lazy confidence of a predator who knew he was at the top of the food chain.
Nathan Whitmore looked up at the house, and for a split second, his eyes seemed to find the exact window where Karl and I were standing. A slow smile spread across his face.
"He knows we're watching," Karl murmured, his voice tight.
"Maybe he's just happy to be home," I offered weakly.
Karl's laugh was cold and utterly without humor. "Nathan is never just happy, Lydia. He's always calculating. Always three moves ahead." He turned to me, his hand finding mine and squeezing once, hard. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," I whispered.
But as I watched Nathan Whitmore stride toward the front door with that dangerous smile still playing on his lips, I had the sinking feeling that careful wouldn't be enough.
Not even close.
KARL'S POV
I felt Nathan's presence in the house like a disturbance in the atmosphere, a shift in air pressure that made my teeth clench and my hands curl into fists.
Three years. Three blessed years of peace, of building something that felt like my own life rather than the one our father had scripted for us. Three years of slowly learning that not every human interaction had to be a battle for dominance.
And now he was back.
I found him in the living room, standing by the fireplace with a glass of what I assumed was my most expensive scotch in his hand. He'd always had a talent for making himself at home, for taking up space like it was his birthright.
"Brother," he said, turning to face me with that same smile I'd seen from the window. It didn't reach his eyes. Nathan's smiles never did. "You look well. Surprisingly well, actually. I expected you to be more… worn down by now."
"Nathan." I didn't move from the doorway. Every instinct I had was screaming at me to maintain distance, to not let him see anything that could be used against me. "You're early."
"Am I?" He took a slow sip of scotch, his pale blue eyes, our father's eyes, studying me with unnerving focus. "Or perhaps I'm right on time. I heard Mother's health has declined significantly."
"She's stable."
"For now," he said softly. "But we both know stable doesn't mean recovered. How long does she have, Karl? Weeks? Months?"
The casual way he discussed our mother's mortality made my jaw clench. "The doctors aren't sure."
"Hmm." Nathan moved toward the window, his movements fluid and unhurried. "And you've been here playing the dutiful son. How noble of you. Father would be proud."
"Don't." The word came out sharper than I intended.
Nathan's smile widened, and I knew I'd given him exactly what he wanted, a reaction. "Still sensitive about the old man, I see. You'd think after two years in the ground, you'd have made your peace with him."
"There's no peace to be made with a man who spent his entire life destroying everything he touched," I said, forcing my voice back to neutral.
"Destroyed? Or refined?" Nathan turned back to me, his expression thoughtful. "Father taught us to be strong, Karl. To take what we want without apology. You've spent so much energy fighting against those lessons that you've forgotten how to actually live."
"I've forgotten how to be a monster, you mean."
"Semantics." He waved a dismissive hand. "Speaking of living, I heard you've made some… interesting personnel changes. A new caregiver for Mother?"
Every muscle in my body went taut. "What about her?"
"Nothing," Nathan said, but his eyes gleamed with something predatory. "I'm simply curious. Mrs. Hale mentioned her in passing. Said she's been quite dedicated. Lydia, isn't it?"
Hearing her name in his mouth felt like a violation. "She's an excellent caregiver. Mother has responded well to her."
"I'm sure she has." Nathan's gaze was too knowing, too sharp. "I look forward to meeting her. Any friend of Mother's is someone I should know."
"She's not a friend. She's an employee."
"Of course," Nathan agreed, but his tone suggested he didn't believe me for a second. "Still, three years is a long time to be away. I've missed so much. I'm eager to catch up on everything that's been happening in this house."
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Nathan had always been a master at wrapping daggers in silk.
"How long are you planning to stay?" I asked.
"As long as necessary," he replied. "Family is important, after all. And I'd hate for Mother to…" He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "Well. I'd hate to miss anything important."
Before I could respond, a soft knock interrupted us. Mrs. Hale appeared in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral. "Excuse me, Mr. Karl. Miss Lydia has finished with Mrs. Whitmore for the morning. She's asking if there's anything else you need before she…"
"I'd love to meet her," Nathan cut in smoothly, setting down his glass. "If she's still here, that is. I should introduce myself properly."
I wanted to refuse. I wanted to send Lydia home immediately, to keep her as far from Nathan as possible. But refusing would only confirm what he already suspected, that she mattered to me.
"Of course," I heard myself say. "Mrs. Hale, would you ask Miss Lydia to join us?"
As Mrs. Hale disappeared, Nathan's smile sharpened into something almost feral.
"This should be interesting," he murmured.
I said nothing. I couldn't. Because he was right.
And I had no idea how to protect Lydia from what was coming.