Mara spent the rest of the morning trying to shake off the heaviness left by the threatening note, but the words clung to her mind like smoke.
You don't belong here. Leave before you're forced to.
Whoever wrote that had not only entered the Frost mansion without detection… they had gotten close enough to her bedroom door. Close enough while she slept.
The thought made her skin crawl.
After Damian disappeared into his office for the urgent call, Mara wandered through the quiet mansion, searching for someplace to breathe. The anxiety twisting her chest needed space—air—something other than the suffocating reminder that she was suddenly a target.
Eventually, her steps led her to the glass door that opened onto the mansion's private garden.
A place she hadn't explored yet.
She pushed the door open, and a cool breeze brushed against her face. The stone path curved between trimmed hedges and tall trees, leading deeper into the garden until the mansion was barely visible behind her.
The scent of roses grew stronger as she followed the path.
But then she stopped.
Not because of the flowers.
But because someone was already there.
A lone figure stood by the old stone fountain—a woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in a muted gray sweater and a long skirt that brushed the grass. Her hair, streaked with silver, was tied back neatly. She held a pair of gardening shears in her hand as she admired a row of crimson roses.
Mara recognized her vaguely. She'd seen her in the mansion before, silently working, tending to flowers, and rarely speaking.
The head gardener.
The woman turned, noticing Mara. Her eyes—sharp, deep-set, unreadable—focused on her with surprising intensity.
"You're up early," she said, her voice low and calm.
Mara nodded, stepping closer. "I…needed some air."
The gardener looked at her for a moment longer before returning her attention to the roses. "This garden usually has that effect. It's been the place for quiet thoughts in this household for many years."
Mara approached the nearest flower, brushing her fingers lightly over a velvety petal. "You take care of all this by yourself?"
"For the most part," the gardener replied. "These roses have been here longer than Damian has been alive. His mother planted them."
Mara blinked. "His mother?"
The woman nodded. "She said roses survive best when they're loved, but they bloom brightest when they're protected."
Mara absorbed the words slowly.
Loved.
Protected.
Two words that felt heavier today than ever.
The gardener clipped a stray branch. "I've noticed the household moving differently this morning. Guards pacing. Staff whispering. Something must have happened."
Mara hesitated. She wasn't sure how much she could say—or should say—but the woman's calm presence felt strangely grounding.
"There was a threat," Mara admitted quietly.
The gardener froze mid-motion, the shears suspended in the air for a heartbeat before she resumed trimming.
"I see," she murmured. "Toward you?"
Mara nodded.
The woman didn't react with surprise. Nor fear. Her expression barely shifted, but something dark flickered in her eyes—something that disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
"Then you need to be careful," the gardener said simply. "Not everyone who walks in this mansion wishes you well."
Mara felt a chill creep down her spine. "Do you…know something?"
The gardener raised her head, meeting Mara's eyes with unsettling clarity.
"I've worked for the Frost family for thirty years," she said. "I know everything that grows on this land…including the weeds."
Before Mara could ask more, she heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Damian.
He stepped into the garden with a storm in his expression, but his eyes softened when he saw her.
"Mara," he breathed, relief washing over his features. "I've been looking for you."
The gardener bowed her head politely then quietly excused herself, disappearing behind the hedges with her shears.
Mara watched her leave before turning to Damian. "What happened? You look…disturbed."
Damian exhaled, pushing a hand through his hair. "The call I took—it wasn't about business."
Her heartbeat quickened. "Then what was it?"
Damian stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Someone tried accessing the restricted security system last night."
Mara blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It means someone inside the mansion—someone with clearance—was attempting to disable certain cameras."
Her stomach dropped. "Inside?"
"Yes."
His jaw tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface.
"The attempt wasn't completely successful, but they managed to shut down three cameras for several minutes. The same three that cover the hallway leading to your room."
Mara's blood ran cold.
"So you think…someone here…someone working in this mansion…is trying to scare me?"
Damian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rested a hand against her arm, warm and steady.
"I think someone wants you gone," he said softly. "And I think they're willing to cross lines to make it happen."
Mara swallowed hard. "Did you tell the staff?"
"No." His voice was firm. "Until I know who's involved, I trust no one."
Mara looked up at him, fear tightening in her chest. "Not even your employees? People who have been here for years?"
Damian shook his head. "Loyalty is easy to fake when no one is watching."
Her thoughts drifted to the gardener's strange warning.
Not everyone who walks in this mansion wishes you well.
Before she could share it, Damian gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his voice low.
"Come inside. I don't want you out here alone."
She nodded, but as she followed him back toward the mansion, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was in the garden.
Watching her.
Waiting.
And whoever it was…was getting closer.
---
End of Chapter 18