Bernice pressed her ear against the thick, solid door, her breath shallow as if she could somehow hear freedom on the other side. The wood was expensive—she could tell from the weight of it, the way it swallowed sound.
She had already tried every other exit in the house. Doors. Windows. Even the balcony doors that looked promising until she realized they were secured with something far more sophisticated than a simple lock.
She could open the window in her room, but only just enough to let air in. The moment she tested it wider, just experimentally, it had taken less than a minute for him to appear.
With that same infuriating calm.
"Miss Watson, I'm sorry. You're forbidden to leave."
He never raised his voice. Never frowned. Never looked irritated. If anything, he looked… apologetic. Which somehow made it worse. Bernice had heard that exact sentence, in that exact measured tone, at least fifteen times in a single day.
