The second knock was softer than the first.
Not the polite tap of someone requesting entry.
But the measured sound of someone confirming presence before obedience.
Elara did not move from where she stood beside the window.
Because the glass had already told her enough.
Because the way the moonlight stopped—
Dull against something beneath its surface—
Was not reflection.
It was reinforcement.
Ouch.
"Miss Roman?"
The voice through the door was careful.
Neutral.
Staff-trained calm.
She turned slowly.
"What now?"
---
The door opened only as far as the internal lock permitted.
A narrow gap.
A line of light.
And Mrs. Calder—the estate's housekeeper—standing just beyond it with her hands folded like this was an ordinary delivery and not—
Containment.
---
"I've brought your evening tray."
"I'm not hungry."
"Yes, ma'am."
The woman did not step inside.
---
Because she was not permitted to.
Because protocol had changed.
Because proximity—
Was no longer advised.
