Chapter 5: Rumors in the Walls
Rumors did not travel loudly inside the Blackwood mansion.
They traveled in whispers.
They slipped between polished hallways and beneath heavy doors. They hid behind folded linens and lingered in the kitchen long after dinner trays were cleared.
And lately, every whisper carried the same subject.
Mr. Blackwood.
And the new servant.
"Did you hear?" Tessa murmured as she dried silverware beside Maya. "He said thank you."
Maya kept her eyes on the plates she was stacking. "He was being polite."
"He's never polite."
Maya smiled faintly. "Everyone can be."
Tessa shook her head. "You don't understand. People don't survive here by hoping he has a heart."
Maya paused.
Broken people are not monsters. They're hurting.
She had said those words days ago without fully knowing how true they would become.
Upstairs, Ethan adjusted his cufflinks in front of the mirror.
The bandage was gone. The cut had healed.
But something else lingered.
The word thank you had left his mouth too easily.
He disliked that.
He disliked the subtle shift in the atmosphere since the glass shattered.
Staff no longer looked quite as terrified.
Still cautious. Still distant.
But less… paralyzed.
That loss of absolute fear unsettled him.
Control depended on it.
He descended the staircase.
Maya stood near the foyer with a tray of fresh coffee prepared for his departure.
She handed it to him without a word.
He took it.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
A second.
Nothing more.
Yet it felt louder than thunder.
He pulled his hand back almost immediately.
"You'll accompany Mrs. Alden to headquarters today," he said abruptly.
Maya blinked. "Sir?"
"The corporate office requires additional assistance with event preparation. You'll help."
"Yes, sir."
He turned and walked out.
He told himself it was a practical decision.
Nothing more.
The headquarters of Blackwood Holdings rose high above the city skyline—steel, glass, and intimidation.
Maya stepped inside behind Mrs. Alden, her eyes widening slightly at the scale of it.
The air inside felt different from the mansion.
Sharper.
More restless.
Employees moved quickly, heels clicking against marble floors. Assistants whispered into headsets. Tension lived in the walls.
"He's in a mood," one receptionist whispered as they passed.
"When isn't he?" another replied.
Maya pretended not to hear.
But she felt it.
The building vibrated with pressure.
On the executive floor, Ethan stood inside the boardroom, facing three senior members.
"We cannot continue absorbing aggressive acquisitions without restructuring debt," one said.
"Then restructure it," Ethan replied flatly.
"It's not that simple."
"It is if you act decisively."
Another board member leaned forward. "There are external perceptions forming, Ethan."
"Perceptions?"
"Yes. That you're… unstable under pressure."
The word again.
Unstable.
He stared at them.
"Profits are up," he said coldly.
"So are risks."
Silence stretched.
The door opened quietly as staff began setting up refreshments for the afternoon strategy briefing.
Maya entered carrying a tray.
Ethan noticed immediately.
His gaze flickered.
She moved efficiently, placing water glasses and notepads without disrupting conversation.
One board member's eyes lingered on her curiously.
"That's new," he muttered.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"She's staff."
The tone left no room for further comment.
But something inside him shifted—sharp and protective.
He didn't analyze it.
He ignored it.
During the briefing, tension escalated.
Charts flashed on the screen.
Projected losses were debated.
Voices rose.
At one point, a senior executive slammed his hand on the table.
"This pace is reckless!"
The word echoed.
Reckless.
Ethan stood slowly.
"If you doubt my leadership, submit your resignation."
"You don't listen to anyone!" the executive shot back.
Silence fell like a dropped curtain.
Maya stood near the wall, heart steady but observant.
She saw something no one else seemed to notice.
Ethan wasn't angry the way he had been in the mansion.
He was cornered.
Cornered people lash out.
But sometimes they're just afraid of being exposed.
"Meeting adjourned," Ethan said sharply.
Chairs scraped loudly as executives exited.
The man who had spoken harshly lingered.
"You can't keep pushing everyone away," he said quietly.
Ethan's voice dropped to ice. "I don't need everyone."
The man shook his head and left.
Maya remained to clear the glasses.
The boardroom was suddenly too large.
Too silent.
Ethan stood staring at the city through the floor-to-ceiling window.
"They think I'm insane," he said without turning.
Maya hesitated.
He hadn't addressed her directly—but there was no one else in the room.
"I don't think so," she said softly.
He glanced over his shoulder.
"I didn't ask what you think."
"No, sir."
"Then why answer?"
"Because you sounded like you wanted one."
The words hung carefully in the air.
He faced her fully now.
"And what exactly do you think?"
She placed the last glass on the tray before meeting his eyes.
"I think you don't like losing control."
His gaze sharpened.
"That's obvious."
"But control isn't the same as stability," she added gently.
A flicker of irritation crossed his face.
"You're overstepping."
"I apologize."
Yet she didn't retract the statement.
He walked toward her slowly.
"You assume a lot for someone who scrubs floors."
Her expression didn't change.
"Sometimes floors reflect things clearly, sir."
The boldness of that answer caught him off guard.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he turned away abruptly.
"Return to the mansion."
"Yes, sir."
On the ride back, rumors were already spreading through headquarters.
"She talks to him without shaking."
"He hasn't fired her."
"Maybe she's different."
"Or maybe she'll be gone by next week."
Maya ignored it.
But the words reached Ethan's ears too.
Different.
The word unsettled him more than unstable ever had.
That evening, tension followed him home.
Dinner was quiet.
The staff careful.
Maya placed his plate before him.
He noticed her movements were steady, unhurried.
"How long do you think you'll last here?" he asked suddenly.
She looked up slightly. "As long as I'm needed."
"That's not what I asked."
She considered.
"As long as I can do my work well."
"And if I decide you can't?"
She held his gaze calmly.
"Then I'll accept it."
No desperation.
No pleading.
It irritated him.
"Most people try to defend themselves."
"I don't control your decisions, sir."
"Exactly."
He leaned back in his chair.
"You're either foolish or fearless."
"Neither."
"Then what?"
"Faithful."
The answer caught him off guard.
"To what?" he demanded.
"To doing my best."
He studied her face carefully.
There was no manipulation.
No hidden agenda.
Just conviction.
It unsettled him deeply.
Later that night, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance again—though no rain fell.
Ethan stood in his study, staring at the portrait of his parents.
Rumors.
Unstable.
Reckless.
Different.
The words collided in his mind.
He remembered his father's voice once saying, Strength without wisdom is destruction.
He had dismissed that sentiment years ago.
Kindness had gotten his parents killed.
At least, that was what he had convinced himself.
A knock came at his door.
"Yes?"
"It's Maya, sir."
"What is it?"
"You skipped dessert."
"I don't want it."
A pause.
"It's your mother's recipe," she added softly.
He froze.
"How do you know that?"
"It's in Mrs. Alden's notes. She said your mother used to bake it during board meetings."
His throat tightened unexpectedly.
"That's irrelevant."
"Yes, sir."
Silence.
"Leave it."
She set the small plate just inside the door and walked away.
He stared at it for several seconds.
Finally, he stepped forward and picked it up.
One bite.
The flavor struck harder than he anticipated.
Memory flooded.
Warm kitchen lights.
Laughter.
A voice calling him "Ethan, not Mr. Blackwood."
He set the plate down abruptly.
He hated nostalgia.
Hated vulnerability.
Yet he couldn't deny something simple:
The house no longer felt entirely cold.
And that terrified him more than shattered glass ever had.
Downstairs, Maya folded laundry in the quiet staff quarters.
Tessa leaned against the doorway.
"You're changing him," she whispered.
Maya shook her head gently. "No."
"Yes, you are."
Maya thought carefully before answering.
"I'm not changing him," she said softly. "I'm just not running from him."
Upstairs, Ethan stood alone in the dim light of his study.
For years, fear had been his shield.
But shields isolate.
And isolation breeds echo.
Now there was a new sound in the walls.
Not loud.
Not rebellious.
But steady.
Kindness.
He wasn't sure if it was a threat.
Or a lifeline.
And that uncertainty disturbed him deeply.
The rumors in the mansion grew louder.
The boardroom doubts sharpened.
Control felt thinner than before.
Yet for the first time in years—
He didn't feel entirely alone inside the fortress.
And that was both the most dangerous—
And the most hopeful—
Thing of all.