Chapter 5 - SANCTUARY IN THE LIBRARY
Inside the sprawling mahogany-paneled library, the fire crackled warmly in the grand stone hearth. Lily was sitting cross-legged on the plush Persian rug, happily coloring in a sketch pad with a box of brand-new crayons that Mr. Patel had hurriedly provided. Bun the stuffed rabbit sat propped up against a leather footstool, watching over her.
Rosa sat on the edge of a Chesterfield sofa, her hands twisted nervously in her lap. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic and confusion. What was happening out in the hallway? Why did Mr. Harmon look at Lily like that? Are we homeless?
The heavy oak door clicked open, and Ethan walked in.
Rosa immediately stood up, bowing her head instinctively. “Mr. Harmon, I am so, so sorry. Please don't take it out on Lily. I’ll pack our things right now. We’ll leave the estate immediately.”
Ethan stopped a few feet away. He looked at Rosa—really looked at her—not as an employee, not as a fixture of the mansion, but for the first time, seeing the resemblance that had been hiding in plain sight for years. The dark hair, the sharp contour of the cheekbones, the quiet resilience in the eyes.
“Rosa,” Ethan said softly, holding up his hand to halt her. “Sit down. Please.”
Rosa blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She slowly lowered herself back onto the edge of the sofa. “Mr. Harmon... what’s going on? Where is Miss Voss?”
“Miss Voss has left the building,” Ethan replied evenly, walking over to his desk and picking up the manila folder. He didn't sit behind the desk; instead, he pulled up an armchair directly across from Rosa, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “Rosa, I need you to answer some questions for me. And I need you to be completely honest.”
Rosa swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Y-yes, sir.”
“Your mother,” Ethan began, his voice softening. “Clara Vance. She worked for my mother over twenty years ago. Why did she leave Greenwich so suddenly?”
Rosa’s breath hitched. A shadow of painful memory crossed her face. Her eyes welled with sudden tears. “She... she said powerful people were dangerous. After your mother passed, someone broke into our apartment. They stole all of her documents, her savings, everything. My mother was terrified for our lives. She changed our last name to Morales to hide us. She died when I was nineteen, never daring to look back, never daring to claim what belonged to her.”
Ethan closed his eyes for a second, a muscle twitching in his jaw as wave after wave of realization hit him. The theft, the forged documents, the systematic destruction of innocent lives by Natalie and her associates—it all fit together like pieces of a dark, twisted puzzle.
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“She didn't have to hide anymore,” Ethan whispered, looking directly into Rosa’s eyes. “And neither do you.”
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