Chapter 6

Boo.

The words still echo in my mind, from when Madam Vera had looked at me, cold and cruel, and spat her vile judgment. "A woman's place is to be useful. Cleaning, cooking, and knowing her worth. Nothing more. You don't even know how to clean well, do you?"

I try not to dwell on it. I try to push the thought away. But those words, they linger, like poison in my veins.

"Yerenica."

I snap back to reality, blinking rapidly. The familiar voice of Irem slices through my thoughts. She stands in front of me, her arms crossed, waiting for me to regain focus. I quickly glance around, realizing I'm standing in front of her, alongside the other two maids.

I quickly adjust the stiff collar of the uniform, which feels a little too tight for comfort, though it's nothing compared to the horrors of the orphanage. Still, I can't help but wince at how formal it all is. It's clean and neat, but something about it feels...off. Maybe it's just me.

Amani and Emily stand beside me. Both women are in similar uniforms, but there's a grace to them, something natural that I haven't found myself feeling just yet. Amani has her hair tightly pinned back, her eyes focused, while Emily is slightly more relaxed, a soft smile on her lips.

Irem's voice breaks through the silence again, sharp and commanding. "Amani, you will clean the kitchen and the dining room. Emily, the living room and the hall. Yerenica—" She pauses, glancing at me. "You'll clean the library and the third floor. Do not speak to the guards, do you understand?"

Irem's sharp eyes flick to the other two maids. "Konuşma korumalarla." (Don't talk to the guards.)

"Evet, Irem." (Yes, Irem.)

The orders clear, but something about that last instruction leaves a knot in my stomach. Don't speak to the guards. Simple enough, but it makes me feel...well. Like I'm supposed to keep my distance. Not that I would have done otherwise, but still.

"Yerenica?"

I try to distract myself, forcing my mind to move past the words. "Understood," I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. I'm not sure if anyone can hear me, but at least I tried.

Irem switches to Turkish to address the other two maids, her tone calm but assertive. My eyes flicker to them, watching their reactions, even if I don't understand a word she says. There's an edge to the way Irem speaks when she switches to Turkish. I can hear the rhythm of her voice, her smooth transitions between words, but it feels distant, something that doesn't belong to me.

Life here is so different. I never imagined I'd go from being in London streets that smelled of rain to this place, so foreign so far from everything I've known. But, this is my life now.

It's strange, honestly. I've only been here for a short time, but it's already starting to feel like a permanent cage. The thought settles in my stomach, cold and unyielding. Maybe I'll get used to it.

I haven't seen any of the Demir brothers since last night. I should feel relieved, right? They could have bad intentions, and I don't think I'm ready for whatever those intentions might be. It's probably better if I don't see them at all.

I notice Irem's accent again as she talks to Emily and Amani in Turkish. It's heavy but controlled, almost melodic in a way. I imagine it's one of those accents that you don't forget once you've heard it. Too bad I don't understand it.

I shake my head, focusing again. "Focus, Yerenica. Focus."

Irem finishes her instructions and gives me a look, one that holds a silent command. I don't miss it. I nod and turn to make my way toward the stairs.

==

The third floor is quieter than the others, as though it holds secrets no one wants disturbed. The wooden floors creak beneath my feet as I walk, the dim light filtering through tall windows, casting long shadows across the room. It feels like something straight out of a movie—polished, quiet, full of history.

The pictures on the walls catch my eye. They seem like family photos, old, with faded colors that speak of time passed. The men in the frames look like they could be relatives, though I can't be sure. There's something distant about them, something unreadable in their eyes.

I pause for a moment, my gaze lingering on a particular picture. I think it's Zyran. He's scary.

I shake my head, annoyed at myself. "Focus, Yerenica."

I start cleaning, dusting the shelves, and the physical labor helps distract me, even if the tiredness creeps in with every swipe of the cloth. There's a part of me that resents this. Being stuck here. Having to work like this. But there's another part of me that's grateful. Grateful that I'm not back in that hellhole, that I don't have to worry about the stench of rotting wood or the screams of the other girls.

Still, I can't shake the feeling that something's off. I finish with the shelves and move toward the desk, brushing off the dark mahogany surface. I pause to look around the room again, taking in the grand library, its towering shelves of books.

It's beautiful. The kind of place I used to dream about, but never imagined I'd see. There's something about the quiet, the order of it all, that makes me feel both at peace and uneasy.

I stand there for a moment longer, just staring at the books. I can almost smell the old pages, the scent of something untouched by time. But then I snap back to reality. "Get to work," I remind myself.

I go back to dusting the desk, but just as I'm getting into a rhythm, a voice breaks through the silence, too close, too sudden.

"Boo."

I freeze. The sudden sound ringing in my ear.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I spun around, a startled scream escaping my lips.

Thoughts?