For the first time, the house felt alive.
Then—
The door flew open.
The sound was sharp. Violent.
The laughter died instantly.
Daniel Harrington stood in the doorway, tall and imposing in his tailored suit, his presence slicing through the warmth like a blade. His eyes scanned the room—the sheets, the chairs, the toys scattered on the floor.
“What is this ridiculousness?” he snapped.
The twins flinched.
Eli scrambled backward, pulling Lena with him. She let out a small sob before clamping her hands over her mouth.
Amara rose slowly.
“I was just trying to comfort them, sir,” she said carefully.
“This is unacceptable,” Daniel said coldly. “This is not how things are done in my house.”
“They were crying,” Amara replied. “They needed—”
“They have everything they need,” Daniel cut in sharply.
Amara met his gaze.
“No, sir,” she said quietly. “They don’t.”
The room went still.
“You forget your place,” Daniel warned.
“With respect,” Amara replied, her voice trembling but firm, “I know my place very well. I clean your floors. I fold your clothes. And I watch your children grow up without you.”
Eli whimpered.
“That’s enough,” Daniel snapped. “This ends now.”
Amara knelt one last time, smoothing Lena’s hair, then Eli’s.
“The castle will sleep,” she whispered. “But magic doesn’t disappear.”
She left without looking back.
