The estate was too quiet for a place that big. Alina stood at the threshold of the house with her suitcase in hand, staring up at the rows of glass windows reflecting nothing but gray skies and swaying trees.
A butler with sharp features opened the door without a smile. He took her bag, showed her to her room, and informed her that the boy she was meant to tutor—sixteen-year-old Roman—was out for the day. She could rest. Settle in.
She wasn’t used to silence like this. The halls were long and dim, filled with old oil paintings and heavy rugs that swallowed her footsteps. Everything felt too expensive. Like the air itself cost money.
By evening, she had unpacked, eaten alone in the marble kitchen, and grown bored. She wandered.
The mansion had no end. Libraries stacked with leather-boun
