The rules of the house
Chapter 2 – The Rules of the House
Ava Carter POV
The silence followed me down the hall like a shadow.
I wiped at the stray raindrops on my face as I climbed the long staircase. My boots squeaked against the polished wood, and every creak in the walls made me flinch. Damon Blackwood’s warning echoed in my head.
Don’t go near the east wing. Ever.
I swallowed, hugging my coat tighter.
By the time I reached the end of the right wing, I felt like I’d walked a mile. The corridor was lined with heavy portraits—faces I didn’t recognize, all painted in that haunting, classical style. Pale skin. Cold eyes. Staring down at me like I didn’t belong.
I reached the last door on the right. It opened without protest, revealing a room bigger than my entire old apartment.
A queen-sized bed with a tufted headboard sat beneath a crystal chandelier. The walls were a soft, dusty rose, and thick velvet curtains hung from the windows. A fireplace flickered quietly in the corner, already lit.
Who lit it? The staff was gone.
A chill ran through me.
Still, I stepped inside and dropped my suitcase near the closet. The bed looked impossibly soft, but I didn’t dare sit on it yet. I stood there, dripping on the expensive-looking rug, feeling like an imposter in someone else’s life.
The silence kept pressing in.
I toed off my boots and peeled off my soaked coat, hanging it on the back of the chair. My phone had no service, not that I expected it to. Places like this didn’t welcome distractions.
I went into the bathroom—marble floors, clawfoot tub, pristine white towels. I looked at myself in the mirror.
Wet hair. Pale skin. Eyes too tired to care. I barely recognized the girl staring back.
I brushed my teeth with the emergency toothbrush in my bag and changed into fresh clothes—an old hoodie and leggings. My fingers lingered over the locket around my neck, the one with my sister’s photo inside. My reminder. My reason for being here.
Keep it together, Ava.
I crawled into bed, expecting sleep to take me fast.
It didn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face.
Damon Blackwood.
The way he stared at me—like he already knew how this story ended.
I woke to soft knocking.
Three short taps.
I blinked against the morning light and sat up slowly. For a moment, I forgot where I was.
Then I remembered.
The mansion. The rules. The warning.
Another knock.
"Miss Carter?" A woman’s voice.
I scrambled out of bed and opened the door. A tall woman in her forties stood there, dressed in a sharp gray uniform. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun, and she carried a tray with coffee, toast, and fruit.
"Good morning," she said curtly. "I’m Margaret. House staff. Mr. Blackwood asked that I wake you. You’ll meet Miss Emilia shortly."
"Thank you," I said, stepping aside. "Please come in."
She entered without hesitation, placing the tray on a side table.
"Breakfast. You’ll join them for lunch in the solarium. Miss Emilia is in the playroom until then."
"Where’s that?"
"Left wing. Third floor. But don’t go wandering. Only follow the route I give."
That word again—rules.
"Understood."
"And Miss Carter?" Margaret looked me dead in the eye. "Don’t get comfortable. No one lasts long here."
My stomach twisted.
---
Emilia was not what I expected.
She sat cross-legged on a plush rug, surrounded by toys she didn’t touch. She looked up when I entered—small, delicate, maybe six years old. Long black hair, a face too serious for her age.
"You’re the new one," she said quietly.
I nodded, kneeling a few feet from her. "I’m Ava. I’ll be here to help."
"You’ll leave soon."
"Why do you say that?"
"Everyone does."
She returned her gaze to the dollhouse in front of her. It was eerily similar to Blackwood Estate.
"Do you want to play together?" I asked.
She shook her head. "You can just sit."
So I did.
We sat in silence for a long time. I watched her arrange the furniture in her miniature mansion, wondering what kind of life she lived—cut off from the world, no school, no friends.
No mother.
"Do you miss her?" I asked gently.
Emilia didn’t look up. "She’s not here."
"But do you—"
"Daddy says we don’t talk about her."
I swallowed my next words.
---
Lunch in the solarium felt like a test.
Sunlight poured through the glass walls. The table was set for three, but Damon didn’t speak much. He sat at the head, Emilia to his left, me to his right. He watched everything.
How I helped Emilia cut her food.
How I answered her questions.
How I kept my eyes away from him.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"She hasn’t spoken that much to anyone in weeks."
I looked at him. "She’s lonely."
"She’s protected. There’s a difference."
I didn’t reply. It wasn’t my place.
"Margaret tells me you followed the instructions."
"Yes, sir."
"Don’t call me sir. I’m not your employer. I’m your warning."
Emilia looked up, frowning. "Daddy."
He turned his attention to her, and something softened in his face.
Something human.
"Eat your food, Emmy."
---
That night, I couldn’t sleep again.
I kept hearing footsteps in the hallway. Not loud—just a faint shuffle, like someone dragging a foot.
I checked the time. 2:17 AM.
Too late for staff. Too early for routine.
I crept out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and opened my door a sliver.
The hallway was empty.
But the sound came again.
Shuffle. Pause. Shuffle.
From the east wing.
My heart thundered.
Don’t go near the east wing. Ever.
But something—curiosity, instinct, something stronger than fear—pulled me toward it.
I tiptoed down the corridor, barefoot. The cold floor bit at my feet as I passed the portraits again, their eyes seeming to follow me.
The east wing door was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open…
Only to freeze.
Inside the dark hallway, a woman stood at the far end.
Long hair. Pale nightgown. Barefoot.
She turned slowly—eyes meeting mine.
And then she vanished.
I gasped, stepping back into the wall, heart slamming in my chest.
No.
That wasn’t possible.
But I saw her.
She was real.
Wasn’t she?
Behind me, a low voice spoke:
"I told you never to come here."
I spun around.
Damon.
Standing in the shadows. Watching me.
His voice dropped an octave.
"Now you’ve seen what you shouldn’t have."