Chapter 5 Eleanor’s POV

The words hovered between us, sharp as glass.

“Care to elaborate?”

For a moment, my mind went white—pure, animal panic. His gaze didn’t just look at me; it unmade me. The study’s silence pressed in, heavy with centuries of books and the unblinking watchfulness of the house itself.

This is it, I thought.

The first real test, and if I failed, there wouldn’t be a second chance.

I let my lower lip tremble—just slightly. Heat rose in my cheeks, my pulse hammering in my ears like a drum signalling the panic threatening to break through. My fingers twisted into my apron, a futile anchor, while I widened my eyes just enough to seem genuinely startled, not practiced.

“Elaborate, sir?” I stammered, voice climbing an octave. “I… I don’t know what to say. I was only startled. The noise, it was so blunt, like a hammer striking stone.” I bowed my head, fingers knotting in the fabric. “I apologize if I spoke out of turn.”

He studied me—not suspicion, but with the calm intensity of a man who notices when dust settles in the wrong pattern.

“‘Startled,’” he repeated flatly. He stepped closer. The clean scent of sandalwood and linen wrapped around me, undercut by something colder—steel, maybe, or ozone before a storm. “Most people say ‘sorry’ when flustered. They don’t describe sound in tactical terms.”

My throat tightened.

Think. Adapt. “It’s… my father, sir,” I said, letting my voice waver with just a hint of wistfulness. “He was a history teacher. Loved military strategy.

"He used to say things like that at dinner—‘blunt instrument,’ ‘decisive force.’ I suppose I… picked it up without meaning to.” I risked a glance upward, lashes lowered. “It won’t happen again.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes drifted past me to the sitting area.

Against every instinct, I followed his gaze.

Between two black leather chairs sat an open chessboard, deep in play.

White’s ivory pieces had launched a bold, almost reckless offensive: a knight embedded in Black’s territory, backed by a pawn, pressing hard on the king’s flank. But in doing so, White had left its own king dangerously exposed.

It was a reckless gambit—just like my own position. Every move I made echoed in this silent house, and one misstep could be my last. Aggressive, yes—but foolish.

Even someone unfamiliar with chess could see the flaw.

Each piece mirrored my place here: bold, but exposed. The knight was my momentum. The king’s vulnerability—my greatest fear.

A bishop to C5 would deliver an immediate check, dismantling the whole attack.

I must have sighed—just a breath, barely there, because his eyes snapped back to mine.

“Do you play?”

The question hit like ice water. A maid quoting Sun Tzu was one thing. One who reads chessboards? That was a thread leading straight to my throat.

“Oh, no, sir!” I laughed—a little too fast, a little too high. “It all looks terribly complicated to me. All those little horses and castles…” I trailed off, feigning confusion.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t look away.

He walked to the board, movements smooth and silent. In his hand, the queen loomed like an executioner’s blade. Every piece told a story of sacrifice; I wondered which one I’d become.

“This is a game of consequence,” he said, voice low and resonant. “Every move matters.

Every piece has purpose.”

He set the queen down.

Click.

“There is no such thing as a wrong move.” He looked at me knowingly.

He wasn’t talking about chess anymore.

He was talking about me—the spoon, the phrase, the slip.

He was telling me, I see you.

Then he turned his back—no anger, no threat. Just dismissal.

Somehow, that was worse. It meant he didn’t need to press. He’d already won.

“That’s all.”

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured, already retreating.

I didn’t breathe again until I reached the staff corridor; the study door shut behind me like a vault. I leaned against the cool plaster, forehead pressed to the wall, hands trembling.

He didn’t know who I was.

But he knew I wasn’t who I claimed to be.

And in this house, that was enough to end me.

The game had changed—and I’d just handed him my first real clue.

Then, down the hall, a familiar voice: “Ellie?”

Ollie stood there with two mugs of tea, warm and unaware of the knife’s edge I walked.

But as I met his eyes, I saw movement at the top of the grand staircase—still, silent.

Alec.

Watching. Waiting.

The queen was on the board, and the king was already three moves ahead.

I had one chance to survive: play smarter, lie better, and never let either of them see the truth in my eyes again.

Because the next mistake wouldn’t just expose me.

It would be the last thing I ever did.

And yet… a strange calm settled over me as I straightened my apron.

He’d seen something. But he hadn’t called me out.

That meant he wanted to watch. To test. To see how far I’d go.

Which meant I still had room to move.

I took a breath, smoothed my hair, and walked toward Ollie—toward the only kindness left in this gilded cage.

But my mind was already racing ahead,

What does he know? What does he suspect? And how long before he decides I’m more dangerous than useful?

The chessboard wasn’t just in the study anymore.

It was everywhere, and I was no longer just a pawn.

I was the one piece he couldn’t quite place.

Which made me the most dangerous of all.