Chapter 11
Faye had not applied to my household by chance.
Sabine recruited her.
That was the next betrayal.
After learning Lucien was living in St. Alden and had become close to Faye and June, Sabine watched them quietly.
Five months ago, when Victor’s papers surfaced and Lucien stopped accepting money, Sabine panicked.
She needed someone near him.
Faye.
So she arranged a household vacancy.
Higher pay.
Housing assistance.
Meals for June through staff family benefits.
A good offer.
Faye accepted.
Then Sabine slowly revealed the trap.
If Faye carried messages from Lucien, privileges disappeared.
If she mentioned St. Alden, shifts changed.
If she hummed the melody, June’s dinner allowance disappeared.
That was the threat tonight.
Sing again. Your daughter skips dinner.
Not metaphor.
System.
Faye had been using staff meal vouchers to feed June on long workdays.
Sabine controlled them as hostess.
I felt sick.
Again, a powerful person taking something ordinary—food—and turning it into obedience.
I asked Faye to come in.
She did.
June waited with another staff member downstairs.
“I should have known.”
Faye shook her head.
“No.”
“I should know how people in my house are treated.”
That changed her expression.
Better answer.
“What did Lucien ask you to do?”
“Nothing until three weeks ago.”
Then he gave her the melody as signal.
Not because she did not know it.
Because he knew Sabine would recognize it publicly.
He told Faye:
If Dorian protects Sabine immediately, leave.
If he protects you, tell him the grave is wrong.
That was the test.
I almost disliked my brother again.
Then remembered why he needed it.
“Why tonight?”
Faye looked around.
Anniversary reception.
The exact week ten years after Lucien’s funeral.
Symbolic.
But also practical.
Thirty witnesses.
Sabine could not quietly fire Faye before she spoke.
Lucien understood my sister better than I had.
I looked at Faye.
“Your daughter’s meals are not Sabine’s to control.”
Her eyes filled.
“She said household benefits belonged to family.”
“No.”
I paused.
“And your job?”
She stiffened.
“Also yours.”
Not Lucien’s reward.
Not my compensation.
She could stay.
Leave.
Change positions.
Her choice.
Then Lucien said quietly:
“See?”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“That’s not the brother Sabine described.”
May you like
Ten years of distance shifted one inch.
Sometimes one inch is enormous.
