Chapter 13
The fire changed Blackwood—no, Arden—operations in one unexpected way.
I stopped allowing household status to hide information.
Not because I wanted bureaucracy.
The opposite.
If someone under my roof believed a child, employee, elder, or guest was being mistreated, they could speak directly to the estate steward or to me.
No permission from the person being accused.
Obvious.
Apparently revolutionary.
One captain complained:
“Staff will start acting equal.”
I looked at him.
“Equal in what?”
He hesitated.
“Voice.”
“Good.”
He did not like that.
He survived.
I was still boss.
Nobody confused kitchen assignments with command authority.
But the culture shifted.
Blythe noticed before adults.
One evening she spilled juice.
A young server corrected her sharply.
Blythe looked at me.
Old world expected me to defend the boss’s daughter.
I said:
“You spilled it.”
She sighed dramatically.
Then cleaned with him.
Mirella watched.
Later she said:
“That matters.”
“What?”
“That you didn’t make him apologize for talking to her like a normal child.”
I understood.
Power distorts children too.
If every adult fears correcting Blythe, she will eventually believe feelings equal authority.
I had already seen what entitlement looked like in grown people.
I did not want to raise it.
Eliana would have agreed.
May you like
The thought no longer hurt as sharply.
Maybe because memory was becoming companion instead of command.
