Page 16 of The Silence of Monsters

Winnie begged Win to order pizza for dinner, and he relented, but of course, it wasn’t a greasy to-go pie. It was a homemade pizza, straight from a brick oven somewhere on the property. The ingredients were fresh, and the smell was divine. I couldn’t argue that it was a good pizza, but it wasn’t better than the giant messy slices you could pick up at any pizzeria in the city. I added taking Winnie for an authentic slice to the list of experiences I wanted her to have before my deal with Win ended.

Win and Winnie kept up a steady flow of conversation throughout the evening. They were noticeably comfortable in each other’s company, and I was jealous of the connection they shared. I was glad Win wasn’t as uptight and authoritarian as I imagined. It put the way he dealt with me in sharp contrast. He treated me more like a wayward child than the actual child he cared for.

After we ate, Winnie went off to her room to talk to a friend and get ready for bed. Win disappeared into what I assumed was his office, leaving me to my own devices.

I walked to the big Oriel window and looked at the ocean that seemed endless in the dark. People would kill for a view like this. There were only a handful of homes on the highest point of the cliff. Builders constructed these homes a hundred years ago when houses were made of stone and had ornate stained glass in the windows. They looked more like castles than family estates. They were the legacy that was handed down from generation to generation. The only way to own one was to be born with the proper last name.

When I was younger and I begged Willow to bring me along when she delivered to this house, it felt like a fairytale whenever I stepped on the immaculate grounds. It was easy to picture a princess running through the flowers in the gardens or a prince strolling down the majestic staircase. It was fun to pretend that the estate was a magical place. As an adult, it felt cold and empty. The house was stunning, but it was hollow. Aside from this little hideaway where Win and Winnie lived, there was no life or love anywhere within the stone walls. It was more like a prison than a fantastic wonderland. I began to understand why Win was so detached from everyone and everything. How could anyone who grew up in a place that felt so barren know what it was like to be surrounded by warmth? Weren’t we all a byproduct of the foundation we’d been given? Win’s was rigid and unforgiving.

As the night wore on and it seemed like Win wasn’t going to reappear from his office, I gathered what I would need for a shower and poked around the extensive suite until I found the main bathroom. I tossed everything haphazardly onto a marble countertop and reached out to fiddle with the brass knobs in the shower. I giggled a little when I noticed the levers looked like little swan heads. Rich people’s aesthetic was both atrocious and adorable.

I hummed under my breath and stepped into the shower. The water rattled in the pipes but heated fast. I closed my eyes and tried to wash away the earlier encounter with Colette. There was little doubt that I needed to brace myself because the battle had just begun. Now that it was the end of the day, my reservations were piling up.

I was tired. It was exhaustion that made your soul ache and had you questioning every step you took that led you to this point. There was no going back but going forward felt overwhelming.

I let the water rush over me and tried to loosen some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. I lost track of the tune I was humming and let my mind drift away, making a mental note of potential job opportunities in the Cove and the surrounding areas. I wasn’t sure I could emotionally handle stepping back into the bakery where I’d grown up. Though it would be nice to see what had changed since my mother left her career behind. The last time I remembered her smiling was in that bakery. While she was highly emotional and unpredictable, she always seemed to keep it together and mask her more debilitating traits when she was elbow deep in dough.

The pipes squeaked and rattled again when I turned off the water. As I pushed open the glass door and stepped out of the steamy enclosure, I paused and tilted my head. A faint sound seemed to whisper underneath my feet. I looked down at the custom tile and shivered as I wrapped a large towel around myself. I couldn’t tell whether Winnie’s ghost stories were getting to me, but I swore the song I was tunelessly humming minutes ago was whistling back at me through the floor. I screwed up my face and pressed my ear against the wall. It was warm from the steam of the shower, and my skin slipped against the surface. As soon as I touched the cool marble, the sound disappeared. I chalked it up to my being mentally drained and overstimulated.

I did my skincare routine and brushed my teeth. By the time I was done, I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

The lights in the suite were dimmed, and a blanket and pillow were on the couch. I popped my head into Winnie’s room. She was curled in a ball, clutching the pink stuffed animal that was in the living room earlier. I was taken aback by the sudden burn of tears in my eyes and the tangle of emotions at the back of my throat.

My sister was robbed of the opportunity to experience simple and quiet moments like these, it didn’t feel fair.

I whispered, “Sweet dreams,” and went to set up camp on the couch. I had no idea if Win found me a blanket and pillow. If he did, I had no intention of thanking him. The light was still on in the room where he’d locked himself away earlier. He probably had a pile of stuff to catch up on since he’d been juggling our marriage arrangements and dealing with his mother the last couple of weeks. He worked tirelessly at a job he detested, making him a better man than most.

I thought I heard the faint tune trickling through the ancient walls, but I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I was so out of it; I didn’t even move a muscle when I was forcibly picked up and moved into the primary bedroom hours later.

When I woke up the next morning, fully refreshed by myself in Win’s massive antique bed, I felt like I’d sleepwalked into an alternate reality. Like a romance novel where the average, relatable girl suddenly caught the eye of a handsome billionaire.

I should’ve known that regardless of how prepared I was for the upcoming challenges, this house and the secrets hidden inside the walls still had the ability to surprise me.

Win

I learned a lot about Channing Harvey in the few short weeks she’d been at the estate.

She really could sleep anywhere. The couch. The big recliner in the corner. Winnie’s room. On the floor. Propped up against the big, sea-facing windows. If she found a place to rest her head and closed her eyes, she was out like a light. It’d become a nightly habit to move her from whatever awkward location where she’d zonked out into a bed. More often than not, I surrendered my own and slept on the chaise lounge in my office. Occasionally, she stayed with Winnie in her room because my niece was prone to nightmares and fitful bouts of night terrors. I wasn’t certain Channing was assuaging Winnie’s fear that there was something hiding within the walls. I frequently found her pressing her ear against the barrier and knocking on old structures throughout the house like she was trying to find a hollow spot or secret entrance.

I discovered she was impervious to insults from those she considered unimportant. My mother had gone above and beyond to make sure Channing knew she was not wanted in her home. None of the staff acknowledged the redhead. They treated her as if she were air, and the frigid cold shoulder extended beyond the walls of the estate. When Channing started looking for work, every business that operated in the Cove refused to even let her apply. My mother spread the word that anyone who had interactions with Channing would no longer be considered for business or service opportunities for the Hallidays and their acquaintances. Not to mention, there were various companies and services my mother funded that I had nothing to do with. She had too much pull on the local economy for me to interfere. I think my father gave her control of whatever opportunity caught her eye to keep her out of his hair. Or maybe they were bribes to keep her silent about the affair. There was no way in hell that my mother didn’t know what the old man was up to behind her back.

My mother made it nearly impossible for Channing to take part in school functions with Winnie.

One of the first things she did when she moved in was teach Winnie that while privilege was nice and came with a slew of advantages, there was no guarantee in life that a person would always have whatever they needed. When she found out Winnie’s school was only a five-minute drive away, she bought a couple of old-fashioned beachcomber bicycles. The girls spent the weekend sanding them down and painting them bright colors. Channing wanted Winnie to ride her bike to and from school when the weather permitted. I agreed, as long as a member of my security team tagged along to make sure nothing happened on the way. Initially, I was worried the other kids who attended the elite private school would taunt my niece. Channing told me it was okay if they did, because Winnie needed to learn how to differentiate between real and manufactured criticism. She insisted it was a perfect way for our niece to weed out who her real friends were, and who only hung around because of her last name.

It turned out that a handful of her classmates thought riding a bike to school was cool in a retro way. There was even some envy that she had a bit of freedom most of the children from extremely well-to-do families rarely had.

The problems arose when Winnie wanted to bring Channing onto the school grounds so she could introduce her to her friends and her favorite teachers. The school’s security team refused to let Channing beyond the gilded gates. They told her if she tried to enter the property, with or without Winnie, they would have her arrested for trespassing. My niece felt outraged and insulted on Channing’s behalf. She called me and yelled in my ear for nearly twenty minutes. I promised I would call the school and add Channing to the visitor’s list. Unfortunately, it was a promise I couldn’t fulfill. My mother wasted no time in making moves to keep Channing from the places she deemed her unworthy of entering. The director of the school did not hesitate to brag about the obscene monetary donation my mother had made in Archie’s name to the school. Unless I wanted to build them a new building, or double my mother’s fake charitable act, Channing was stuck close enough to see how the influential and powerful were educated but far enough away that she wouldn’t learn their secrets.

However, my mother miscalculated Channing’s skills and motivation. She was self-sufficient and didn’t need the staff at home. My personal housekeeper was required less and less because Channing could cook. And while a job close to the estate would be convenient, Channing never intended to spend her time toiling in Colette Halliday’s backyard. When I asked her what she intended to do since she was adamant to go back to work, she smiled at me in a way that made the back of my neck itch and told me I would just have to wait and see. Her tone indicated she had a plan, and it was nowhere near as harmless as going back to the bakery.

As for the situation with the school, she couldn’t care less. As long as she got to drop off Winnie at the gates and pick her up so they could ride home together, she was content with the status quo. In fact, most of Winnie’s friends attempted to breach the invisible barrier so they could meet Channing. Winnie had always sung her praises and told anyone who would listen how cool and fun her aunt was. The kids from the upper-class treated Channing like she was an animal on display in the zoo. It was almost like they’d never witnessed a woman who wore torn jeans and old sweatpants before. When she dropped off Winnie while wearing her pajamas, they gawked at her and asked her ridiculous questions about living a pedestrian lifestyle. Twice, she was mistaken for a staff member. She laughed it off and joked that if she worked for one of the families in the Cove, she would be far better off financially. From the secondhand information I received, Channing took the innocent curiosity in stride. Her unbothered attitude just made my mother angrier.

The older woman tried to use my same tricks to get Channing to leave the marriage and the estate. She went after her parents and her friends and tried to dismantle her life. Unfortunately for my mother, I’d learned how to play dirty directly from her. I blocked every move she tried to make and warned her again that if she kept trying to push Channing out of our lives, she was going to lose more than she bargained for. She never listened. Thus far, Channing remained unfazed, but no matter how strong she was, there was bound to come a time when she couldn’t handle the abuse. I did my best to be a buffer, so I was spending more time at home and less at the office. It was the first time in my life I experienced a reasonable work/life balance. Not even when I took over as Winnie’s guardian did I dedicate an equal amount of time and focus on what was happening at home. I was programmed to prioritize Halliday Inc. over anyone and everything. It wasn’t until Channing Harvey disrupted the ebb and flow of my very existence that I realized I should want more for myself. No. That I needed more than a company and an unwanted inheritance to be successful and feel fulfilled.

Today when I got back to the sprawling estate after having been away for several days, the large manor was eerily hushed. None of my mother’s staff was bustling about, and there was no sign of the older woman. Winnie’s room was empty, and there wasn’t a hint of a single living person in my private wing.

The silence made me frown as I took off my suit jacket and pulled at my tie. I secretly looked forward to being greeted by Channing and Winnie. I’d never had the kind of family that was excited to see one another at the end of each day. It often felt like we were work colleagues rather than relatives. Sharing a space with Channing changed all of that. There was always a sense of warmth when I returned. If my days spent grinding and scheming for the company were an unchanging black and white, Channing painted the time we spent together with every color of the rainbow. It was a stark contrast that was altering the way I’d viewed a bleak future.

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