THE SECRETS IN THE EAST WING

Secrets in the East Wing Chapter 1: The Job No One Wants The agency called it "a generous position with room and board included." They didn’t mention why no one stayed longer than 3 months. Lina Carter stood at the iron gates of Blackwood Manor with one suitcase and 200 shillings to her name. The wind cut through her thin university hoodie. Rain was starting to fall, making the gravel driveway shine like broken glass. Tuition was due in 2 weeks. Her little sister’s medicine was due tomorrow. The landlord had knocked yesterday. Triple pay. That’s what the letter said. *Triple the normal maid’s salary. Live-in. Immediate start.* It felt like a trap. It felt like the only option. The gates creaked open on their own. No guard. No camera. Just the sound of metal and wind. The butler who met her was older than the stone walls. Tall. Pale. Eyes like glass. He wore black gloves even though it wasn’t cold inside. "Miss Carter?" "Yes sir." Lina’s voice came out smaller than she wanted. "Mr. Graves," he said. "Follow me." He didn’t take her suitcase. He didn’t smile. "Rule one," he said as they walked through a hallway that smelled like dust and old roses. "The East Wing is forbidden. To all staff. At all times." Lina nodded fast. "Yes, sir." She didn’t care about wings. She cared about the check that would hit her account on Friday. She cared about her sister’s antibiotics. Blackwood Manor was too big. Too quiet. The West Wing had warm lights and a fire burning in the hearth. The center had a library that smelled like old paper and leather. Portraits lined the walls. Men with stern faces. Women with pearls and sad eyes. The East Wing had chains across the doors. Real chains. Thick and rusted. A brass plaque read: PRIVATE. DO NOT ENTER. "Who lives there?" Lina asked before she could stop herself. Mr. Graves stopped walking. "No one, Miss Carter. The East Wing has been empty for 20 years. Ever since..." He didn’t finish. "Rule two. Curfew is 10 PM. After that, stay in your room." "The Duke?" "The Duke takes meals in his study," Mr. Graves cut in. "You will not see him unless summoned. Do you understand?" "Yes." Her room was on the second floor, West Wing. Small but warm. A narrow bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a window that looked over dead gardens and a fountain with no water. Clean sheets. No mirror. A single key on the desk. "For your room," Mr. Graves said, dropping it. "Dinner is at 7. You will serve." Then he was gone, and the door clicked shut. Lina sat on the bed. It dipped under her weight. For the first time in months, she didn’t have to worry about rent tonight. The relief made her cry. Quiet, stupid tears. She unpacked in 10 minutes. Two shirts, two trousers, one good dress for interviews she would never go to now. A photo of her and her sister, Maya. Age 8, gap-toothed smile. At 7 PM she served dinner to an empty dining room. Mr. Graves said the Duke preferred solitude. The food was good. Too good. Roast chicken, potatoes, wine she wasn’t allowed to touch. By 9:30 she was in bed, exhausted. The manor was silent. The kind of silent that makes your ears ring. At exactly midnight, the silence broke. Singing. Soft. Sad. A woman’s voice. A lullaby she didn’t know but felt like she should. It was coming from upstairs. From the direction of the chained doors. Lina sat up in bed, sheets clutched to her chest. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The house was supposed to be empty. The agency said the East Wing had been empty for 20 years. Ever since the Duke’s wife disappeared. The singing stopped. Then a door creaked. Slow. Like someone was testing the hinges from the inside. Lina didn’t breathe. Footsteps. Bare feet on wood. Right outside her door. They paused. Right there. A whisper. So quiet she almost missed it. "Lina..." Her name. Her blood went cold. She hadn’t told anyone her name except Mr. Graves at the gate. The footsteps moved away. Down the hall. Toward the East Wing. Away from her. Lina stared at her door until the sun came up. She didn’t sleep. She didn’t dare move. At breakfast, Mr. Graves set down her tea without looking at her. "Sleep well, Miss Carter?" Lina forced a smile. Her hands shook. "Yes," she lied. "Very well." But when she looked out the window while clearing plates, she saw it. One window in the East Wing. Third floor. Lit. With a warm yellow glow. Even though no one was supposed to be in there. Even though the chains were still on the doors. Mr. Graves followed her gaze. His face went blank. "Do not look at the East Wing, Miss Carter," he said quietly. "That is rule three." Lina nodded. But in her pocket, her fingers closed around the cold iron key from her desk. She didn’t know what it opened. But she was starting to think she was meant to find out. End of Chapter 1