What died was mercy

Chapter three: A new beginning

The days following her arrival at Mr. Beck’s mansion were uneventful—until they weren’t.

Mia spent her mornings pacing the grand halls, getting accustomed to the rhythm of the mansion. It was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. The house seemed to hold its breath, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. There were no servants with gleaming smiles, no warm greetings—only the occasional passing face, polite nods, and hurried steps.

Her days were spent largely in her room, which was undeniably luxurious but still felt distant, even cold. Her personal attendant, Elia, brought her meals, but the woman’s bright-eyed cheerfulness couldn’t hide her awkwardness around Mia. Elia had been given no real guidance on how to treat Mia, beyond the basics.

And then there was Loren Beck.

Loren was a constant presence. But never a lingering one. He avoided her, for the most part. Whenever he had to pass through her part of the house, he’d do so with purpose, eyes forward, lips tight. It was obvious—he wasn’t interested in making her feel welcome. To him, she was just another inconvenience, a reminder of a promise his grandfather had made.

The tension in the air thickened the longer she stayed. Mr. Beck’s words about her being his guest rang in her mind, but the reality of living in this place didn’t feel like home. The walls were too high, the rooms too spacious, and the silence too deep. It was as if the house itself was full of secrets.

On the third evening after her arrival, Mia ventured downstairs to see more of the mansion. She wandered down a dimly lit hallway that stretched further than she could see. A large tapestry hung on one side, depicting a storm crashing against cliffs—a symbol of endurance in the face of nature’s fury.

She came upon a small library. The wooden door creaked as she pushed it open, revealing shelves stacked with books that looked untouched. This room felt different. Warmer. She approached the shelves, running her fingers over the bindings of the books. There were volumes of ancient history, classic literature, and even books on art. A few times, she considered pulling one off the shelf, but something held her back.

Instead, she sat in a leather chair by the window, staring out into the vast expanse of the Beck family estate. The garden looked so alive, the flowers bright against the night sky. But here, in this house, it all seemed like an illusion.

Her thoughts drifted back to her former life.

Mia had been a Romanoff—wealthy, well-known, but with a darker truth hidden behind the walls of their lavish home. She had been powerful, outspoken, and unapologetically bold. She had everything, and yet it had been ripped away in a single, fiery moment. Now, she was Lilac Mack—someone who had never been given a chance, someone whose entire life had been defined by how little she was worth in the eyes of her family.

This mansion, the Beck family, everything about this new life was alien.

Her reverie was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

“Miss Mack?” Elia’s voice called gently from outside.

Mia stood and opened the door, smiling briefly as the younger woman entered with a tray of food.

“Dinner, Miss Mack. Mr. Beck said you should eat. You’ve barely touched anything today.”

“I’m not hungry,” Mia said softly, not wanting to explain her lack of appetite.

Elia looked concerned, but she didn’t push. “I’ll leave it here then. Please, don’t hesitate to ask for anything.”

Mia nodded. Elia left the room, and Mia was left alone once more.

As she sat at the table, her eyes drifted toward the tray but didn’t focus on the food. Instead, she stared blankly out the window again, lost in thought.

This house was supposed to offer her safety—protection from the outside world, from the people who had wanted her dead. But Mia had learned by now that safety was an illusion. If there was one thing she had learned in her short life, it was that nothing was ever really safe.

She knew the Beck family had their secrets. And she couldn’t trust anyone in this place, not yet.

The door to her room opened again, and this time, it wasn’t Elia.

Loren Beck stood in the doorway, his presence commanding the space. He looked at her, cold, distant, as always, but there was something new in his gaze today. It wasn’t warmth, but it wasn’t disdain either.

Mia didn’t speak immediately, waiting for him to say something.

“You’re not sleeping,” he observed flatly.

“I’m not tired,” she replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “Is that a problem?”

His lips twitched slightly. “Do you have any idea what my grandfather expects from you?”

She straightened in her chair, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m here as his guest. He owes me that much

Loren’s eyes hardened at her words. “Then you’ll have a hard time here. You can’t just walk into this life and assume you can do as you please. There are… responsibilities.”

Mia stood up, her tone sharp. “I didn’t ask for this life.”

His gaze softened for the briefest moment, but he quickly masked it. “No one ever does.”

He turned and left as quickly as he came, the door shutting with a soft click behind him.

Mia’s thoughts were racing again. It was clear—there was more going on here than she understood. But as she reflected on Loren’s words, something clicked. Mr. Beck’s actions weren’t out of obligation or manipulation. He was simply grateful for what she had done for him. She had saved his life, and now he wanted to ensure she was safe, comfortable, and well taken care of. But was that all?

She wasn’t sure, but one thing was certain: this mansion, this family, and everything in between had their own complexities. And she was just beginning to uncover them.