Dominic
780 Words
Leah had always thought silence was just the absence of sound.
Now she knew better.
Silence could have weight. Texture. Shape. It could curl around your spine and sit heavy on your shoulders like a secret.
And for Leah, that secret now had a name: Dominic Westbrook.
She went back to work like nothing had happened.
Polished the brass railings. Refilled the pantry. Cleaned the guest bathroom three times just to avoid studying.
But the image of that photo haunted her.
Not because he looked the same.
Because he didn’t.
Three years ago, he was relaxed. Smiling. Charming, even — in a detached kind of way.
Now? Even in the photograph, his shoulders seemed heavier. Like something had hardened in him over time. Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed it back then.
Or maybe she had.
And chose not to care.
That afternoon, Rebecca found herself in the breakfast room, wiping down the table.
“You missed the upstairs linen check,” she said sharply.
“Sorry. I was restocking the dry goods. I’ll go now.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “Something on your mind, Miss Brooks?”
Leah shook her head. “Just adjusting to the routine.”
Rebecca watched her a moment longer, then turned on her heel. “Stick to your list. And keep out of studying unless instructed.”
Too late for that, Leah thought.
But she kept her face still.
At lunch, Henry handed her a mug of tea without asking.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said gently.
“Feels like I have.”
He gave her a look. “This house will do that to you. Especially if you carry too much in.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t talk much about your son.”
Leah wrapped her fingers around the mug. “Not much to tell.”
“You miss him.”
She nodded.
“You ever think about telling—”
“No,” she said quickly. “Not yet.”
Henry studied her. “Secrets grow legs when they sit too long.”
She offered a strained smile. “Some secrets don’t know how to walk. They crawl. And they wait.”
She spent the next few days avoiding the west wing.
Not because she was told to — but because she couldn’t trust herself.
The package from the law firm had disappeared from the study. So had the photo frame.
She hadn’t seen Dominic. Not once.
Not even a glimpse.
Sometimes she wondered if he was even real, or just the house’s way of reminding her what she’d lost.
By Friday morning, her rhythm had returned.
Wake up. Clean. Organize. Call Eli before bed. Lie awake after.
But everything changed when Rebecca gave her the clipboard.
“Mr. Westbrook has a guest arriving tonight. You’ll prep the guest suite and set out the welcome tray.”
Leah hesitated. “Will Mr. Westbrook be present?”
“I imagine so. It’s his sister.”
Leah blinked. “Does he have a sister?”
Rebecca raised a brow. “You think billionaires come from nowhere?”
“No, I just didn’t know.”
“She’s not a fan of staff chit-chat. Don’t engage. Prepare the room and keep your distance.”
Leah nodded.
But her mind was already spinning.
She prepped the suite with practiced care.
Fluffed pillows. Polished the chrome. Arranged the monogrammed towel set just so.
But her thoughts stayed on the sister.
Maybe someone who knew him well. Maybe someone who’d unknowingly dropped clues — pieces Leah couldn’t ask for directly.
Maybe someone who could tell her whether Dominic Westbrook would ever care about a boy with his eyes.
That evening, just past six, Leah lingered in the hall near the staircase. She wasn’t scheduled for anything — but she found a reason to dust the banister a little longer.
Footsteps echoed from the foyer.
Two sets.
She peeked from behind the curve of the hall.
A woman — tall, slim, sharp-featured — in a navy coat. She walked ahead confidently, heels striking marble like punctuation.
Behind her — briefly — a figure.
Tall.
Broad.
Dominic.
He said something too low to hear.
His sister replied with a laugh — dry and short.
They disappeared into the west wing.
Leah’s heart thundered.
Not just because she’d finally seen him again.
Because now she didn’t just recognize him…
She recognized his voice.
It was the same voice from that night in the hotel. The one that had said her name like a promise and a warning all at once.
And now he was just a room away.
And still didn’t know.
- Writer
