Chapter 3: The Darkness Behind the Mansion
1503 Words
The piercing scream echoed through the mansion once again.
It wasn't the frightened cry of someone startled by the sudden blackout.
It was a scream filled with terror.
Hena's pulse quickened as she raced down the dimly lit hallway. The emergency lights flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows across the marble floor. Portraits of the Black family lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow her every step.
"Miss Prat, wait!" Mrs. Brooks called after her.
But Hena couldn't stop.
Her instincts had already taken over.
As a caregiver, she had been trained to respond first and ask questions later.
The scream came again.
This time it was much closer.
At the end of the hallway, a maid stumbled backward, her trembling hands covering her mouth. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at a bedroom door that hung half open.
"She's inside..." the maid whispered.
Hena didn't hesitate.
She pushed the door open.
The room was in complete darkness except for the faint moonlight pouring through the enormous windows.
Broken glass littered the floor.
A vase lay shattered near the fireplace.
A bedside lamp had been knocked over.
An elderly woman clung desperately to the corner of the room, her entire body shaking violently. Her breathing was ragged, and she stared toward the balcony as if she had seen a ghost.
"Ma'am?" Hena said gently.
The woman didn't respond.
Her terrified eyes remained fixed on the open balcony doors.
Hena slowly approached.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
Still no response.
Behind her, several servants gathered outside but none dared enter.
"What happened?" Hena asked.
One of the maids swallowed nervously.
"Lady Eleanor... she... she saw someone."
"Someone?"
"A man dressed in black."
Hena turned toward the balcony.
A cold breeze swept into the room.
The curtains danced wildly.
She stepped outside.
Nothing.
Only the distant city lights beneath the hill where Black Manor stood.
She examined the balcony carefully.
Then she noticed it.
A muddy footprint.
Fresh.
Someone had indeed been there.
Her brows knitted together.
This balcony was on the second floor.
How could anyone climb up here?
Before she could inspect further, a cold voice interrupted.
"What exactly are you doing?"
Hena turned.
Dariel stood in the doorway.
Even in the darkness, his presence dominated the room.
He looked impossibly calm.
Too calm.
"I found a footprint," Hena replied.
"So?"
"So someone was here."
Dariel glanced at the muddy mark before walking over it without concern.
"It's nothing."
"Nothing?"
"The gardener probably came this way."
Hena stared at him in disbelief.
"The gardener climbed onto a second-floor balcony?"
His jaw tightened.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"No, but I'm giving it anyway."
The servants exchanged nervous glances.
Was she trying to get herself fired?
Dariel stepped closer until only inches separated them.
His gray eyes were colder than ice.
"You've been here less than a day."
"And already someone has been frightened in your house."
His expression darkened.
"Be careful, Miss Prat."
"I always am."
For several seconds they stood there, locked in a silent battle neither wanted to lose.
Finally, Dariel looked away.
"Mrs. Brooks."
"Yes, Young Master?"
"Take my grandmother to her room."
Grandmother?
Hena looked at the elderly woman with surprise.
So this was Lady Eleanor Black—the matriarch of one of the wealthiest families in the country.
Mrs. Brooks gently led the frightened woman away.
The servants quickly dispersed.
Soon only Dariel and Hena remained.
"You should go to bed," he said.
"You should call the police."
"There is no need."
"There was an intruder."
"There wasn't."
"You just ignored the evidence."
"I said there wasn't."
His tone left no room for discussion.
But Hena wasn't one to back down.
"Are you hiding something?"
Dariel's eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me."
He let out a slow breath before speaking.
"Curiosity gets people into trouble."
"So does silence."
Without another word, Dariel turned and walked away.
Hena watched him disappear into the darkness.
He wasn't afraid.
He was hiding something.
And whatever it was...
It had terrified his own grandmother.
---
The following morning, the mansion buzzed with quiet whispers.
Every servant seemed anxious.
Every conversation stopped the moment Lena entered the room.
She carried Noah's breakfast into the sunny dining room.
The little boy smiled when he saw her.
"You came back."
"I told you I would."
"I thought Dad would fire you."
"So did I."
Noah giggled.
It was a genuine laugh this time.
Across the room, Dariel looked up from the newspaper in front of him.
His son hadn't laughed like that in years.
He lowered the newspaper slowly.
Noah was actually talking.
Not answering questions.
Talking.
"What are we doing today?" Noah asked eagerly.
"I thought we'd build a treehouse."
His eyes widened.
"A real one?"
"A small one."
"I've never built anything before."
"Then today is your lucky day."
Dariel folded the newspaper.
"No."
Both of them looked toward him.
"No climbing trees."
"But Dad—"
"I said no."
Noah's smile disappeared instantly.
The room became painfully quiet.
Hena looked from father to son.
"May I ask why?"
Dariel's gaze hardened.
"No."
"Children should explore."
"I make the rules."
"And sometimes rules need to change."
Mrs. Brooks silently closed her eyes.
She couldn't believe Hena had challenged him again.
Dariel stood.
"You seem to forget your position."
"No."
"I am Noah's nanny."
"My responsibility is to care for him."
"Caring for him also means helping him enjoy his childhood."
For the first time in years...
Someone was questioning Dariel's parenting.
His expression remained unreadable.
"You think you know my son?"
"I think I know loneliness when I see it."
Those words struck deeper than Hena intended.
Dariel's face became unreadable.
Without another word, he left the dining room.
The sound of the closing door echoed throughout the mansion.
Noah sighed.
"I made him angry."
"No."
Hena smiled gently.
"I did."
"Will he fire you now?"
She winked.
"Probably."
Noah laughed again.
---
Later that afternoon, Hena wandered through the estate gardens while Noah played nearby.
The Black estate was enormous.
Beautiful flowers bloomed beside perfectly trimmed hedges.
A sparkling lake reflected the afternoon sun.
Yet despite its beauty...
Something felt wrong.
She noticed a narrow path leading toward the woods behind the mansion.
It looked abandoned.
Curiosity tugged at her.
She followed it.
After several minutes, she reached an old stone gazebo hidden beneath climbing ivy.
The structure looked decades old.
As she stepped inside, she noticed strange carvings etched into one of the pillars.
They weren't decorative.
They looked like initials.
D.B. + E.W.
Below them...
Another line had been carved much later.
Love Buried Here Never Dies.
Hena frowned.
Who had written that?
A sudden crunch of leaves behind her made her spin around.
No one.
Only silence.
Then she heard footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone was definitely there.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
She took another step.
The footsteps stopped.
Her heart pounded.
Another gust of wind swept through the trees.
And then...
She saw him.
A tall man dressed entirely in black stood among the trees, his face hidden beneath the shadow of a hood.
He wasn't moving.
He was watching her.
Every instinct screamed at her to run.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
The stranger remained silent.
Then, without warning...
He turned and disappeared deeper into the forest.
Hena ran after him.
Branches whipped against her arms as she pushed through the trees.
She caught brief glimpses of the black figure ahead.
He was fast.
Far too fast.
Suddenly—
The ground beneath her feet gave way.
"Ah!"
She slipped down a muddy slope, tumbling into a shallow ravine.
Pain shot through her ankle.
She tried to stand.
She couldn't.
The stranger was gone.
Only silence remained.
Minutes passed.
Then she heard another set of footsteps.
Someone was approaching.
A familiar voice called out sharply.
"Hena!"
Dariel.
He climbed down the slope with surprising agility.
"What on earth were you thinking?" he demanded.
"I saw someone."
"I told you to stay away from these woods."
"So you knew someone comes here?"
"I said nothing of the sort."
He crouched beside her.
"Can you stand?"
She tried.
A sharp pain shot through her ankle.
"No."
Without another word, Dariel slipped one arm behind her back and another beneath her knees.
Before she could protest...
He lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
Hena froze.
His heartbeat was steady.
His grip was firm yet unexpectedly careful.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Dariel looked down at her.
"You never listen."
She met his gaze.
"And you never tell the truth."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Not anger.
Not annoyance.
Something far more dangerous.
For the first time since they had met...
DarieBlack realized that Lena Hart wasn't just another employee.
She was becoming a problem.
Because every secret she uncovered brought her one step closer to the truth...
And the truth was something he had sworn no one would ever discover.
- Writer
