The estate didn’t feel like it had reset.
It felt like it was holding its breath.
Elize noticed it in the smallest details first—not because she was looking for change, but because the house no longer moved with the same confidence around her.
Doors opened slower.
Not mechanically. Deliberately.
Footsteps faded before reaching intersections.
Staff members altered direction half a second too early whenever she entered a corridor, as though someone had quietly rewritten proximity rules overnight.
Even the lighting felt different.
Softer in some areas. Sharper in others.
Observation systems were still active.
But they were no longer behaving predictably.
Recalibration wasn’t silent.
It was organized withdrawal.
And that was worse.
Because withdrawal meant uncertainty.
The estat
