Ella
The Black house ran on discipline the way other families ran on emotion.
By eight o’clock sharp, the corridors softened into silence, no raised voices, no careless laughter, no footsteps heavy enough to echo.
It wasn’t written anywhere, not carved into stone or framed on the walls, yet everyone obeyed it without question.
Habit had turned into instinct. By nine, doors were closed, lights dimmed, and the house sank into a carefully maintained stillness.
Tonight, that stillness felt false.
Everyone retreated to their rooms as usual, but no one truly rested. I could sense it, even without seeing them, the tension humming through the walls like an electric current.
People were listening, waiting and wondering.
All of them knew what Kane had drunk.
All of them were waiting to h
