Kathrine had been scheduled to visit Helmsworth International first thing in the morning. Instead, she found herself seated in the lavish living room of the Helmsworth mansion, a delicate porcelain cup of tea resting between her fingers and an array of neatly arranged snacks placed before her.
"Please enjoy, Miss Kathrine," the servant said politely before retreating in silence.
Kathrine offered a courteous smile, though the mont she was alone, the expression faded into sothing more observant. She adjusted slightly on the plush sofa, crossing one leg over the other as her gaze began to wander around the room.
She had been sitting there for quite so ti, and yet there was no sign of Marcus.
She knew the staff would have inford him the mont she arrived. The Helmsworth household did not operate without precision. Still, the old man had a habit of taking his ti, especially when he wanted to assert quiet authority. Making others wait was a subtle reminder of hierarchy.
Kathrine reached for her teacup and took a slow sip. The tea was perfectly brewed, neither too strong nor too mild. The warmth settled comfortably in her chest as her eyes continued to scan the space around her.
The mansion was undeniably luxurious. High ceilings stretched above her, adorned with intricate chandeliers that reflected soft golden light. The marble flooring glead, spotless and cold in appearance. Expensive artwork lined the walls, each piece carefully selected, each fra heavy and imposing.
And yet, despite all its grandeur, sothing felt missing.
Kathrine had never visited Ethan’s family ho before. She had seen photographs, heard descriptions, and built an image in her mind of what such wealth must look like. But now that she was here, she realized the house carried a stillness that was almost unsettling.
There were no vibrant colors to brighten the air. The palette was dominated by muted tones, deep browns, greys, and creams. Everything was elegant, but nothing felt alive.
It felt controlled. Restrained.
Lonely.
The house gave off the sa aura as its owner. Dignified, powerful, untouchable. Yet distant. As though warmth was considered a weakness here.
Kathrine took another sip of her tea, her lips curving slightly in quiet judgnt.
For a family that possessed so much influence and wealth, they certainly did not believe in comfort. The furniture was expensive but formal. The décor impressive but impersonal. It was a house designed to impress visitors, not to welco them.
She let her eyes travel toward the grand staircase visible from the living area. The polished banister reflected light like a mirror. Even the silence seed deliberate, heavy and controlled.
No laughter echoed through these halls. No casual clutter softened the edges of the space. Everything was placed with intention.
She imagined Ethan growing up here and wondered what that must have felt like. Surrounded by luxury, yet deprived of warmth. It explained more than she had expected.
Kathrine leaned back against the sofa, maintaining her composed exterior while her thoughts sharpened. A house often mirrored its master. And this mansion spoke of discipline, authority, and emotional distance.
Still, she had not co here to analyze architecture.
She had co with purpose.
Her fingers lightly tapped against the porcelain cup as impatience began to creep in. Making her wait was unnecessary. If Marcus intended to test her patience, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing irritation on her face.
She reached for a small pastry from the tray and took a controlled bite, careful not to disturb her poise. Even in solitude, she carried herself as though she were being observed.
Because in a house like this, she probably was.
Just as her thoughts began to wander again, the faint sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the hallway.
asured. Unhurried. Confident.
Kathrine’s posture straightened instantly.
The atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly, as though the house itself had acknowledged its master’s presence.
A mont later, Marcus Helmsworth entered the living room.
He moved with calm authority, his gaze sharp and assessing as it fell upon her. There was nothing rushed about him, nothing apologetic for the delay.
Kathrine placed her teacup gently back onto its saucer and rose to her feet with practiced grace.
"Mr. Helmsworth," she greeted, her tone respectful yet steady.
Marcus studied her for a brief second longer than necessary, as if evaluating not just her presence but also her composure.
"I hope you were comfortable," he said evenly.
Kathrine offered a polite smile. "Your staff has been very accommodating."
There was a subtle edge beneath her courtesy, one that suggested she had noticed the wait.
Marcus’s expression remained unreadable as he took a seat opposite her. The distance between them felt deliberate, almost strategic.
The eting had finally begun.
And whatever warmth the tea had provided monts ago quickly faded under the weight of his arrival.
"Before we begin, there is sothing I need to ask you."
Kathrine paused. Marcus’s face remained calm, composed as ever, but his eyes told a different story. They were not relaxed. There was caution in them, a quiet calculation that did not match the steady tone of his voice.
"Please go on," she replied smoothly. "If it is sothing related to our work, feel free to ask anything."
Her response was asured and professional, leaving no room for hesitation. She held his gaze without flinching.
Marcus studied her for a mont longer. His thoughts drifted to the question he had intended to ask, weighing whether now was the right ti. He had rehearsed it in his mind more than once, yet standing before her, he found himself reconsidering.
There was sothing about the way she carried herself. She looked composed, almost effortlessly calm, as though nothing could unsettle her. Not the grand setting. Not the deliberate delay. Not even the shift in his tone.
That cautious gaze hardened, shifting into sothing unmistakably serious.
"It is not about work," Marcus said slowly. "It is about Ethan."
The change was subtle but undeniable.
Kathrine’s composure faltered for the briefest second. The calm mask she had worn since his arrival thinned, her fingers tightening slightly against the fabric of her dress before she consciously relaxed them.
Marcus did not miss it.
"Did you tell him," he continued, his voice lower now, more direct, "about what happened to that day?"
The question lingered heavily between them.
Kathrine drew in a asured breath, buying herself a mont. Her eyes t his again, but this ti there was no professional distance in them. There was awareness.
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