Mysterious Note

|BLAKELY POV

The maids were rushing through the hallways, their footsteps almost silent on the thick carpets. Pots and pans clanged in the kitchen, blending with the hiss of simmering sauces. One maid hurried by with a tray of polished silverware, while another folded napkins into perfect triangles.

The dining room’s tall windows let in the fading light, casting a warm glow over the long mahogany table. The chandelier above made the crystal glasses sparkle, and a maid adjusted the vase of freshly cut roses in the center.

“Careful with the candlesticks,” Mrs. Wilkins, the head housekeeper, told a young maid, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Once satisfied, she moved on to check the rest of the preparations.

In the grand hall, more maids polished the marble floors, making sure everything shone for dinner. The rich smell of roasted meat and herbs filled the air as the meal neared.

As the clock inched closer to seven, the pace picked up. Dishes were carried from the kitchen, steaming hot. Just as the first course was about to be served, the front door creaked open.

"I'm back, bitches," I announced as I stepped inside. "Had a rough day, so I hope dinner’s good, Mrs. Wilkins."

Right on cue, she appeared at my side, awkwardly holding a pile of folded sheets against her chest. Gross.

"Welcome back, Miss Blakely," she said with a slight bow.

I eyed the sheets. "What are those for? Hope they’re not mine. You can’t just carry my laundry around like that—it’ll pick up more germs than it had to begin with. And come around the front—don’t make me twist my neck."

She quickly moved to stand in front of me, her bob bouncing slightly. "No, Miss. These aren’t yours. They’re Madame’s. She asked me to take them to the maids' laundry room, but I saw you arrive and wanted to welcome you."

I squinted at her for a second, but it sounded believable.

"Fine. Is Enzo here yet?"

"No, Miss."

That bastard.

I forced a smile. "You can go."

---

Upstairs, my room was finally quiet. Someone had cleaned it up. The soft green light from the evening sun filtered through the plants by the window, making the space feel calm. I tossed my bag onto the bed and walked past the Stray Kids posters covering my walls. Their faces were so familiar now, they’d almost blended into the room.

I sat at my vanity, eyes catching on the photo cards stuck around the mirror. It was a mess of pictures of Han, Seungmin, and Felix, some random notes, and a few Polaroids from the DominATE tour in Chicago. Chaos, but mine.

After a moment, I pulled myself together, showered, and got dressed. I chose the dress with the prettiest shade of green, tied a bow in my hair, and added a little makeup before heading back downstairs.

When I walked into the dining room, I stopped. Way more people were there than I’d expected. Strangers, chatting like they’d been coming here for weeks. And then I saw her.

Rachel. Of course. It wouldn’t be a proper family gathering without her, would it?

Our eyes met for a second before she went back to picking at her pasta like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

It was, though.

“I thought this dinner was supposed to be family only, Mum,” I said, sitting beside her and trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice. I waved a maid over to serve me, doing my best to avoid looking at Rachel.

“Oh, Betty, they’re family too,” my mother said with a smile, barely glancing at me before turning back to her conversation. Typical. She paid more attention to these strangers than she did to me. And she called me Betty—short for Elizabeth, my middle name—when she wanted people to think she was the greatest mother.

Family, huh? Right. I sighed and pulled the wine bottle closer, filling my glass just as the maid brought my plate. That’s when I noticed it—a small, red folded paper sitting neatly beside my plate. The edges were covered in glitter, looking almost festive. Was it Christmas already?

“What’s this?” I asked, nodding toward the note.

“Oh, that arrived for you earlier today," the maid said. "Madame asked us to leave it here since you’d all be at dinner."

I picked it up, my fingers brushing the glittery edges. A note? Did I have a secret admirer? Not surprising.

I unfolded it, my eyes catching the little green hearts drawn at the top. The handwriting was so perfect it could pass as a font. But the message? Not what I was expecting.

You just fucking had to kill him, didn’t you?You fucking deranged bitch. You owe me. Happy holidays, by the way. Tide.

Asshole. He had a twisted sense of humor. The fact that he actually signed his name this time was also weird. I’d been getting these notes every other day since Marcus died. People loved him—way more than just his charm or his body. I guess that was something I’d have to remember.

“What’s that?” Blanche asked, sliding into the chair next to me like she owned the place. She grabbed a plate and waved over the maid, completely unbothered.

“Your name is weird. Worry about that and leave me alone,” I muttered, crumpling the note in my hand and handing it to the maid. “Burn this.”

“Yes, Miss,” she said, taking it and disappearing into the background.

Blanche scoffed, loud and unladylike. “What? Another death threat for killing lover boy Marcus?” she whispered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Are you drunk?”

“You should try getting drunk too. At least it’s better than killing my best friend. He did nothing to you,” she snapped, her eyes cold.

I gave her a tight smile, my patience wearing thin. “Yeah, he was fun. But I never liked him. Now shut up—you’ve got a pea stuck in your teeth, Blanche. It’s gross. Don’t talk to me.”

Her face flushed with anger, and she pushed her chair back with a loud scrape, drawing everyone’s attention. “Screw you. I hope you die in your sleep,” she spat, flipping me off before stumbling away, her steps unsteady. She looked like she’d either just had sex or finished off a bottle of wine. Maybe both.

Bitch.