I was finding it harder and harder to bear moments when I couldn't see her.
On screen, Mother walked into the collection room. She stopped beside Noelle, saying something. Though there was no sound, I could see Noelle listening intently, nodding occasionally.
Then Mother did something that surprised me—she reached out and lightly patted Noelle's shoulder.
Brief, gentle, but significant.
Mother rarely showed such warmth. She was a woman who kept her emotions deeply buried, maintaining severity even with Anya and me.
But now, she'd actually initiated physical contact with Noelle.
That iron-willed woman, whom even I had to respect, was showing approval instead of scrutiny when facing Noelle.
What kind of power did this woman have?
How did she do it?
I stared at that slender figure on screen, feeling something churn and expand in my chest, almost breaking through my ribs.
Just watching her through surveillance wasn't enough anymore. I needed to be closer.
I needed—
"Fuck." I cursed under my breath, slammed the computer shut, and stormed out of the study.
Over the next few days, I prowled my own manor like a stalker.
I knew her daily routine. Two fixed hours in the collection room each afternoon, curled up by the library fireplace reading travel magazines in the evening, and helped Mother prune those prized roses in the greenhouse when weather permitted.
I tracked all her movements.
Then, like a ghost, I'd hide in shadows, secretly watching her.
It was sick, I knew. But I couldn't control myself.
This afternoon, I stood in the shadowed colonnade outside the greenhouse, watching the two figures inside. Mother was pruning a blooming red rose while Noelle handed her tools. Sunlight streamed through the glass dome, casting her in a soft halo. She wore a simple beige sweater dress, hair loosely pinned up, exposing her slender neck.
"This branch is too dense, it'll affect airflow," Mother said, efficiently cutting off a half-opened bud.
Noelle caught the rose, placing it in the bamboo basket beside her. "Isn't it a shame to cut such a beautiful flower?"
"Keeping it would be the real shame." Mother didn't look up. "Sometimes sacrificing things that seem beautiful makes the whole more perfect. It's the art of balance."
"I understand."
"You're smart, Noelle." Mother set down her shears, turning to look at her. "Much smarter than I expected."
Noelle seemed a bit embarrassed. "You're too kind."
"I never say empty words. Your work in the collection room has been excellent—the ledgers are organized perfectly. Even I can't find fault."
"Thank you for giving me this opportunity."
"This isn't an opportunity. It's what you've earned. You proved your abilities."
I leaned against the stone pillar, watching this woman who held her own before Mother, my heartbeat gradually accelerating.
She'd actually won Mother's approval.
