He drops in on the “control room” which is little more than a glorified night watch desk.It’s situated directly in the centre of the Estate; well positioned yet poorly equipped.Good bones, bad armour.Itseems to be a theme.
After two hours, Lachlan has mapped it out in his head.
The North Wing exists to display the weight of Penhalyx wealth and legacy.Paintings valuable enough to require their own insurance policies line the walls beside glass cabinets of untouched heirlooms and carefully lit artefacts no one is permitted to handle.Guests are clearly guided through it when access is granted.It’s the most aesthetically impressive section of the Estate, and the least lived in.
Lachlan names it,November Sky.
The West Wing belongs entirely to Penhalyx.A vast ballroom sits at its centre beneath a glass-domed ceiling, obscenely opulent even by the Estate’s standards.Bathrooms, service kitchens and private lounges ring the surrounding corridors, all positioned to support hosting on a massive scale.Beyond them lie the business spaces, meeting rooms, reception suites, negotiation chambers, carefully designed places for entertaining people powerful enough to require their own architecture.Penhalyx’s private suite, two hallways down from his office, remains strictly off limits, though Lachlan studies the section from the corridor anyway, counting windows, exits and sightlines, learning the outline of a man he still hasn’t met.Clara made it clear he’s permitted to perform alignment checks on the doors to those rooms but nothing beyond that.
He names it,Whiskey Reach.
The South Wing is the functional heart of the Estate, busy at all hours.Kitchens run twenty-four hours a day with the discipline of engine rooms, while the medical suites resemble compact private hospitals complete with dental offices and advanced treatment rooms.Beyond them are the staff quarters, laundry, maintenance corridors, storage and disposal, the unseen machinery keeping the entire place alive.Tucked along the outer edges are quieter luxuries requiring constant upkeep when occupied, saunas, spa rooms, private therapy suites.Even here, in the working heart of the Estate, the same oppressive palette dominates the walls and ceilings, dark green and deep brown swallowing the light.
He names it,Sierra Forge.
The East Wing belongs to the children.From the outside it maintains the same severe elegance as the rest of the Estate, dark stone, towering windows, the illusion of perfect formality, but inside there’s a softness Lachlan hasn’t encountered elsewhere.Signs of life.Colour.Muted sounds behind closed doors.Each wing is structured across three floors.A private stairwell anchors the floors, mirrored in every wing of the Estate.Lachlan thinks of it as a cove, tucked deep into the safest part of the house, obscured from easy access and difficult to approach unseen.Deliberate consideration went into their residence here.It’s very much lived in.
This wing he names,Echo Bay.
As he explores, committing the layout to memory, he finds a smaller kitchen, a functional library, a tutor room arranged for daily lessons, and several playrooms.The bedrooms are empty, so he goes inside.All three are adjoining, two sharing a bathroom.The first belongs to the little girl, the next to Julian, the last to whichever childminder is on duty.The third room is impersonal, hotel-neat.Julian’s is light and spacious, passively blue all throughout.The girl’s is a riot of colour, pink, purple, orange, aquamarine, more plush toys than Lachlan has ever seen, and dozens of books crowded around a fairy-castle tent.Here he clocks more security than anywhere else.The windows are alarmed, CCTV is heavier here, cameras in every corner of the ceiling except for the bedrooms.Ventilation is controlled.Julian’s room has two doors, one through the shared bathroom to Jessamine’s and another to the corridor, both lockable.
There’s nothing left to do but meet them.
In truth, Lachlan has been putting it off.
He doesn’t reallylikekids, but a job is a job, and this is the most money he’s ever potentially seen.He can do this.He’s a professional.
The noise of the only permanent residents of the Penhalyx Estate comes from one of the playrooms.The door is open, but he knocks anyway.
Two women are inside, childminders by the casual uniform.Their posture is relaxed and friendly.‘I’m Lachlan,’ he tells them, attention now swivelled onto the seventeen-year-old boy who has a three-year-old in his arms.
It won’t ever swivel away again.
The boy wears a look of anticipatory dread almost completely masked by hostile disgust.‘Look, Mimi,’ Julian Penhalyx whispers to the small child.‘It’s the bad manbodyguard.’
?
The existing security is atrocious.
He’s seen worse and the Estate does have potential just by siting position and clearance radius alone, but whoever was in charge before clearly had no clue how to safeguard or didn’t want to offend Penhalyx by making suggestions.Lachlan will need bodies.Manpower.People he trusts.
His new devices are clearly monitored, but he’s permitted to contact people outside the Estate and he will soon.He has someone in mind he wants for his secondary, but he won’t reach out yet.The first two weeks of anything is make or break, so he locks in to learn and adapt.
Lachlan uses his expense account to pay a small chunk of the family medical debt outright over the phone on his second day and no one comments.The contract made no mention of what he’s not allowed to decide is anecessary expense.He texts Margot from his new phone, and then a few others, Jolene Mercer and Priscilla Carrigan among them.
Margot asks him by text if they agreed to the amendments.
He doesn’t answer.
Seven days go by, and it’s not a good first week.
Mimi is absolutely terrified of him.She freezes up whenever Lachlan comes into the room, eyes wide, bottom lip trembling, reaching for her brother if he’s close by or whichever of her nannies is there.
Mimi Penhalyx has three of them.
Most times she bursts into tears whenever she sees Lachlan and her brother will level Lachlan with the most baleful look a seventeen-year-old can muster.It doesn’t take long to realise why his contract referred to Julian as an asset for “management”.The kid absolutely despises authority and is plainly miserable.
During the day, he’s fairly manageable.
