The shift in the estate's hierarchy was tectonic. When Clara walked into the main kitchen that afternoon to get Mia’s favorite strawberry gelatin, the silence was deafening.

Mrs. Gable, a thin, bitter woman who had always made Clara scrub the worst floors, sneered. "Look at the new princess. You think sleeping in the clinic makes you special, Hayes? You’re still just the fat girl who cleans the baseboards."

Clara’s shoulders slumped instinctively. Years of bullying weighed on her. She reached for the fridge, keeping her eyes down. "I just need Mia's snack, Mrs. Gable."

"You don't touch the fridge without my permission!" Gable snapped, stepping into Clara's space.

"She doesn't need your permission."

The kitchen temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Silas Cross leaned against the doorframe, twirling a silver karambit knife between his scarred fingers. The entire kitchen staff froze in terror.

Silas walked over, grabbed the gelatin, and handed it to Clara. Then he looked at Mrs. Gable. "Pack your bags. The Boss wants you gone in ten minutes. If you're still on the property in eleven, I'll use you for target practice."

Clara walked out of the kitchen with her head held high, Silas trailing behind her like a lethal shadow.