Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Just wait. You’ll crack.”
But days turned into weeks, and Aisha did not crack. She didn’t just survive—she anticipated. Olivia’s coffee was always at the perfect temperature, her dresses steamed before she asked, her shoes polished to a mirror shine.
Richard began to notice. “She’s been here over a month,” he remarked one evening. “That’s… a record.”
Olivia waved her hand dismissively. “She’s tolerable—for now.”
What Olivia didn’t know was that Aisha was quietly learning everything about her—her moods, her habits, even the nights she left the mansion under the excuse of “charity events.”
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