Chapter 8

ELEANOR

I was jolted awake by a knock. It was still dark outside, the room heavy with silence except for the persistent rapping on the door. Groaning, I turned over, pulling the pillow over my head. Maybe if I ignored it long enough, whoever it was would go away. But the knocking continued, steady and unrelenting. I blinked at the time on the bedside clock—who could it be by 4 a.m?

I sat up, my mind immediately going to Armando. But no… it couldn’t be him. He’d made it clear last night that knocking wasn’t something he did—especially not in his own house.

Sighing heavily, I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the door, hoping this wasn’t some twisted game he was playing. I opened it to find one of the housemaids standing there, her head bowed slightly in a polite greeting.

“Good morning, Miss Eleanor,” she said, her voice soft but formal. She held up a neatly folded maid uniform with both hands, offering it to me like it was some kind of gift. “Mr. Armando instructed me to bri