Echoes in the Halls

Elena’s POV

The sun spilled gently through the tall windows of the Thornhill mansion, casting golden streaks over the polished floorboards. Elena moved quietly, a dusting cloth in hand, her movements as fluid as the hush of morning.

Victor had already left for his early business brunch, trusting her to manage the morning errands alone. She liked this time of day—the house still, the air clean, and the weight of judgmental stares momentarily lifted.

Her steps were careful on the marble, respectful of a place that still didn’t feel hers. The dining room had been dusted, the vases refilled with fresh lilies, and now she stood in the grand hallway holding a small stack of books Victor had finished reading.

“Return them to the library before noon,” he’d said earlier, slipping on his cufflinks. “And take the Hemingway with you. You’ll like it.”

With the books pressed tightly to her chest, Elena walked through the ornate double doors that led into the Thornhill library—an impressive room lined with towering shelves and old charm. The scent of wood, aged paper, and something vaguely citrusy always lingered there.

She wasn’t expecting anyone else to be there.

But someone was.

Luca Thornhill. Perched casually in the sunken corner by the window, legs stretched out on a low ottoman, barefoot, wearing nothing but grey joggers and a black t-shirt.

Her heart stammered.

He didn’t move. Didn’t even lift his eyes.

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” she murmured, freezing halfway to the desk.

Luca turned a page. “You say that every time you walk into a room.”

His voice was smooth but laced with sarcasm.

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You already did.” He finally looked up, and those glacier- eyes met hers like a slap of cold water.

Elena straightened slightly. She didn’t want to show fear—but the way he stared at her, like she was some strange object out of place in his home, made her feel… small. No, exposed.

“Sir Victor asked me to return these,” she said, holding up the stack like a shield.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Of course he did. You’re good at following orders.”

There was no way to respond to that.

She walked toward the desk in silence, placing the books down with care. Her hand brushed the spine of the Hemingway Victor told her to read. She didn’t move to take it. Not with Luca watching.

“Do you even read Hemingway, Elena?” he asked suddenly.

She blinked. “I… I read what I can.”

“Huh.”

She expected him to mock her. To say something cruel. But instead, he closed the paper in his hands and set it aside.

“You’re not like the others he brings around,” he said slowly. “But that doesn’t mean you’re better.”

That stunned her more than an insult might’ve.

“I never said I was.”

Their eyes locked again.

It lasted too long.

Then he stood, brushing past her with a quiet kind of warning in his posture. As he walked out, she heard him say over his shoulder, almost too low to catch:

“Careful with him. He gets attached.”

---

Lucas’s POV

He wasn’t sure why he said that. Hell, he wasn’t sure why he was still thinking about her.

Elena.

The name sounded delicate. Pretty. Too soft for someone with eyes like that—eyes that didn’t match the timid way she spoke. Eyes that held stories.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped into the hallway. Something about her unsettled him. Maybe it was the way she seemed to float around the house like she didn’t belong yet refused to disappear.

Victor had no business bringing someone like her here. And yet… here she was.

Everywhere.

He hated that she made him curious. Because curiosity was a dangerous thing in this family.

---

Damien’s POV

The study door slammed shut behind him. “This is insane.”

Victor Thornhill didn’t even glance up from his desk. “Good morning to you too, Damien.”

“You can’t be serious about her.”

Victor folded his hands. “She’s efficient, polite, intelligent—”

“She’s a stranger!” Damien’s voice rose. “You let some girl you barely know into our home like it’s nothing, like we’re some open charity—”

“She’s not here to impress you,” Victor snapped, standing.

They faced each other across the room, father and son. Both powerful in posture, though Victor’s calmness felt heavier than Damien’s heat.

“She’s changing things,” Damien said through clenched teeth. “The staff talk about her. Lucas can’t stop glaring at her. And you—you treat her like she’s some long-lost confidant.”

Victor exhaled slowly. “You think I brought her here by accident?”

“I think you’re too lonely to see straight,” Damien fired back.

That landed deeper than intended.

Victor’s face hardened. “You’ve spent years too busy with your empire to remember I still breathe. Now you’re angry that someone else does?”

The silence was thick.

Damien turned away, jaw tight. “Just don’t expect us to sit back and let her... replace

everything.”

Victor’s voice was a whisper. “She isn’t replacing anyone. She’s just the first person in a long time who looks at me without expecting something.”

Damien left the study without another word.

---

Elena’s POV

That evening, Elena sat in the staff kitchen, fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea, her mind still spinning from the morning.