Chapter 3: Haunted Schemes and Hidden Names

In my second year in the East Wing, the haunted house and cooling room were built. A little side hustle to keep things interesting.

A guy wandered into the cold east wing, poking around: “Whoa! What’s hidden here?”

I rolled my eyes: “This is the East Wing.”

He just smirked: “Then why doesn’t the main house have a single bird?”

I was about to answer when Mariah’s voice rang out: “Miss! The Queen Bee’s here to stir up trouble!”

“So rude.”

The guy cursed softly, leapt onto a beam, and vanished. Like Batman—if Batman wore track pants. I had to stifle a laugh.

I looked up and laughed. Some people just can’t resist the drama.

Mariah ran in, confused: “Miss, what are you laughing at?”

I calmly patted her head. “Nothing, Mariah. Just the usual circus.”

I saw the Queen Bee in the main hall.

She and her sidekick sat in my chair, sipping my prized tea. The nerve.

Mariah muttered: “That’s the tea I made for Miss.”

Queen Bee: ...

Since forever, the brainy and the brawny never get along. Her dad’s the current mayor, mine was the general. By all logic, she ought to come for me.

Mariah glared at her cup like it was a bomb. I stared at the hand holding the cup, feeling unexpectedly soft inside. The girl in the chair was stunning—an untamed, aggressive beauty, nothing like her older sister.

The Queen Bee tapped her cup, pretending to play with her nails. Her sidekick piped up: “Are you Miss Bennett?”

Sidekick: “You made that haunted room? Our lady says if it’s boring, she’ll have it torn down!”

Mariah shot back: “If it’s boring, why not try it yourself?”

Queen Bee put down her teacup: “Fine, let’s try!”

Some girls storm in, but crawl out sobbing. The haunted house is no joke—Mariah and I made sure of that.

The Queen Bee choked, threatening to tear down the haunted house. I smiled sweetly. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Anyway, Savannah’s footing the bill. Oh, and her long-suffering fiancé. It’s a team effort.

The Queen Bee didn’t get her way.

Because Harrison showed up in full suit, just off a board meeting, and swept into the main hall, a crowd trailing behind. He looked every inch the Fortune 500 exec. But with a little more bite.

“Miss Bennett.” He sat at the head, voice low and commanding. “The general has requested a transfer back to the city.”

Mr. Evans poured tea. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

Mariah knelt half a step behind me, muttering: “I just made fresh tea for Miss!”

Harrison ignored her and continued: “What do you think?”

“Sir, the northern counties are restless, and the rival families are getting bold. My father shouldn’t—and can’t—come back now.”

Harrison smiled and lifted my chin. There was a pause, a beat of tension before he spoke: “Oh? You really think so, Jamie?”

I looked up, sweet as sugar, and said gently: “Sir, my name isn’t Jamie. It’s Lila Bennett.”

Harrison stormed out, entourage in tow. The doors slammed behind him, echoing down the hall.

Mariah happily planned to brew more tea: “Was he just here to save face?”

Savannah slipped in, collapsed on my shoulder, and cried. “We got caught running a side hustle in the house, Miss, what do we do?”

Mariah handed her a tissue. “What else? Ride the wave, grab the spotlight, cash in!”

Savannah was totally lost. She’d never been one for breaking the rules.

Savannah went to call her fiancé.

With the boss distracted, we promoted ourselves in the house. The Lady of the House watched for a while, unsure what to do.

She called me to her parlor, where I dazzled her with a pitch. I sold her on the haunted house, the cooling room, and maybe even the pistachio club.

When I left, she called after me: “Miss Bennett, why do some people come out of your haunted room sobbing, while others just choke up?”

“It’s a haunted house, ma’am. Some folks are scared of ghosts, some aren’t.” I smiled. “If you’re curious, you can try it too.”

She seemed thoughtful. I could see the gears turning behind her eyes.

Soon after, she showed up at the East Wing with only a couple of staff. When she arrived, Savannah was gossiping: “Last time Mariah slipped up and said our boss actually likes someone!”

Mariah: “Whoa!”

Savannah: “He’s had a secret crush for ages—so sweet!”

Mariah: “No way!”

I listened quietly, pistachios suddenly tasteless.

“The guest is at the door and you’re still slacking?” I sent Mariah to greet the Lady, rolling up my sleeves. “Mariah really tells you everything.”

Savannah blushed: “He’s my childhood sweetheart, after all.”

Poor girl. She really couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

Savannah nudged me: “Miss, I told you all this juicy stuff, shouldn’t you share something?”

I said, “I’m just here to snack—not to cook.”

Savannah looked confused, about to say more when Mariah came back: “I’ve got gossip! I know the mayor’s and general’s families used to be in-laws!”

This girl, always spilling the beans. I shook my head, trying not to laugh.

In the third year in the East Wing, Mariah and I lacked nothing, Savannah’s standard of living soared, and even the orange cat turned into a bowling ball. We were a little family, if you squinted.

In front of the main hall, Savannah sat with us, cracking pistachios: “They come dozens of times a year. How do they never get bored?”

Mariah: “Maybe the girls here have strong self-control and are always improving themselves.” She said it with a straight face, but I could see the twinkle in her eye.

As we spoke, the Queen Bee strutted out of the haunted house, shooting us a cold glare.

I smiled at her. A silly, pampered deer—so entertaining.

Queen Bee lifted her chin: “The general’s coming back to court.”

I was quiet a moment: “Is that so?”

The next day, the Lady sent word: “The general’s returned to court.”

Savannah also told me: “Miss, my fiancé says—the general’s back.”

I was opening the fourth fortune cookie, poker-faced.

Beside me, Mariah spit out a slip: “Miss, this one’s different.”

I leaned in. It read: “All is well, don’t worry.”

Savannah showed up at the East Wing with her suitcase, running into the Queen Bee with eight boxes.

Savannah: “Proposing?”

Queen Bee frowned. “You here for shelter too?”

As they talked, the Lady arrived in plain clothes with her assistant, blocked at the East Wing door.

Lady: “What’s all this?”

Mariah: “Three wait for one—mahjong?”

Behind her, I hugged the cat and looked at the trio.

Savannah had all her stuff. Queen Bee had eight boxes of gifts... er, clothes and jewelry. The Lady traveled light, dressed as a staffer.

I thought: “Mariah’s right. Time to open a mahjong room.”

The East Wing was cramped, so I brought everyone to the main hall.

The Lady asked the Queen Bee: “Why are you here?”

Queen Bee: “My dad sent me.”

Queen Bee turned to Savannah: “How do you get news so fast?”

Savannah: “My fiancé told me.”

The other two: “Fiancé?”

Savannah: “Oops, slipped.”

The Lady patted her chest, exasperated: “Good thing Harrison doesn’t care about the house, or else... you!”

Queen Bee waved her hand: “Watch it! Only we don’t care. If someone else hears, who knows what’ll happen!”

Savannah: “What crime? My heart’s with my fiancé, but my body’s in this house.”

The Lady froze, Queen Bee cursed. I facepalmed. This is a little too modern, even for me.

Mariah was loving the drama. I nudged her: “Go find them a place to crash, they’re giving me a headache.”

Queen Bee and Savannah left with Mariah. I asked the Lady: “Why’d you come?”

She smiled: “It’s safe here.”

I blinked. What?

“I happened to see him, here.” Her eyes were complicated. “Don’t worry, only I know this secret.”

Ah, that.

I was confused. What secret?

The coup was both dramatic and silent.