The Master's Summons

Reaching the end of the stairs, Alison walked to the dining area. The table was already set, and she frowned when she saw the food that had been prepared for breakfast: shrimp, salad, a turkey sandwich, and a cup of tea. The food looked perfect, but Alison was a vegetarian, and she couldn't eat any of it. Not wanting to trouble the staff, she simply sat down and decided to make do with just the salad and tea. Glancing around, she noticed the table had been set for one person, which meant she was alone. She relaxed slightly, relieved.

Alison sat at the grand dining table, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above. The room, though elegant, felt uninviting, the coldness of its opulence seeping into her bones. The untouched turkey sandwich and the half-eaten salad on her plate seemed to mock her. She wasn't hungry, but she couldn't quite bring herself to eat either. The emptiness in her stomach was matched only by the uneasy silence in the mansion.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. She glanced up to see a woman dressed in a crisp white uniform—a cook, she presumed. The woman's face was a blank canvas, betraying no emotion as she approached the table with practiced grace.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the cook said softly, her voice polite but distant. Alison noticed the way she glanced at the food, her gaze lingering on the untouched sandwich. "Pardon me for bothering, but I noticed you haven't touched your food."

Alison forced a smile, her mind racing for a polite excuse. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just that… I'm a vegetarian, and I—"

The cook's eyes widened in horror, her composure slipping for a moment. "Oh goodness, I'm so sorry!" Her voice was laced with genuine regret, and she seemed almost distraught by the mistake.

"It's okay—" Alison began, but the cook cut her off.

"No, it's not," she insisted, her tone firm and apologetic. "I must go prepare another dish for you, something that aligns with your vegetarian diet. My sincere apologies."

Alison's smile softened, touched by the woman's earnestness. "Really, it's okay. I'm fine with the salad. It's not a big deal."

The cook hesitated, her remorse still evident in her expression. She nodded slowly, though she seemed unconvinced. "I assure you, this will not happen again. Please, forgive the oversight."

"Of course," Alison replied gently. She could see the sincerity in the cook's eyes, but she also sensed something else—a lingering tension, perhaps even fear. It piqued her curiosity, and she decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

"If I may ask," Alison said, her voice casual but probing, "where is the owner of this mansion?"

The cook's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "He isn't home yet. He traveled for a business meeting yesterday."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Alison pressed, trying to keep her tone light.

The cook shook her head, her gaze dropping momentarily. "I'm not sure. He should be back soon, though. His meetings usually don't take too long."

Alison pursed her lips, tilting her head in thought. "Can you tell me more about him? I barely know him, and it would be nice to get some insight—what he's like, what he does for a living… things like that."

The cook fell silent, her eyes darting to the side as if considering her response carefully. When she finally spoke, her voice was guarded. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but even we, his staff, don't know much about him. He always keeps to himself."

Disappointment settled in Alison's chest, a dull ache that she quickly tried to hide. "Oh… okay. Thanks anyway."

"You're welcome," the cook replied, bowing slightly before turning to leave.

As Alison watched the cook walk away, she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't been told the whole truth. There was a certain reluctance in the woman's demeanor, a hesitance that spoke of more than just unfamiliarity with her employer. It felt like fear, and it only served to heighten Alison's unease.

She sighed, turning her gaze back to the now-cold food on her plate. The uneasy silence of the mansion seemed to close in around her again, and she felt a pang of loneliness in the pit of her stomach. She picked up her fork and took a small, half-hearted bite of the salad, but the food tasted like ash in her mouth. Her appetite was gone, consumed by the swirling thoughts and questions that had no easy answers.

After pushing the food around on her plate for a few more minutes, Alison finally gave up. She set down her fork, her mind made up. She needed a distraction, something to keep her from spiraling into the anxieties that were creeping up on her.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly typed a message: *Good morning,* she sent to Riley, Kaira, and Jayden. She knew it would be a while before they replied—Riley was probably deep into a video game, Kaira was likely at work, and Jayden… well, Jayden always seemed to be busy with something.

The silence in the dining room became oppressive, the empty plates on the table a testament to her unease. Alison decided it was time to leave. She stood up, the chair scraping softly against the marble floor, and headed for the stairs. The mansion's vastness loomed around her as she ascended, each step echoing in the quiet. The stillness felt like a weight pressing down on her, and she longed for something—anything—to break it.

When she reached her room, Alison paused for a moment, her hand on the door handle. She was about to turn the knob when she heard hurried footsteps behind her. She turned, seeing a young maid rushing toward her, her expression anxious.

"Is everything okay?" Alison asked, her voice tinged with concern.

The maid stopped a few feet away, straightening her posture as if trying to compose herself. "The master just came in," she said, her voice steady but urgent. "He sent for you. He's waiting downstairs."

Alison blinked, her mind momentarily going blank. "The master.… sent for me?"

"Yes," the maid confirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Now."

Alison's heart skipped a beat. "O-okay. I'll be down in a second."

The maid nodded curtly and left as quickly as she had come, leaving Alison standing there, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic mix of fear and anticipation. The man she had been dreading to meet was finally here, and he wanted to see her—right now.

She glanced back at her door, the safety of her room calling to her. For a brief moment, she considered retreating, locking herself inside, and pretending she hadn't heard the maid. But another part of her—the part that was tired of the uncertainty, the part that was curious about the man behind the mansion—urged her to go.

Taking a deep breath, she turned away from her door and began walking toward the staircase. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if invisible chains were holding her back. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears as she descended.

As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she caught a glimpse of him—just his feet at first, standing by the grand fireplace. The fire cast flickering shadows on the walls, the only source of warmth in the cold, imposing room. She took another step, her gaze slowly traveling up his body. She saw his legs, then his broad chest, and finally, his face came into view.

He was tall, his six-foot frame imposing but not overbearing. His presence filled the room, commanding attention without effort. His well-built physique was evident even beneath the tailored suit he wore, the dark fabric clinging to his form in a way that spoke of both power and control. He stood with his arms behind his back, his posture straight and confident, as if he belonged there—as if he owned not just the mansion, but the very air around them.

And then she saw his face. Her breath caught in her throat, her blood running cold. It was him.

Alison's fingers trembled, the phone slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor. The sound seemed distant, almost unreal, as she stood there, frozen in place. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, but all she could think of 'It- it's you?'

The man's gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable, and in that moment, the mansion seemed to close in around her. The walls, the floors, the very air—all of it seemed to press down on her, suffocating her in a mixture of fear and disbelief. And yet, beneath it all, there was something else—a spark of recognition, of something long forgotten but not lost.