And Arthur kept testing her. A gold watch left carelessly on a table. A half-open drawer with bank envelopes inside. A phone abandoned beside the sofa, its screen glowing with messages.

A stack of confidential documents placed where she couldn’t avoid seeing them. Maya touched none of it.

But the tests grew stranger as the days passed. One afternoon she entered the study to collect an untouched lunch tray and found Arthur asleep on the leather sofa—or at least pretending to be.

His breathing was too controlled, his arm positioned too deliberately, a book lying open on his chest, though his fingers weren’t relaxed. Maya knew instantly he was watching her.

Mrs. Gordon’s warning echoed in her mind—the wealthy don’t trust anyone who looks too kind too quickly. On the desk, in plain sight, lay an envelope thick with cash, and beside it, a silver key.

The forbidden room. So this was the real test. For a moment, the house seemed to hold its breath.