The thunderous pounding of fists against the door tore Dydra from sleep. Her heart lurched as she shut upright, the remnants of her dreams scattering like smoke.
"I'll be out in a minute!" she called, her voice sharper than intended. The pounding ceased, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Though the room was dim, familiarity guided her movements as she gathered what she needed and hurried out. She bathed at the stream, dressed quickly, and twisted her thick red hair into a rough bun. Adjusting the loose sleeve of her oversized dress, she began her morning routine — tending to horses, watering the garden, and running errands until her body ached with routine. Breakfast come afterwards: two slices of bread and half a glass of milk. She ate quickly beneath an oak tree some distance from the mansion, her gaze wandering until she spotted the Master's carriage rolling away, Agatha standing beside it and waving. Her eyes softened, and Agatha's whispered instructions from the previous night surfaced in her mind.
Once she was certain she was unobserved, Dydra left the oak tree and slipped toward the back of the mansion. Her boots barely made a sound against the clean wooden floors as she entered. Every sense sharpened, she moved swiftly up the stairs and down a corridor that ended with a single door. Facing the staircase, she stepped backward until her shoulders met the wood. She raised her hand and knocked softly. Moments later, Agatha's voice answered from within.
"Come in."
Dydra turned the knob and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. Agatha, seated by the windows still in her nightgown, sprang to her feet and crossed the room with the eagerness of a child greeting a long-awaited gift. Her arms wrapped around Dydra in a warm embrace, which Dydra returned instinctively. Pulling back, Agatha tapped her lightly on the head.
"Didn't I tell you to bring a scarf?" she scolded. Dydra scratched the back of her head, smiling sheepishly as her gaze wandered the room in awe.
A grand chandelier of wrought iron and crystal hung over head, scattering a gentle glow across the chamber. The Master's bed, vast and imposing with carved oak posts, dominated the space without overwhelming it. Red velvet curtains framed the tall windows, their folds embroidered with gold thread. An open wardrobe revealed gowns of silks and brocade in deep, rare hues, while the dressing table bore silver-backed brushes crystal vials of perfume and powders nestled in gilded boxes.
Every detail spoke of luxury, status,and masterful craftsmanship. Though she had been here several times before, Dydra still found herself breathless at the sight.
"Go take a bath in the washroom," Agatha said, pulling her from her trance.
Dydra obeyed quietly, marveling once again at the prepared bath and scent of fine soaps. She shed her worn clothes and sank into the warm water, loosening her hair and letting the tension drain from her body.
After several minutes — and persistent calls from Agatha — Dydra emerged, wrapped in towels. She stepped back into the room and gasped softly.
Dresses lay spread across the Master's bed, while Agatha arranged hair ornaments at the dressing table.
"Ma—Mother," Dydra corrected herself, could, confusion colouring her voice. "What is going on? I thought you were only tending to my hair?"
Agatha smiled without turning. She explained how she had secretly taken Dydra's measurements using a maid of similar build with the seamstress last visited, how she had noticed Dydra admiring her dresses before, and how she had decided that her daughter deserved beautiful things too — things no one else needed to know about. When Agatha turned and winked, Dydra felt warmth flood her chest. Tears welled as she crossed the room and sat before the mirror, gratitude racing through her veins. Agatha squealed with delight as she dried Dydra's hair, her hands gentle and reverent.
Agatha had never been able to bear another child after her first pregnancy twenty years earlier. The physician's words had been merciless — another pregnancy would kill her. The loss of that possibility had hollowed her, especially her longing for a female child she could nurture, adorn, and love.
That grief lingered until the day, eighteen years ago, she found a strange infant alone in a forest crib while visiting her late mother. She still remembered the child's cries, her mother's shocked gasp, and the certainly in the old woman's vive when she said the child must be raised.
Against all reason, against all fears, Agatha had taken the baby into her arms, soothed her tears, and claimed her as her own — never knowing then how deeply that choice would entwine their lives.
Eighteen years before
Agatha, her mother, and baby Dydra returned to Thelmond mansion that same day. Jerry was away on a business trip. Agatha immediately instructed the maids to prepare a room for the newest addition to the family. Her son, Jeremiah Junior, bounced with excitement upon hearing that he had a baby sister. That evening, the entire family gathered around the fireplace, watching Dydra lying peacefully in the crib her som once used as an infant. No matter what the babay did, it brought smiles to their faces.
A wee later, Jerry returned home, his face filled with awe when he heard the sound of a baby's giggle. He followed the sound to his room, were he found his wife facing the window, laughing softly.
"Honey, I have returned," he announced, his heart racing as Agatha turned around, revealing the baby in her arms. His pleasant smile flattered, replaced by a grim expression when his gaze locked onto the child. By now, traves of hair had began to show on Dydra's head. Hue eyes narrowed as he saw the vibrant red hair and the radiant dark skin. His heart pounded in his chest as the ocean blue eyes met his.
An image of a house burning flashed through his mind, and his expression grew even colder, more distant.
"Where did you get that?" he asked through clenched teeth. Agatha's excitement melted away, replaced by a deep sense of unease. She hesitated, wondering if her husband was angry.
"You wouldn't believe it, but—" she began, but was quickly cut off by him.
"Get that thing out! Get it out of my room! GET IT OUT OF MY HOME!" His voice thundered through the room, and Agatha's eyes widened in shock. Her body trembled as she stood frozen, unable to react. This side of Jerry was something she had never witnessed before.