By the end of week two, I'd fallen into a rhythm.
Classes in the morning. Campus IT job in the afternoon until 2 PM. Maybach pickup at 2:45. Three hours with Aurelia. Home by 7. Hrealise until midnight. Sleep. Repeat.
It was exhausting, but it was working.
My family's rent was paid. My tuition was covered. My mother had stopped crying every time the phone rang. My father had stopped looking at me like I was a disappointment.
And Aurelia was actually starting to seem like a person instead of an ice sculpture.
She still didn't do small talk. She still corrected me when I explained things inefficiently. She still treated emotions like they were bugs in her code that needed to be debugged and eliminated.
But she'd started asking me questions that had nothing to do with computer science.
Little things. Throwaway comments that she tried to make sound casual.
"What's it like living in a dorm?"
"Do you actually enjoy your classes, or are they just a means to an end?"
"Have you ever been to a party?"
I answered honestly, and she listened like she was taking notes for a research paper on Normal Human Experiences.
It was strange. But it was also kind of endearing.
Selene noticed.
She was home more often now. Always appearing at random times. Walking past the library door. Asking me to stop by her office after sessions. Watching.
She never said anything directly. But I could feel her attention like a weight on my shoulders.
The unspoken message was clear: I was being monitored.
And I needed to be careful.
---
Friday afternoon, week three, session eleven.
Aurelia was in a good mood.
I could tell because she actually smiled when I walked into the library. Not a big smile. Just a slight upturn of her lips that disappeared as quickly as it came.
But it was there.
"You're early," she said.
I checked my phone. 2:56 PM.
"Four minutes isn't early. It's punctual."
"It's early compared to most people's definition of 3 PM." She closed the book she'd been reading. "I have something to show you."
She turned her laptop toward me.
The screen showed a program she'd built. A machine learning model that analysed text sentiment and generated responses based on emotional context.
It was impressive. Really impressive.
"You built this in three days?" I asked.
"Two days. I finished it last night." She was trying to sound casual, but I could hear the pride underneath. "I used the neural network concepts you taught me and applied them to natural language processing. It's still rough, but it works."
I scrolled through the code. It was clean. Efficient. The kind of work that would've taken most of my classmates weeks to produce.
"This is good, Aurelia. Really good."
"You sound surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm impressed. There's a difference."
She looked down at her hands. "My mother saw it this morning. She said it was 'adequate.'"
"Adequate?"
"That's her version of praise." Aurelia's voice was flat. "Anything less than perfection is failure. Perfection is adequate. Excellence doesn't exist because there's always room for improvement."
I wanted to say something. Something about how that was an insane standard to hold anyone to, let alone your own daughter.
But before I could, the library door opened.
Selene walked in.
She was wearing a charcoal grey suit today. Her hair was down, falling in waves past her shoulders. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a magazine spread.
"Elias," she said. Her voice was warm. Too warm. "I didn't realise you were already here."
"I'm on time."
"Of course you are." She walked over to where Aurelia was sitting and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "How's the session going?"
"Fine," Aurelia said without looking up.
"Elias was just looking at my sentiment analysis program," she added.
"Oh?" Selene's eyes flicked to the laptop screen. "The one you were working on all night instead of sleeping?"
Aurelia stiffened. "I slept."
"Four hours isn't sleeping. It's napping with extra steps." Selene's hand tightened slightly on Aurelia's shoulder. "You need to take better care of yourself."
"I'm fine."
"You're exhausted. I can see it." Selene looked at me. "Elias, perhaps you could encourage her to maintain a healthier schedule? She listens to you more than she listens to me these days."
There was something sharp in the way she said it. Something that felt like a test.
"I'll mention it," I said carefully.
"Good." Selene's hand lingered on Aurelia's shoulder for another moment before she pulled away. "I have a conference call in ten minutes. Carry on."
She left as quickly as she'd arrived.
The moment the door closed, Aurelia let out a breath.
"She's watching you," she said quietly.
"I know."
"She's trying to figure out if you're a threat."
"A threat to what?"
Aurelia looked at me. "To her control. Over me. Over everything." She closed her laptop. "She doesn't trust anyone. Especially not people I like."
The word hung in the air between us.
Like.
"Do you?" I asked. "Like me?"
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "You're the first person who's ever treated me like I'm more than just my mother's daughter. So yes. I like you. As much as I'm capable of liking anyone."
"That's nothing."
"It's not enough either." She stood and walked over to the bookshelf. "But it's a start."
---
We worked until 5:30 PM.
By the end of the session, Aurelia's exhaustion was showing. She made small mistakes. Lost her train of thought mid-sentence. Rubbed her eyes like she was trying to physically push the tiredness away.
"We should stop," I said.
"We still have half an hour."
"You're too tired to absorb anything else today. We'll pick up on Monday."
She wanted to argue. I could see it in the way her jaw tightened. But instead, she just nodded.
"Fine. But I want to show you something first."
"What?"
"Come with me."
She led me out of the library, down the hallway, and up a flight of stairs I hadn't been up before. We walked past several closed doors until she stopped in front of one at the end of the hall.
She opened it.
Inside was her bedroom.
It was nothing like the rest of the house. Where everything else was cold and minimalist, her room was warm. Lived in. The walls were covered in bookshelves. Her desk was cluttered with notebooks, pens, and half-finished projects. There was a large window overlooking the back of the estate, and the late afternoon light spilt across the hardwood floor.
"This is my space," Aurelia said. "The only place in the house where my mother doesn't monitor everything."
"Why are you showing me?"
"Because I want you to understand something." She walked over to her desk and picked up a small leather journal. "I've been keeping this since I was fourteen. It's full of things I can't say out loud. Thoughts. Questions. Feelings I'm not supposed to have."
She held it out to me.
I didn't take it.
"You don't have to show me that," I said.
"I know. But I want to." She set the journal back down on the desk. "I've spent my entire life being told what to think, how to act, who to be. And I'm tired, Elias. I'm so tired of pretending I don't have questions. That I don't wonder what it's like to be normal."
"You are normal."
"No, I'm not. Normal people have friends. They go to school. They make mistakes and learn from them without someone cataloguing every failure." She crossed her arms. "You're the first person I've met who doesn't expect me to be perfect. And I don't know what to do with that."
I took a step toward her. "You don't have to do anything with it. Just be yourself."
"I don't know who that is."
"Then figure it out. You're smart enough to solve any problem you come across. Why should this be any different?"
She looked at me for a long moment. Then she laughed. It was quiet and a little sad, but it was genuine.
"You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple. But it's possible."
She smiled. A real smile this time. Not cautious or guarded. Just real.
"Thank you," she said softly.
---
I left her room feeling like I'd crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
Selene was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
She was leaning against the bannister, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.
"Elias," she said. "A word?"
"Of course."
She led me to her office. Closed the door behind us.
Then she turned to face me, and her expression was no longer unreadable. It was cold. Furious.
"What were you doing in my daughter's bedroom?"
"She wanted to show me something."
"Her bedroom is off limits. I thought I made that clear when you started."
"You said to stay in the library unless Aurelia requested otherwise. She requested otherwise."
Selene's jaw tightened. "Don't get smart with me."
"I'm not. I'm stating facts."
She stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell her perfume. Something floral and expensive and designed to be noticed.
"Let me be very clear, Elias. My daughter is starting to trust you. That's good for her education. But it's dangerous for you."
"How?"
"Because trust leads to attachment. And attachment leads to expectations. And when those expectations aren't met, people get hurt." Her voice dropped lower. "I won't let her get hurt."
"I'm not trying to hurt her."
"I know. But you will. Eventually." She reached out and straightened my collar. The gesture was casual. Almost maternal. But her eyes were anything but warm. "Everyone does."
Her hand lingered on my collar for a moment too long.
And that's when I felt it.
The shift.
The way her fingers brushed against my neck. The way her gaze dropped to my mouth for just a fraction of a second before flicking back up to my eyes.
It was subtle. So subtle I almost thought I'd imagined it.
But I hadn't.
"You should go," Selene said, stepping back. "Same time Monday."
"Right. Monday."
I left her office, my heart pounding in my chest for reasons I didn't want to examine too closely.
---
The weekend passed in a blur.
I tried to focus on homework. On my campus job. On anything that wasn't the memory of Selene's hand on my collar or the way Aurelia had smiled at me in her bedroom.
But my brain wouldn't cooperate.
Saturday night, I lay in my dorm bed staring at the ceiling while Jake snored in the bunk above me.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
**Unknown Number:** *This is Selene. I have your number from the background check. We need to discuss boundaries. Can you come to the estate tomorrow at 2 PM? Aurelia will be out.*
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the message for a full minute before typing back.
**Me:** *Is this about Friday?*
Her response came immediately.
**Selene:** *Yes. Don't make me wait.*
I didn't sleep that night.
---
Sunday at 2 PM, I stood outside the Rowan estate.
The Maybach hadn't picked me up this time. Selene had sent me the gate code and told me to take an Uber.
The house felt different without Aurelia in it. Emptier. Colder.
Selene opened the door before I could knock.
She was dressed casually today. Black jeans. A white silk blouse. Her hair was down. She looked younger. Less severe.
More dangerous.
"Come in," she said.
I followed her inside. She led me to the kitchen instead of her office.
"Coffee?" she asked.
"Sure."
She poured two cups from an expensive-looking espresso machine and handed one to me.
We stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island, the silence stretching between us.
"You're probably wondering why I asked you here," Selene said finally.
"You said something about boundaries."
"Yes. Boundaries." She took a sip of her coffee. "You're getting too close to Aurelia."
"I'm doing my job."
"You're doing more than your job. You're becoming her friend. Maybe more."
"She needs a friend."
"What she needs is structure. Guidance. Not someone who encourages her to question everything I've built for her."
"Maybe she should question it."
Selene's eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"
"She's eighteen. She's brilliant. And she's miserable. Maybe instead of controlling every aspect of her life, you should let her figure out who she wants to be."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" I set my coffee cup down. "I see the way she looks when she talks about you. Like she's terrified of disappointing you. Like her entire worth is tied to whether she meets your impossible standards."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
Selene stared at me. Then she laughed. It was a bitter sound.
"You think you understand her better than I do? You've known her for three weeks."
"And in three weeks, she's opened up more than she probably has in three years. Maybe that should tell you something."
Selene walked around the island. Slowly. Deliberately.
She stopped directly in front of me.
"You're brave," she said quietly. "Stupid, but brave."
"I'm just honest."
"Honesty is overrated." Her hand reached out. This time, it didn't stop at my collar. Her fingers traced along my jawline. Light. Testing. "You know what's not overrated?"
"What?"
"Knowing when to keep your mouth shut."
Her hand dropped.
But the damage was done.
I'd felt it again. That shift. That dangerous, undefined thing crackling in the air between us.
"I should go," I said.
"Yes," Selene said. "You should."
But neither of us moved.