The rain began early.
It tapped softly against the tall windows, steady and quiet, like fingers asking to be let in. Bly Manor felt colder today. Smaller. The air smelled of wet wood and something old that never truly left.
Kate stood in the kitchen, both hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She looked exhausted. Mrs. Grose moved beside her, wiping the counters the same way she always did—slow, careful, silent.
Then the phone rang.
The sound cut through the room like glass breaking.
Kate flinched. Mrs. Grose stopped moving.
Kate set her mug down and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Miss Mandell?" a man asked. "This is Mr. Albridge, headmaster of St. Thomas Academy. I'm calling about Miles Fairchild."
Kate straightened. "Yes?"
There was a pause. Too long.
"I'm afraid Miles has been expelled."
Kate's grip tightened. "Expelled?"
"There was an incident," the man continued. "A violent one. Miles attacked several students in the restroom. One boy was hospitalized. Broken bones. A fractured wrist."
Kate's breath caught. "What?"
"We've tried reaching the manor before," he said. "I felt it was important you knew."
Kate didn't answer right away. Then quietly, "Thank you for calling."
She hung up.
Mrs. Grose watched her. Waiting.
"That was his school," Kate said. Her voice sounded thin. "Miles was expelled. He hurt someone badly."
Mrs. Grose nodded once. "Yes."
Kate stared at her. "That's it? Yes?"
"He's always been troubled," Mrs. Grose said calmly. "Especially after the accident."
"He put someone in the hospital," Kate snapped.
Mrs. Grose said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Kate turned and left the kitchen.
Ivy sat on the floor of the sunroom with Flora, a deck of cards spread between them.
"I win again!" Flora laughed. "You're terrible at this."
"I'm being generous," Ivy said with a small smile.
Kate appeared in the doorway. Her face was pale.
"Ivy," she said, "can I talk to you?"
Flora frowned. "Is she in trouble?"
"No," Kate said quickly. "Just for a minute."
Ivy followed her into the hallway. The door closed.
"What's wrong?" Ivy asked.
Kate lowered her voice. "Miles was expelled from school."
Ivy blinked. "What?"
"He attacked some boys. One of them's in the hospital."
"That doesn't make sense," Ivy said. "He doesn't seem like—"
"You don't know him," Kate cut in gently. "Not really."
Ivy shook her head. "What if it was exaggerated? Or—"
"They had witnesses," Kate said. "Teachers pulled him off."
Ivy looked down. Her chest felt tight. "He's different here."
Kate touched her arm. "Ivy, please. Be careful."
Ivy nodded, though she wasn't sure why her heart resisted the warning.
That evening, they sat for tea in the dining room.
The rain had stopped, but the clouds hadn't moved.
Miles entered last. Calm. Clean. Unbothered.
He sat across from Kate and smiled faintly.
"So," he said lightly, "did the phone ring today?"
Kate froze.
Ivy's heart started pounding.
Miles turned his gaze to Ivy instead. "You look nervous."
Kate stood abruptly. "Excuse me."
She left the room.
Miles poured himself tea. His movements were slow, precise.
"She doesn't trust me," he said.
"She's worried," Ivy replied.
Miles lifted his cup, watching her over the rim. His eyes were darker now.
"That's wise," he said softly.
Ivy swallowed. "Why would you say that?"
His smile returned—small, controlled.
"Because," he said quietly, "people should always be afraid of what they don't understand."
The teacup clicked softly as he set it down.
And somewhere deep inside the house—
Something listened.