His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

The worn leather of the armchair in Felix’s study had probably absorbed more stories than I’d read in my lifetime. I ran my feather duster over its plush curves, sending dust mates swirling in the sunbeams. Whenever I saw this, dust highlighted by the sun. I’d always think back to Mrs. Walter’s eighth grade science lecture about the tyndall effect,

Cleaning Felix’s space was always a balancing act – respecting his privacy while ensuring the room sparkled like a well–cut diamond. In his study, he didn’t keep much. Some books. Journals. Many old journals. They were inside a locked cabinet. 1 had seen him locking the cabinets once. No one was allowed to touch those. I was just here to vacuum and dust the surfaces,

My dusting feather snagged on something tucked between the cushions. A leather wallet, worn but not shabby, pulsed with the unmistakable hum of wealth. My heart jolted – Felix’s wallet. No wonder 1 hadn’t seen it on the side table for weeks.

His office was two floors up. I knocked, waited, then knocked again. The only reply was the silence. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Felix sat behind his desk, typing away furiously at his laptop. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the intrusion. “Can I help you, Flora?”

“I found this in your study, I held out the wallet, feeling oddly vulnerable under his scrutiny, and oddly unwanted in this room. Lately, . he had taken to working from his home office more often. Sometimes, he had meetings here.

He shot out a hand, snatched the wallet, and tucked it into his desk drawer without a glance. “Thanks”

His curt dismissal hit me like a slap. The warmth I’d felt at finding his lost treasure evaporated, replaced by a chill that crawled down my spine. I stood there, tongue–tied. I had thought he would speak to me. Maybe we could have exchanged some polite greetings.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, his gaze licking back to the paperwork as if I were an inconvenience, an intruder.

My voice, when it emerged, was barely a whisper. “No, Mr. Corsino, Just wanted to return what’s yours.”

I turned to leave, the echo of my own footsteps sounding like accusations in the cavernous office. The sting of hurt, sharp and unexpected, refused to dissipate.

Why was he being like this?

The realization hit me like a brick. He was mad at me. For not telling him the truth that night. I hadn’t even seen him since, and it had been three days. I had thought he was just busy and we hadn’t crossed paths, but he was deliberately avoiding me.

The knowledge of that hurt. But I had things to do. I busied myself around the house. 1 made myself some lunch and ate it quietly in a corner. Ever since I had moved here, I hadn’t seen Felix. Or Linda. Even Liam. I had had a quiet few days, except meeting with Tommy and going dress shopping with Lexi that day. But it was nice and had given me time to settle in. I had cleaned the room thoroughly. I had unpacked, I had put up my few things on the walls a picture of me with my mom, a picture with Tommy, one with Lexi

My shift was almost done, and I decided to sit on the porch for a while to get some fresh air. Just as I sat down, my phone buzzed with texts.

The evening air was brisk as I stared down at my phone, the screen casting an eerie glow on my face. A series of text messages frogs–an unfamiliar number left my hands trembling, the threatening words reverberating in my mind. I bit my lip, desperately trying to hold back the fear that threatened

to consume me.

Dad

His texts were short, sharp blades, to the point:

“Come home, Flora. Don’t make me come get you.”

“Felix can I protect you forever.”

“Remember what happens when you disobey.”

I stared at the flickering screen, then typed, deleting, typing

g again. Finally: “Leave me alone.”

The phone stayed silent, the wasp subdued. But the buzzing fingered in my bones, a chilling reminder of the needed to escape the claustrophobic silence.

danger t

stalked me. I needed air,

My boots crunched on the gravel path, my breath puffing white against the chill air. It was supposed to be a peaceful walk, a solitary communion with nature to calm myself down after reading the

threatening texts from Dad.

He was planning something. I could feel it. He was even using a new number, probably a burner phone,

As I rounded a bend, a flash of

white c

caught my eye, tucked beneath a fallen ook leaf,

Curious, I bent down, the leaf crackling in my hand as I peeled it back. A crumpled receipt emerged, the ink faded but still legible. My throat tightened as I read the words: “Thunderbolt Arms & Ammo. Purchaser: Liam Blackwood.”

My breath hitched. Liam had bought… a gun? Why in the world would he need a gun? My mind reeled, with possibilities. Did he get caught up in some bad debt? Was he being threatened? Was he in trouble? Was he the trouble? My stomach churned with a cocktail of worry and concern.

Why would he need to buy a gun? I knew for a fact all the security personnel had guns of their own. And other weapons. This Was a maña family, after

all.

The image of Liam’s mischievous grin, his sweet demeanor, our friendly companionship, clashed horribly with the grim reality of a gun purchase.

The crisp air felt suffocating. Should I confront him? Tell Felix? Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

Torn between concern and caution, I clutched the receipt in my pocket, its crumpled edges digging into my palm like an accusation. Should I keep it safe, a silent observer of Elam’s possible secret, or

act as a shield, stepping into the line of fire of whatever trouble he might be courting?

With a sigh, I tucked the receipt deeper into my pocket, its presence a burning ember against my skin. It was an unwanted burden, a knot of responsibility I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle. But something, some sliver of concern, same echo of that conversation I had overheard, wouldn’t let me ignore it.

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