Chapter 2 - The House of Broken Mirrors
By 9:00 p.m., the kitchen counters gleamed under the recessed lights, the dishes were washed and stacked, and the floor smelled faintly of lemon and pine.
Nora wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked out into the hallway. The mansion was eerily quiet now. The girls had retreated upstairs to the east wing, barricading themselves behind double oak doors. Jonathan had retreated to his third-floor office, swallowed whole by the demands of his billion-peso tech empire that seemed determined to run on autopilot while his personal life collapsed into ash.
Nora didn't leave. Instead, she walked to the pantry, opened the shelves, and took stock of the ingredients.
Using the handwritten list on the refrigerator as her sacred guide, she began to cook.
She sliced apples into precise, thin crescents for Cora and Mae. She whisked eggs over low heat with a pat of butter, ensuring not a single brown edge formed for June. She simmered chicken broth with garlic and fresh herbs for Ivy, and buttered thick slices of sourdough bread for Hazel and Brooke.
At 10:00 p.m., carrying a large silver tray laden with six small, perfectly prepared plates of comfort food, Nora climbed the grand staircase.
She walked down the long, carpeted corridor of the east wing until she reached the heavy double doors. A crudely taped sign hung from the brass handles: ENTER AND DIE.
Nora balanced the tray on one knee and knocked gently twice.
Silence from inside.
"I know you're awake," Nora said clearly through the wood. "And I know you haven't eaten a real meal in three days because the last nanny tried to feed you frozen fish sticks that tasted like cardboard."
The door clicked open about three inches. Hazel’s suspicious eyes peered out through the crack. Her gaze dropped instantly to the silver tray. The rich, buttery aroma of grilled cheese and warm chicken soup had leaked out into the hallway.
"What is that?" Hazel asked, her voice defensive, though her stomach let out a very audible, traitorous rumble.
"Suicide mission food," Nora replied calmly, pushing the door open just enough to slide the tray onto a small table near the entryway without forcing her way in. "Hazel, you like your crusts cut off. Brooke, your yogurt is in the fridge, but I brought you the strawberry one with no fruit chunks mixed in. Ivy, the crackers are separate so you can crumble them yourself. June, the eggs are soft."
Hazel stared at Nora, her defenses trembling for a fraction of a second. "How... how did you know?"
"Your mother left a map," Nora said simply. "She loved you all very much. She wouldn't want you starving yourselves just to punish the adults."
"She didn't want to leave us!" Hazel suddenly snapped, her voice cracking as hot, angry tears spilled over her eyelashes. The tough, cold exterior shattered instantly, revealing the terrified twelve-year-old child underneath. "She promised she would stay until we grew up! She lied!"
Before Hazel could slam the door, Nora stepped forward quickly and gently caught the edge of the wood, sliding past it into the room.
The bedroom was a chaotic war zone. Clothes were strewn everywhere, mattress stuffing billowed from a ripped seam on the twin bed, and the walls were covered in chaotic crayon drawings. The younger girls sat huddled on the floor in the center of the room like frightened birds.
Nora didn't lecture them. She didn't raise her voice. She walked over to the corner, sat down cross-legged on the floor right in front of little Lena, and picked up the armless doll.
"Hello there," Nora said in a soft, playful voice, making the doll wave its stubby shoulder. "My name is Button. I lost my arm in a great battle against the dust bunnies under the bed, but I'm still very brave."
Lena sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, and giggled softly.
"You can't stay here," Ivy muttered from the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. "The others lasted two days. The lady with the red hair lasted twelve hours before she called the police because Brooke put a live frog in her purse."
"I'm not the lady with the red hair," Nora said, looking around the room with deep, steady compassion. "I'm Nora. And I know what it feels like to lose someone you love so much that the whole world feels like it's burning down."
Hazel wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, glaring at Nora with lingering suspicion. "What do you mean? Who did you lose?"
"My little sister, Sofia," Nora said softly, the memory washing over her like cold water. "She was six. We shared a room. When the fire happened... I managed to get out, but she didn't. For a long time, I hated the world. I hated the firefighters for not being fast enough. I hated God. And most of all, I hated myself for surviving."
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating silence. Even the twins stopped fidgeting.
"Did you break things?" June asked in a small, trembling voice.
"I broke everything," Nora admitted, offering a sad, honest smile. "I broke plates, I screamed at teachers, I pushed away everyone who tried to love me. Because I thought if I let anyone in, I would forget what Sofia felt like." She reached out, gently placing her hand over Hazel’s clenched fist. "It's okay to be angry, Hazel. You have every right to be mad at the universe. But you don't have to burn your house down to prove it."
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Hazel looked down at Nora’s hand, then up into her eyes. The walls the twelve-year-old had spent six months constructing around her heart didn't crumble all at once, but for the first time, a hairline fracture appeared.
"The soup is getting cold," Nora said gently, standing up and dusting off her jeans. "Eat your dinner. I'll be downstairs if you need anything. And girls? Tomorrow, we start cleaning the living room. Together."
