Episode 6

The weeping sky of New York was a pleasant surprise for me. I genuinely thought yesterday would have rained. The light rain showers felt like home, a home I hadn't visited in a long time.

That reminded me I had to visit my parent's house tomorrow.

Fucking hell.

The House of Kings was a big ass house with rooms that could take me years to count and hallways that i could get lost in. Which was scarier than anything.

But its most beautiful feature would have to be the full-length window facing the busy roads of New York City. The yellow-orange color was spread everywhere though from where I was watching it felt more like tiny dots.

"I heard about today, Ms. Morgan." The same rich voice that haunted my dreams somehow came to life. I knew who it belongs to. And I wasn't sure why I knew it so well.

But I was more nervous than curious today. I had refused to obey the demands of the Prince of this house.

Should I say goodbye now?

But Alex seemed fine.

But he could be hurting and didn't show it to guilt-trip me.

Oh lord, a heavy feeling reeled into my chest as I thought of hurting that four-year-old boy.

I turned around quickly, facing my boss and ready to listen to whatever he was saying.

If he yells, don't cry. I mentally prepped myself.

"I am extremely sorry, Mr. King. It won't happen again, I promise, just give me another chance" I apologized as soon as I met his deep blue eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Pray tell Ms. Morgan, what did you do this time to beg me for another chance?"

Oh, this brute. I couldn't even say anything as I needed the money he provided.

Beg? Oh, I will show him what's begging.

But also he was... teasing me.

"I... what do you mean?" I asked in confusion as I didn't find any trace of anger on his face which was relieving but also baffling.

"I was trying to praise you for your quick thinking with Alex but you have apparently committed a sin, for which you are extremely sorry." He mocked me, his eyebrows wiggling and a teasing smirk was gracing his pink lips.

"You are not mad?" I asked.

Why wasn't he mad? I refused his only son the toy he wanted and that was the kid I was supposed to care about. They were rich, they had money, they were rich, why wasn't he mad?

He shook his head. "For not giving into Alex's demands? No, I am not Ms. Morgan, I am quite happy in fact that you stood your ground and didn't even yell at him."

He did look happy, also impressed but the question still stood high.

"Why aren't you mad?"

"Why will I be mad?"

"I disrespected your son." I pointed out.

"You did what any nanny should have done in your place, so I will ask again, why will I be mad?"

'You guys are rich!" I exclaimed. "Like Richie Rich, and Alex asked for a stupid toy that you can easily afford."

I was childish at that point but I was trying to make myself clear, he was rich, he should be angry that I refused his son anything.

"Just because I can afford it doesn't mean that I should buy it, Alex realized that the car wasn't important, it was a momentary lapse of judgment."

My jaw could have been on the ground and I wouldn't have been surprised.

He realized I wasn't going to talk anytime soon because he continued. "You seem surprised."

"I... am," I trailed off, I was surprised but he didn't need to know that.

"Why?" He seemed genuinely curious. I opened my mouth to answer, I wasn't even sure what I would have said but the thunderstorm cut me off, making me realize where I was, and who I was talking to. Our worlds were different. They were poles apart, trying to understand his world was dangerous. It was a bloody call for death.

"It's stupid." I shrugged. "But it's raining heavily, I have to go home now." I pointed towards the full-length window behind me which was facing the hallway leading to Alex's room.

The hallways were lit up, but this side of the hallway was quiet, calming. It gave me a sense of peace as I stood there and listened to the angry growls of the clouds.

"It's raining pretty heavily, I will drop you off." Mr. King said as he adjusted his watch and looked me dead in the eyes, his eyes were commanding, his shoulders stiffened and ready to start a war if I said no.

"Oh no, it's fine, I already told a friend to pick me up." I lied, I didn't. All I did was booked an Uber and was waiting for the damn driver to call me to confirm.

"If you haven't noticed Ms. Morgan, I wasn't really asking. I am going to drop you off, that's final."

I bit my lips, suddenly feeling a bit exposed and vulnerable as his eyes watching me like a hawk, as if he knew what I was thinking as if he knew what I was feeling.

"And hardly count Uber drivers as friends Ms. Morgan." He smirked.

♚

I'll leave my window open

'Cause I'm too tired tonight to call your name

Just know I'm right here hoping

That you'll come in with the rain

Taylor's voice echoed through the 250 GTO of Mr. King, the car was one of the most expensive cars designed in the world, and I was sitting on it. The black shining vehicle was looking odd in the road, the road where the plain old Honda, Nissan, Toyota, and Chevrolet were riding. It almost felt offending. But that was just another reminder that Mr. King and I were living in different worlds.

"You have a nice voice." Mr. King commented. I wasn't realising I was humming along with the song playing on the radio. I missed the old Taylor Swift, the one who had a childlike nature, the one who was naive, and innocent but also brutally gaslighted and trolled. Just like every bold, young, powerful woman in this world.

Mr. King's compliment, however, made me do something I hadn't done in a long time.

I blushed. I blushed like a teenager getting her first compliment. I fucking blushed.

I quickly moved my face towards the window, pretending that I was admiring the rain-sacked roads. "Thanks, it's nothing special."

Mr. King just gave me an unimpressed nod. "Is it now?"

"Alright I am trying to be humble, I know I have an amazing voice." I joked and I saw the brute cracking a smile at me. Fuck his lips looked so sweet, so soft.

"Are you teaching my son to be a liar, Ms. Morgan?" He jested, his eyes meeting mine.

I gasped in face shock. "I will never do that, Mr. King. I will teach him to commit arson."

"With the way he was growing up, I doubt he needs any teaching for that."

"My ego is hurt, are you trying to say a four-year-old is better at committing arson than me?" I asked, feigning offense.

"I am just believing in my son." He shrugged and a smirk was dancing across the ends of his lips.

"In committing arson."

"In committing arson." He confirmed.

There was silence for ten whole seconds before we both burst into laughter. His laugh was deep, manly almost as if it was dipped into testosterone, okay no that was a weird thought. But the idea was clear, he had a deep and dark voice, rich and powerful.

"Ah, I needed it today, thank you." He said. His tone did justify how grateful he was. And I was too.

"Your most welcome, sir," I pretended to lift my imaginary hat. "But to be fair, I also needed it today, so thanks to you too."

"Anytime milady." He said with a fake British accent that immediately made us burst into another fit of laughter.

Suddenly I saw a familiar building on the left side of the road, making me realize that I was close to my apartment. I quickly pointed to the building. "Right there, that's my apartment."

Surprisingly the rain started slowing down, the wind was still strong and icy cold, but the flow of rain was now much less.

Mr. King swiftly entered the driveway and parked into one of the free spaces. He removed his seat belt, and got out of the car, and opened my door for me. "We are here milady."

"Thank you, Mr. King, for the door and the ride." I smiled at him gratefully, with rain pouring down on us and a safe and secure shelter just a few feet away from us, we both were looking like idiots.

"The pleasure is all mine." He smiled.

"You can't just give me a ride in your 250 GTO and say the pleasure is all yours."

His eyes shot up in shock. "You know this car model?"

His voice was laced with astonishment.

"Hard not to." I smiled at him and looked at the car behind us. "Ferrari 250 GTO, Designed by Giotto Bizzarrini and Sergio Scaglietti Curb weighed one thousand, nine hundred forty to two thousand ninety-four pounds with a 2-door Berlinetta body style."

To say Mr. King was shocked would be an understatement. His mouth was open and his eyes widened though it was getting droopy with the rain.

"How do you know that?" He stammered. I chuckled lightly as I slowly approached the entrance of the Emerald Green, an apartment that was just outside of the hustle and bustle of New York City and was aesthetic for the cheap price I got it for.

Me. King followed behind me. As I stopped at the main door, just where I could see the beige-colored reception table.

"I have many talents, Mr. King." I teased him as I turned towards him. His hair was wet from the rain, his white shirt clinging to him like a second skin and I could see the outline of his abs from here.

Flashes of when I gave him the interview while he was half-naked and pranked me came into my mind. A slow smile appeared on my face.

"Oh yes, I am aware, arson is one of them." He laughed and I joined with him. "And call me Arthur."

"I-"

"I am not asking right now either, Ms. Morgan."

"Then you have to call me Skylar." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Sky." He smirked at me.

Oh fuck, why was I feeling so high right now?

-

Well, I came down from that high pretty quickly.

The Morgan Cottage was a vintage house. A small cottage with plants all around them. The light streamed down on the frail building.

Once upon a time, it was lit up with laughter and joy, the house was built to have a new start. What a shame all it brought to me was nightmares and scars.

Katherine and Jonathan Morgan were too busy drinking their souls away to notice that the house they built for their small family was withering away.

They forgot that their own misery was affecting their child, their only living child.

I sighed. I had waited for years for the memories to fade away when it wouldn't hurt me as they were now.

But the years just brought more pain to cater to.

I turned the knob of the door and pushed through.

Dust.

So much dust.

That was the first thing I noticed. The entire floor was painted with a dark layer of dust. The spider webs decorating the corners of the living room while the fireplace was cold as ice. The entire house felt cold.

Cold like ice. So cold that it hurt to even stay a second longer here.

The fights that broke here. The cutlery that was shattered here. The yelling, the screaming. It was always here. In the living room because that was where they could access each other faster.

There was a room, a room for them. Perfectly seating on the second floor, not even a scratch was there.

The fights were too common, even my young adolescent senses caught up with the drama.

Mama cheated, Papa knew about it.

Their insults were becoming too dull to listen.

She was a whore, he was a slouch in bed.

But none of them involved me. Their teen daughter trying to distract herself with loud music.

They never even cared that I was there. That I existed. The only way they were parents to me was by educating me.

But that also went downhill pretty quickly.

I took a few more steps into the room, my sandals meeting with the dirt on the floor. And the floor creaking because of my weight.

The house must have been built with passion, love, at least that was what I told myself, but now it was nothing but a haunted house. But the ghosts here were too real to catch in cameras and by ghost hunters.

The house was nothing but a box of scars packed with the ribbon of my inheritance after my dear parents were dead.

Well, they were dead to me for a long time anyway.