I Faked My Infection To Survive the Manor

Veronica stared into space for a long moment before looking at me, her expression hard as steel. "We have to get out of here. Now."

"Where would we go?" I scribbled on my notepad.

"The main house. To my father," she said, pacing the room. "He has to know about this. He's the only one with the power and resources to stop this."

I thought of the way the maids had looked at me, a cold dread washing over me. "But what if they notice we're gone?"

"It's a better option than sitting here waiting to die," Veronica shot back, stopping to look me in the eye. "Ava, we don't have a choice. If we stay here, they'll figure us out sooner or later. And when they do..."

She didn't have to finish.

We waited until the dead of night, until we were sure everyone was asleep, before slipping out of the tower. We ran across the manicured lawns to the main house. Veronica led me through long, silent corridors to her father’s private study.

A golden line of light shone from under the door. Mr. Alistair Vanderhorn was still awake.

Veronica took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter," a tired voice called from within.

We pushed the door open. The room was thick with cigar smoke. Alistair sat behind a massive desk, buried in ledgers and paperwork. He frowned when he saw us.

"Veronica? You're supposed to be in the tower, reflecting on your mistakes. Why are you here?" His voice was cold, displeased. "And you," he said, his gaze shifting to me, "a servant. Who gave you permission to enter my study?"

Just then, a man standing in the corner of the room took a step forward. He was tall, dressed in a sharp black suit. It was Ethan, the head of security. When he saw my face, his eyebrows twitched in surprise.

"You..." he said under his breath.

Alistair waved a dismissive hand. "Go back to where you belong. I don't have time for this nonsense."

Veronica didn't have time to explain. She surged forward, pretending to straighten her father's collar. Before he could react, she yanked his shirt open, exposing his neck and chest.

"Veronica! What in God's name are you doing?" Alistair roared.

"Thank God..." Veronica stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. "It's still you."

Ethan had already moved, his hand inside his suit jacket, ready to neutralize a threat. But Alistair held up a hand, stopping him. He stared at his daughter, the anger in his eyes slowly melting into weary resignation.

"Fine," he sighed. "Tell me what's going on."

"I found something in the tower... something strange..." Veronica began, then hesitated, glancing nervously at Ethan.

"You can speak freely," Alistair said, noticing her apprehension. "He's one of us."

Veronica took a deep breath and told him everything. The strange behavior of the maids, the parasitic fungus, the way it spread, and the terrifying truth we'd uncovered in the dressing room that afternoon.

"All of them, Father," her voice trembled. "Everyone in the tower except for me and Ava. They're all controlled by those... things. They look human, but they're just puppets."

A dead silence fell over the room. Alistair listened without expression, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the desk. Ethan stood by, his gaze shifting between Veronica and me.

After a long moment, Alistair finally spoke. His words sent a chill down my spine.

"Everything you've just told me," he said calmly, "I already know."