Chapter 7: The Service Elevator
The old service elevator groaned as its iron trellis gate clicked shut, sealing me inside the dim, oil-scented box. I pressed the worn brass button for the third floor, my fingers still damp from the mist outside the gardener's lodge. The car lurged upward with a metallic shudder, lifting me away from the damp earth and straight into the heart of the estate's polished silence. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each thud echoing loudly in the enclosed space. In my left arm, I clutched the cardboard box tightly against my black maid's dress, feeling the sharp edge of the manila envelope bite through the cardboard and press against my ribs. Inside that envelope were Clara's stolen wire transfer slips, proof of her systematic embezzlement from Julian's family foundation. But more than that, I held the small gold button with its delicate raised pattern—the silent token Julian had given me five years ago in this very house, before ambition and social standing built an unbridgeable chasm between us. The elevator cable screeched, slowing to a gentle stop as the brass indicator arrow clicked onto the master suite level. I slid the heavy gate open a mere inch, peering out into the darkened hallway where antique Persian runners muffled the sound of my footsteps. The air here smelled of expensive cedar, beeswax, and expensive perfume—Clara's signature scent lingering faintly in the draft. Every painting on the wall, every chandelier overhead, was a monument to wealth built on illusion. I slipped out of the shaft, keeping close to the wood-paneled walls, acutely aware that a single misstep would shatter the fragile equilibrium I had fought so hard to maintain for my daughter's sake. The master study door stood a few yards ahead, its dark mahogany panels reflecting the dim moonlight streaming through the tall arched windows. A sliver of warm light cut across the floor beneath the door, telling me Julian was still awake, drowning his restless nights in work while his empire crumbled from within. I crept forward, my breath caught in my throat, knowing that the confrontation I had avoided for years was now inevitable.
