Chapter 5: The First Confrontation
I didn't wait for the senior housekeeper to finish her lecture. I stepped past the door frame, my leather-soled shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. The sound made both women jump. The housekeeper spun around, her face flushing crimson as she recognized the man in the tailored black suit and trench coat.
"Mr. Vance," the housekeeper stammered, smoothing down her apron with trembling hands. "This area is restricted. Guests aren't permitted—"
"I think your definition of permitted is about to change, Mrs. Gable," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. I walked past her without glancing at the blonde girl, stopping a few feet from the desk where a ring of brass keys hung from a magnetic hook.
Mrs. Gable bristled, trying to regain her professional dignity. "This is private property. If you have a complaint about the service, you should take it up with Mrs. Sterling in the ballroom."
"Mrs. Sterling is currently busy pretending to be a philanthropist downstairs," I replied, turning my gaze fully onto the older woman. "While down here, her staff is being systematically abused and threatened. I saw the crop, Mrs. Gable. I saw what's happening in this house. And more importantly, I know about the ledger on the third floor."
The housekeeper’s face drained of color. She glanced toward Clara, who had stepped into the doorway behind me, and a look of pure venom crossed the older woman's features.
"You've been talking too much, girl," Mrs. Gable hissed at Clara.
"She hasn't said a word," I stepped between them, my height and broad shoulders effectively cutting off the housekeeper's line of sight. "I figured it out myself. People like Victoria leave tracks, Mrs. Gable. They assume no one is paying attention because everyone is too dazzled by the gold paint. But I am paying attention."
"You can't prove anything," the housekeeper said, though her voice lacked conviction now. "Mrs. Sterling has friends in the district attorney's office. She has influence. You cross her, and you'll find yourself tied up in lawsuits that will drain every penny you have."
"Let her try," I said coldly. I reached out, lifted the heavy ring of brass keys from the magnetic hook, and slipped it into my coat pocket. Mrs. Gable gasped, taking a half-step forward, but she stopped when she met my gaze. "I'm taking these. And Clara is coming with me. If I hear so much as a whisper of security being called while we clear her things from the staff quarters, I won't just hand that ledger over to the police—I'll leak every financial wire transfer from this estate to the national press before midnight."
The housekeeper stood frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She knew the threat was real. Men like Victoria Sterling lived and died by their reputation, and a public financial audit was the one thing they couldn't bribe their way out of.
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"Come on, Clara," I said, turning back toward the corridor.
Clara gave Mrs. Gable one last, steady look, then followed me into the dim hallway. We walked quickly toward the service stairs, leaving the laundry room behind. The first battle was won, but as we began our silent climb toward the third floor to find the ledger, I knew the real war with Victoria Sterling was only just beginning.
