Chapter 2: The Morning Audit
The estate gates remained bolted through dawn, a rare breach of protocol that sent a tremor of panic through the morning staff. By six o'clock, the cavernous service corridors were humming with frantic whispers. Rumors spread like wildfire among the maids and footmen: Julian Vance had locked down the entire property; the eastern security logs were missing; Richard Vance was furious.
I stood before the massive mahogany desk in the private study, my knuckles still tender, my maid's apron starched and crisp enough to cut skin. My reflection stared back at me from the dark, polished wood of the desk—pale skin, bruised cheek carefully masked beneath a thick layer of theatrical foundation that Arthur the butler had quietly slipped into my locker.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Richard Vance stepped inside. At sixty, Richard wore his wealth like a suit of armor, his silver hair slicked back, his pale blue eyes sharp and calculating. He didn't look like an uncle; he looked like an overlord who viewed the estate and everyone inside it as private property.
“Clara,” Richard purred, walking slowly toward me with his hands clasped behind his back. “I hear you've been causing quite a stir with my nephew. Complaining about domestic hazards, are we? Slipping on pantry shelves?”
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my chin up, remembering Julian's fierce promise in the kitchen the night before. “I wasn't complaining, Mr. Vance. I was answering a direct question.”
Richard stopped inches from me. The smell of scotch and pipe tobacco rolled off him in a suffocating wave. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Listen to me very carefully, girl. You are a paid servant in this house. Your family in the valley owes half a million dollars to the Vance Foundation. One word out of line from you, and I call the notes in today. Do you understand what happens to your mother's medical clinic if I do that?”
Before I could choke out an answer, the study door banged open against the wall with a resounding crash.
“Back away from her, Richard.”
Julian stood in the doorway, his black suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie slightly loosened, but his expression was colder than absolute zero. He strode into the room, placing himself physically between his uncle and me. The air in the study instantly thickened with domestic warfare.
“Julian,” Richard recovered quickly, smoothing his lapel with a thin, greasy smile. “I was merely reminding our staff of their duties. The girl lacks discipline. She's been spreading hysterical fabrications about last night.”
“Hysterical fabrications?” Julian echoed smoothly, his eyes narrowing as he slid a tablet onto the mahogany desk. “That's funny. Because I spent the last three hours reviewing the East Wing hallway cameras from yesterday evening. The ones you ordered the night watchman to wipe.”
Richard's smile faltered for a fraction of a second—a microscopic micro-expression that didn't escape Julian or me.
“The servers experienced a glitch,” Richard said stiffly, his voice losing its oily cadence.
“No glitch,” Julian replied, stepping closer to his uncle until they were eye-to-eye. “Just missing data files and a restricted access badge belonging to you entering the staff quarters after midnight. Effective immediately, Richard, you are barred from the East Wing and the service quarters. If you so much as look at a staff member again, I won't just lock the gates—I'll lock you out of the board entirely.”
Richard's face drained of color, replaced instantly by a dark, murderous flush. He glared past Julian at me, his eyes promising absolute ruin, before turning on his heel and storming out of the study.
Julian didn't watch him leave. He turned to me, his intense gaze softening just enough to let the human being show through the armor. He lifted a hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently brushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind my ear, avoiding the bruised skin with infinite care.
“Are you alright?” Julian asked quietly.
May you like
“Yes, Mr. Vance,” I whispered, trembling from the sheer magnitude of what had just been unleashed.
“Good,” Julian said, his hand dropping back to his side. “Because we've only just begun.”
