Chapter 10: Dawn Interrogation
The first rays of pale morning light cut horizontally across the manicured lawn outside the estate, casting long, bruised shadows over the gravel driveway. Inside the large country kitchen, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife. Marcus sat at the head of the oak dining table, his suit jacket off, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. His face was a mask of cold fury, his dark eyes fixed unblinkingly on the small group of household staff standing in a ragged line before him.
"Someone accessed my private terminal last night during the gala," Marcus said, his voice terrifyingly quiet, devoid of the polished charm he used for the public. "Files were accessed. Data was transferred. And the security logs show an unauthorized physical entry into my study."
He stood up slowly, walking down the line of trembling cooks and maids, stopping right in front of me. His tall frame towered over me, but I kept my chin up, meeting his furious gaze with a steady, unblinking stare that I had practiced all night in front of the small mirror in my quarters. The flash drive containing every piece of evidence of his financial crimes was already hidden deep inside the lining of my spare uniform hung neatly in the staff locker downstairs.
"Was it you, Aria?" Marcus whispered, leaning in close enough that I could smell the stale scent of scotch and expensive cologne on his breath. "You’ve been asking a lot of questions since you arrived here. You think you’re smart, don't you?"
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"I was cleaning the second-floor service corridor all evening, Mr. Vance," I replied, my voice remarkably even, carrying just the right amount of respectful exhaustion. "You can ask the head housekeeper. She checked my work at ten."
Marcus stared at me for a long, agonizing moment, searching my face for any sign of a crack, any micro-expression of guilt. Behind him, standing by the doorway with her hands clasped tightly together, Elena watched the exchange with a pale, fierce stillness. She didn't flinch, and she didn't look away. Marcus finally let out a harsh, disbelieving breath, turning away from me to pace across the tile floor. He knew something was terribly wrong, but without hard proof linking us to the missing files, his hands were temporarily tied by his own desire to keep the foundation scandal out of the public eye.
