Chapter 9: The Blame Game
The silence that followed Eleanor's sharp command felt heavy enough to crush bone. For three agonizing seconds, neither Ethan nor I dared to breathe. The faint glow of the desktop monitor cast a pale, sickly light across the Persian rug, illuminating the empty space between the bookshelves where Eleanor stood rigid, her head tilted slightly toward the hallway.
"Mrs. Sterling?" a timid voice broke the tension from the doorway.
It was Maria, the head housekeeper, her hands wrung together in front of her crisp white apron, her eyes cast down toward the floorboards. She looked exhausted, her shoulders sagging under the weight of an unearned burden.
Eleanor exhaled a sharp, irritated breath, her shoulders dropping as she turned away from our hiding place behind the bay window drapes. "Maria. I thought I told you the south wing was to remain undisturbed after nine o'clock."
"I am sorry, ma'am," Maria stammered, her voice trembling slightly in the presence of her employer. "I only came to collect the silver polishing kit from the side cabinet. I didn't mean to intrude."
From our vantage point in the shadows, Ethan and I exchanged a tense, silent look. Eleanor stepped around the mahogany desk, her heels clicking with sharp authority as she closed the distance between herself and the terrified housekeeper. The cruelty in Eleanor's posture was unmistakable, her chin lifted in that familiar, aristocratic tilt that signaled an imminent attack.
"You didn't mean to intrude," Eleanor repeated, her voice dripping with condescension. "And yet, here you are, wandering through my private study at this hour. Is this how you repay twenty years of employment, Maria? By snooping through rooms that do not concern you?"
"I wasn't snooping, Mrs. Sterling, I swear—"
"Quiet," Eleanor snapped, cutting her off with a flick of her hand. "Do you take me for a fool? First the security logs are inexplicably tampered with, and now I find doors unlocked and papers displaced on my desk." She reached out, her long, manicured finger pointing directly at the slightly ajar door of the wall safe, which Ethan and I had failed to close completely in our frantic dive for cover. "Look at that. Someone has been tampering with the family repository."
My breath hitched. Maria gasped, her eyes flying wide as she stared at the open metal door embedded in the masonry behind the oil painting.
"I didn't touch it, ma'am! I swear on my life, I've never even seen that safe open before!" Maria's voice cracked with rising panic, tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she realized the terrifying magnitude of the accusation being leveled against her.
"You've grown careless, Maria," Eleanor said coldly, her expression hardening into absolute stone. "Or perhaps someone paid you to look the other way while outsiders accessed the estate's private records. Either way, your services are no longer required here. Collect your things from the quarters tonight, and leave the keys on the kitchen counter by dawn."
"Please, Mrs. Sterling—I have a family, I have grandchildren—you can't just throw me out like this—"
"Get out of my sight," Eleanor hissed, pointing toward the hallway with absolute, unyielding finality.
Maria turned and fled, her muffled sobs echoing down the grand staircase.
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Inside the alcove, my hands clenched into tight fists. I started to step forward, ready to tear back the velvet drapes and expose the truth ourselves, but Ethan's hand caught my arm with an iron grip. He shook his head slowly, his jaw set in a hard, grim line. He pressed his finger to his lips, whispering in my ear so quietly I could barely hear the words over the sound of my own pulse.
"Not yet," Ethan murmured, his eyes burning with cold resolve. "If we reveal ourselves now, she wins twice. Let her dismiss Maria. We'll make sure Maria is compensated tenfold when this house comes crashing down."
