Chapter 2 - THE HOUSEKEEPER WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Rosalind Marsh arrived four minutes later.
At sixty-two, the housekeeper had managed the Reyes estate for nearly two decades. She had survived three house managers, two attempted assassinations, and a Christmas dinner at which Damian's uncle had threatened to shoot a cousin over a disputed inheritance.
Nothing rattled Rosalind Marsh.
Until Damian turned his monitor toward her.
"Tell me everything you know about Elena Cruz."
Rosalind glanced at the screen. "She's a good worker. Quiet, respectful, and reliable."
"That isn't what I asked."
Her fingers tightened around the small notebook she carried everywhere.
Damian noticed.
"Who recommended her?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"She needed employment. I believed she deserved an opportunity."
"That's a charitable answer. Try an honest one."
For the first time since entering the office, Rosalind looked toward the closed door.
"Mr. Reyes, some things are better left alone."
Damian rose slowly.
"Someone has been putting their hands on a woman who works in my home. If you know who it is, you're going to tell me."
Rosalind swallowed.
"I don't know who caused those bruises."
"But you know something."
Before she could answer, a sharp crash came from the kitchen.
Damian was moving before the sound finished echoing.
He found Elena kneeling beside a shattered glass pitcher. Water spread across the marble floor. One of the younger kitchen workers hovered nearby, pale and silent.
Elena was trying to collect the broken pieces with her bare hands.
"Stop," Damian ordered.
She froze.
He crouched, took the largest shard from beside her fingers, and set it on a towel.
"You're going to cut yourself."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Why are you apologizing?"
She stared at him as if the question made no sense.
Damian's anger shifted into something more unsettling than rage.
He had seen men beg for their lives with less terror in their eyes.
He sent the kitchen staff away and asked Elena to stand. She did, keeping her injured wrists close to her body.
"Did someone threaten you?" he asked.
Her eyes darted toward the doorway.
That was answer enough.
"Who?"
"No one."
"Elena, I'm not asking you to trust me. I'm asking you to tell me whether someone in this house is hurting you."
She shook her head too quickly.
Then she whispered, "Please don't make me leave."
Damian went still.
"Who said anything about making you leave?"
She pressed her lips together, realizing she'd revealed more than she intended.
He lowered his voice.
"Nobody is firing you. Nobody is sending you anywhere without your consent. But if you're in danger, I need to know."
For several seconds, she seemed to fight an invisible battle.
Finally, she said, "He told me you wouldn't believe me."
"Who did?"
A phone vibrated inside Elena's apron pocket.
The color drained from her face.
She didn't reach for it.
Damian held out his hand, then stopped before touching her.
"You don't have to give it to me. You can look at it yourself."
Her fingers shook as she pulled out the phone.
One message appeared on the screen.
YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH, AND YOUR LITTLE BROTHER WON'T SEE TOMORROW.
Damian read it once.
Then again.
"Your brother," he said. "Where is he?"
Elena's face crumpled.
"Please. He hasn't done anything wrong."
"Where is he, Elena?"
"At St. Mary's. He's sixteen. He's recovering from surgery."
Damian's jaw tightened.
"Whoever sent that message knows where he is."
Elena nodded, tears gathering in her eyes.
"He said he could reach him anywhere."
"Who said that?"
She looked at Damian.
And finally, she spoke the name.
"Victor."
Damian recognized it immediately.
Victor Hale was his chief of security.
The man who had protected his family for eleven years.
The man who knew every camera, every entrance, every weakness in the Reyes estate.
Damian took out his phone.
"Lock down the hospital's security arrangements," he ordered his head of operations. "Quietly. No one gets near Elena's brother without independent verification."
Then he looked at Elena.
"You're staying here. Not as my employee. As someone under my protection."
She backed away.
"You don't understand. He isn't the only one."
"Who else?"
Her mouth opened.
A woman's voice answered from the kitchen entrance.
"Damian? Why is everyone standing around like somebody died?"
Isabella Vale stepped into the room wearing a cream cashmere coat and a diamond bracelet that had once belonged to Damian's mother.
His fiancée smiled at him.
Then she noticed Elena.
The smile disappeared.
"Get that girl out of my sight."
Damian's expression hardened.
"Careful, Isabella."
She lifted her chin.
"You have no idea what you've brought into this house."
Elena began trembling so violently that the phone nearly slipped from her hand.
Isabella saw it.
And for one unguarded second, Damian witnessed something unmistakable in his fiancée's eyes.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Isabella turned toward the hallway.
"Rosalind," she snapped. "Take Elena upstairs. I need to speak to Damian alone."
"No," Damian said.
His fiancée slowly faced him.
"What did you just say?"
"I said no."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Damian stepped between the two women.
"Elena stays where she is. And until I understand why my employee is terrified of my security chief, nobody in this house gives her an order without my approval."
Isabella's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Damian had built his empire on noticing slight changes.
She leaned closer and whispered, "If you start digging into this, you'll destroy everything your father left you."
Then she walked away.
Damian watched her disappear.
Behind him, Elena spoke in a voice so faint he almost missed it.
"Mr. Reyes?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
She looked toward the stairs.
"Your father isn't dead."
May you like
And before Damian could ask what she meant, every security camera in the mansion went black.
---
