Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO FEARED A THREE-YEAR-OLD
Damien read the message twice.
Then he called Harold.
"Bring me the original security footage from the eastern wing. Every camera. Every recording."
Harold looked troubled.
"Sir, those cameras haven't been operational for several years."
"Why?"
"Your uncle ordered their removal."
Damien stood.
"On whose authority?"
"His own, apparently."
That answer was enough.
Within an hour, the security team was searching the mansion's old storage systems.
Meanwhile, Elena had begun noticing that people were watching her.
The kitchen staff stopped talking when she entered. Mrs. Whitmore no longer allowed Lily near the main house. Even the gardeners seemed nervous whenever Damien's name was mentioned.
Elena had worked hard to avoid trouble.
She had no interest in the Vescari family's affairs. She wanted a stable job, a safe home, and enough money to give Lily a childhood that didn't revolve around counting every dollar.
But now something was happening, and her daughter was somehow involved.
At lunchtime, Damien found Elena in the laundry room.
"Could we talk?"
She immediately stood.
"Of course, sir."
"Privately."
Elena glanced at Lily, who was arranging clothespins by color.
Damien lowered his voice.
"Has your daughter said anything unusual about the eastern wing?"
Elena hesitated.
"She mentioned a room with your father's photograph."
"Did she go inside?"
"I don't know. She sometimes wanders when she thinks I'm not looking."
Damien nodded.
"Has anyone frightened her?"
Elena looked directly at him.
"Your housekeeper grabbed her."
His jaw tightened.
"What?"
"Mrs. Whitmore. Yesterday. She grabbed Lily's wrist and told her not to invent stories."
Damien's expression became cold.
"Where is she?"
"Please don't make this worse."
He paused.
"Elena, what did Lily tell you?"
Elena repeated the child's words.
The old man should have stayed dead.
Damien said nothing.
Then he asked, "Did she mention anything else?"
Elena lowered her voice.
"She said Mrs. Whitmore was wearing a necklace she had seen in that room."
Damien looked toward the doorway.
"Describe it."
"A silver chain with a little blue stone."
Damien recognized it.
His father had given his mother a sapphire pendant on their twentieth wedding anniversary. After his mother's death, it had been kept in the family vault.
At least, that was what he had always believed.
"Thank you," he said.
Elena looked confused.
"Are we in danger?"
Damien's answer was immediate.
"Not while you're under my protection."
He walked away before she could ask what that meant.
Later that afternoon, Harold entered the study carrying an old archive box.
"We found something."
Inside were several financial documents from the months preceding the accident.
Damien studied the transactions.
Large sums had been transferred from a family holding company into three offshore accounts.
The transfers were authorized by Richard.
But one name appeared repeatedly in the supporting records.
Martin Cole.
Martin had been his father's personal driver.
He had supposedly died in a house fire six years earlier.
"Find his family."
Harold hesitated.
"Sir, there is something else."
"What?"
"Martin's daughter worked here briefly."
Damien frowned.
"Who?"
Harold looked uncomfortable.
"Elena Parker."
The name landed like a blow.
Damien stared at him.
"Explain."
"She used a different surname when she applied. Her mother remarried when Elena was young. I believe her biological father was Martin Cole."
For several seconds, Damien couldn't speak.
The woman who had been quietly raising her daughter in his servants' quarters was the daughter of the man who had driven his father on the night of the accident.
And Lily had recognized something in the mansion that nobody else had noticed.
Damien summoned Elena.
When she entered, he placed a photograph on the desk.
It showed a younger Martin Cole standing beside a black sedan.
Elena's face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"Do you recognize him?"
She picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
"That's my father."
Damien watched her carefully.
"When did you last see him?"
"I was eleven."
"What happened?"
Elena swallowed.
"My mother told me he died in a fire. I never saw a body. She said there was nothing left to bury."
"Did he ever work for my father?"
Elena nodded slowly.
"He was his driver."
Damien leaned forward.
"Did he ever tell you anything about the accident?"
"No."
"Did he leave you anything?"
Elena looked down.
For a moment, she seemed to be fighting an internal battle.
Then she reached into her pocket and produced a small brass key.
"My mother gave me this before she died."
Damien examined it.
"What's it for?"
"I don't know. She told me never to give it to anyone named Vescari."
Silence filled the room.
Elena looked up.
"I was eleven when she said that. I didn't understand."
Damien's eyes remained on the key.
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because I didn't think it mattered. And because I needed this job."
Her voice cracked.
"I've spent two years trying to make sure Lily has somewhere safe to sleep. I didn't come here to uncover your family's secrets."
Damien understood.
He also realized that the woman standing before him had more reason to fear his family than anyone else in the mansion.
He pushed the photograph aside.
"You're not being dismissed."
Elena stared at him.
"Sir?"
"Your daughter is safe here. So are you."
Before she could respond, the door opened.
Richard entered without knocking.
His eyes moved from Elena to the brass key.
Then his expression hardened.
"Where did you get that?"
Elena instinctively closed her hand around it.
Damien stood between them.
"Get out, Richard."
His uncle looked at him with undisguised anger.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
"Then enlighten me."
Richard's gaze returned to Elena.
"Your father was a traitor."
Elena went pale.
"That's not true."
Richard stepped closer.
"He stole from this family. He betrayed your employer. And now his daughter has somehow found her way back into this house."
Damien's voice dropped.
"One more step, Richard."
For the first time, his uncle looked uncertain.
He turned and left.
Damien waited until the door closed.
Then he looked at Elena.
"Your father didn't die in a fire."
She shook her head.
"How can you know?"
"Because the fire report was fabricated."
Elena's knees nearly gave way.
Damien caught her before she fell.
And at that exact moment, Lily entered the study holding a small drawing.
"Mr. Grumpy?"
Damien looked down.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
Lily held up the picture.
It showed three people standing beside a black car.
One was a little girl.
One was a man with white hair.
The third was a woman wearing a blue necklace.
Underneath, Lily had written three words with Elena's help.
Grandpa. Bad Lady. Rain.
Damien stared at the drawing.
May you like
Because the woman Lily had drawn was Mrs. Whitmore.
And the old man was his father.
