Chapter 3
The heavy service door swung inward, and Marissa practically tumbled into the bright, cinematic light of the nursery lounge. She was twenty-seven, her fair and rosy skin stark white with sheer, unadulterated terror. She wore her crisp professional housekeeping uniform—a neat apron, dark tights, and simple flats—but her usually immaculate appearance was completely disheveled. Her hair was falling out of its bun, and she was gasping for air as if she had just sprinted across the entire compound.
"Marissa," Daniel said, his voice a low, commanding rumble designed to anchor her panic. "Breathe. What is going on here?"
Marissa looked up, her wide, terrified eyes darting immediately past Daniel’s tailored three-piece suit to the elegant, dark-red blouse of Evelyn Carter sitting casually at the dining table. Marissa visibly flinched, her hands trembling as she grabbed the edge of the doorframe for support.
"You have no business in this wing, Marissa," Evelyn stated coldly, taking a slow sip from her crystal water goblet. Her crisp American accent was laced with aristocratic venom. "Return to the kitchens immediately, or I will have you terminated."
"Do not speak to my staff," Daniel snapped at his mother, his dark eyes flashing with a predatory intensity. He turned his attention back to the housekeeper, his tone softening only slightly. "Tell me exactly what happened to Clara. Right now."
Marissa swallowed hard, her chest heaving as she looked down at Clara’s unconscious, filthy form on the floor.
"Boss," Marissa stammered, her voice shaking violently. She looked back up at Daniel, her eyes welling with tears. "Boss… You can’t imagine what Evelyn did."
"I am giving you three seconds to stop listening to that lying maid!" Evelyn shouted, finally rising from her padded dining chair. Her pearl jewelry clattered against her chest. "Daniel, she is a hysterical lower-class girl trying to cover for your wife's incompetence!"
"I said, shut your mouth!" Daniel roared. The sheer, overwhelming volume and masculine power of the veteran Mafia boss shook the very glass in the windows. He turned his piercing gaze back to the housekeeper. "Marissa. Tell me."
"She didn't trip, Mr. Carter," Marissa cried, tears finally spilling over her rosy cheeks. "Evelyn locked the medical staff out of the wing. She forced Clara out of bed this morning. She dragged her down to the cellar storage and made her scrub the concrete floors on her hands and knees. Clara was begging for her pain medication, but Evelyn just laughed at her!"
The temperature in the bright, sunlit room seemed to plummet to absolute zero. Daniel’s handsome, movie-star features hardened into a mask of pure, lethal stone. His grip on Noah remained flawlessly secure, but his free hand curled into a tight, white-knuckled fist. The heavy signet ring dug into his own skin.
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"You sent my postpartum wife to the cellar?" Daniel whispered, the terrifyingly quiet volume of his voice promising apocalyptic violence.
Before Marissa could elaborate on the horrors Clara had endured, a heavy, polished leather shoe stepped loudly out from the adjoining private dining room, bringing a new, deadly threat into the blinding light.
