Chapter 4
The bright, cinematic lighting of the ballroom felt suddenly glaring and harsh. The sixty guests pushed closer to the head table, their faces masks of shock, curiosity, and calculated ambition. A DNA report denouncing the boss was a death sentence in their world. The white and Black American bodyguards tightened their crushing grip on Eamon’s arms, bracing for the inevitable order to drag him away.
Oriana, still kneeling beside Eamon, stared at the document Winona had slammed onto the table. It sat right beside the birthday cake and a thick, heavy hardback family album that had been laid out for guests to view.
Despite her fear, Oriana’s sharp, expressive eyes scanned the paper. She had worked in the Rothwell estate for five years. She managed the archives, organized the private studies, and knew the intimate, mundane details of the family’s history better than anyone else in the room.
She slowly stood up, her black maid dress rustling. Ignoring Winona’s glare, Oriana reached out and picked up the report.
"What do you think you are doing, you insolent girl?" Winona snapped, reaching out to snatch the paper back. "Put that down immediately!"
"Did you think no one would actually read it, Winona?" Eamon asked quietly, his eyes fixed on Oriana's face, trusting her completely.
Oriana stepped back, keeping the document out of Winona's reach. Her eyes darted across the text, settling on the bottom corner of the page. She examined the stark black ink of the date and the sweeping, cursive signature of the attending physician who had supposedly certified the bloodwork.
A sudden, sharp clarity cut through her fear. She looked up, her beautiful face pale but resolute, and stared directly into Winona’s eyes.
"This can't be real," Oriana said, her voice shaken but projecting clearly across the silent room.
"How dare you?" Winona hissed, her hands balling into fists. "It is a certified medical document from the finest private clinic in the state!"
"Dated yesterday?" Oriana asked, holding the paper up so the nearest guests could see the timestamp. She pointed directly at the signature block. "This is signed by Dr. Harrison Vance. I organized the family's condolence letters."
Oriana took a deep breath, her American accent ringing out with absolute, devastating certainty. "That doctor died years ago."
The silence that followed was absolute. It was a heavy, suffocating vacuum that sucked the air out of the grand hall. The guests who had been murmuring just moments before completely froze.
Winona’s triumphant, mocking smile disappeared instantly. The color completely drained from her fair skin, leaving her looking sickly and panicked in the luminous light. She stared at the housemaid, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to formulate a lie to cover the catastrophic mistake.
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"Is it difficult to find a living doctor to sign your forgeries, Aunt Winona?" Eamon asked. His deep voice rumbled with a lethal, terrifying amusement, echoing through the dead-silent room.
The bodyguards holding Eamon shifted uncomfortably, exchanging a rapid, nervous glance. The absolute authority of their employer had just been shattered by a maid in a white apron.
