Chapter 7
William stared at Emma, his ruggedly handsome face etched with deep concern. "Emma, no. Absolutely not. You are a civilian. This is my family's mess, and I am not putting you in danger."
"Mr. Sterling, with all due respect, I am wearing a housekeeper's uniform," Emma argued, her gentle voice laced with fierce determination. She gestured to her apron and cleaning gloves. "I am invisible in this house. The security guards won't look twice at a maid carrying a cleaning caddy through the halls. But if they see you sweating and running toward the library, they will shoot you."
William looked at Ethan, who was nodding weakly in agreement.
"She's right, Dad," Ethan rasped. "Isabella thinks Emma is just a stupid girl. They won't suspect her."
William closed his eyes, hating that he had to rely on a twenty-four-year-old girl to save his family. He opened the desk drawer, retrieved a heavy, black pistol, and checked the magazine. He didn't hand it to Emma; instead, he tucked it into the waistband of his trousers.
"Okay," William conceded, his voice heavy with reluctance. "You go to the library. Get the flash drive. But you do not engage with anyone. If you see Isabella or her security team, you run the other way. I will lock this door from the inside and keep Ethan safe."
"I'll be quick," Emma promised. She adjusted her apron, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart.
William walked her to the heavy oak doors, unlocking the deadbolt. He looked down at her, his fair, rosy skin tight with anxiety. "Be careful, Emma. If you aren't back in fifteen minutes, I am coming out shooting."
"Ten minutes," Emma replied bravely.
She slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, the heavy doors clicking shut and locking behind her. The second floor of the mansion was eerily quiet, the thumping bass from the ballroom serving as a constant, muffled heartbeat.
Emma walked briskly but casually, keeping her head down. She reached a supply closet, grabbed a plastic cleaning caddy filled with sprays and rags, and carried it with her. A perfect disguise.
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As she turned the corner toward the east wing where the grand library was located, she froze.
Standing outside the heavy mahogany doors of the library were two men in black tactical suits. They weren't regular party security; they were heavily armed mercenaries. And standing between them, her satin gown shimmering under the lights, was Isabella.
