Chapter 2
The tension at the head of the banquet table was palpable, though masked by the clinking of crystal and the soft murmur of the wealthy guests. Eva lowered her expressive eyes, her fair cheeks flushing a deep, rosy pink under Victor’s unwavering attention. She turned her focus entirely to the carved walnut sideboard, her delicate hands adjusting the heavy brass items with practiced care.
The wall immediately adjacent to the sideboard featured elaborate, decorative molding, blending seamlessly with the grand architecture of the dining hall. To anyone else, it was merely another opulent detail of the mansion.
Eva settled a brass candlestick onto the sideboard with a faint tap. The sound was barely a whisper against the polished wood.
Suddenly, two deliberate answering knocks sounded from behind the adjacent wall.
The heavy, hollow thuds echoed directly from the decorative molding. Eva froze. She paused, her breath catching in her throat, and slowly turned her head toward the sound. The vulnerability in her careful gestures vanished, replaced by sheer, rigid shock.
Standing just a few feet away, Victor noticed Eva’s reaction instantly. His broad shoulders squared. He looked directly at Eva, his dark eyes narrowing with intense, predatory focus. Eva remained absolutely still, keeping one trembling hand pressed against the decorative molding.
"Eva. Who's knocking?" Victor asked, his deep, measured voice dropping into a register that commanded absolute silence.
Every single dinner guest stopped eating and speaking. The hum of American accents died instantly. Dozens of faces turned toward Victor, the warm golden light illuminating their sudden terror.
Celeste’s eyes briefly flicked toward the concealed bolt hidden within the molding, a flash of pure panic breaking her facade, before returning to Victor. She forced a faint, reassuring half-smile onto her rosy lips.
"Just the old pipes, darling," Celeste said smoothly. After speaking, she gave Eva a sharp, venomous warning glance, a silent promise of violence if the maid dared to investigate further.
But Eva could not ignore the desperate sound. Following the origin of the knocks, her fingers traced the edge of the woodwork. She found the disguised bolt, hidden brilliantly within the decorative trim. With a surge of adrenaline, Eva slid the heavy metal bolt aside and pulled. A narrow, concealed panel groaned open, revealing the dark, cramped service room behind the wall.
Miles Hawthorne stood immediately behind the doorway. His shirt and trousers were deeply creased and covered in dust. He appeared exhausted, his fair skin pale and drawn, but his eyes were wide and alert.
Eva gasped, stepping back. She looked directly at Victor, breathing unevenly.
"Victor. It's Miles," Eva said, her voice shaking.
Miles stepped halfway into the light, leaning against the doorframe. He looked directly at Celeste, ignoring the crowd of stunned guests. His voice remained quiet, but it carried an exhausted, devastating certainty.
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"You said nobody would hear me," Miles stated.
Victor briefly looked toward his younger brother with restrained concern. Then, his dark eyes shifted toward Celeste, followed by a slow, deliberate turn of his head. His sharp jawline tightened, the muscles ticking beneath his neatly trimmed stubble. He held a cold, unwavering stare, locking the calculating woman in a silent, terrifying promise of retribution.
