Chapter 6
The cascading crystal chandeliers illuminated the ugly, jagged wound on Mina’s arm with an unforgiving brightness. The stark contrast between the pristine, elegant room and the brutality of the injury was jarring. Cyrus held her wrist with absolute care, his thumb lightly brushing the uninjured skin near her pulse.
"Only for the last month, sir," Mina answered, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet dining room. "Since she moved her things into the east wing."
"Why did you not come to me directly when it began?" Cyrus asked, his cold, perceptive eyes lifting from her arm to meet her gaze.
"She told me that if I complained, you would fire me," Mina explained, her softly heart-shaped face flushing with embarrassment. "She said you despised weakness in your staff. I need this job, Mr. Langford. I couldn't risk it."
"Do you believe I value a spotless floor more than the safety of the people under my roof?" Cyrus asked.
Mina swallowed hard. The absolute sincerity in his deep voice dismantled her defenses. "No, sir. But she was going to be your wife. I am just a maid."
"Are you merely a maid to my son?" Cyrus asked, shifting Finn’s weight slightly on his shoulder.
Mina looked at the seven-year-old boy, who was resting his head tiredly against his father's tailored suit. She offered Finn a gentle, loving smile. "I care for him deeply, sir."
"Has Atlas ever left your side since she struck you?" Cyrus asked, looking down at the elderly German shepherd.
"No," Mina smiled, reaching down to stroke the dog’s graying muzzle. "He follows me everywhere now. He wouldn't even let her into the laundry room yesterday."
"Will you allow Dr. Evans to treat this wound properly?" Cyrus asked, gently releasing her wrist.
"You don't need to call a doctor for me, sir. I can clean it myself," Mina protested softly.
"Do you intend to deny my request?" Cyrus asked, a faint, rare trace of amusement touching the corners of his mouth.
"No, sir," Mina sighed, a small, involuntary smile breaking through her anxiety.
Cyrus reached into his pocket and withdrew his smartphone again. "Will you send Dr. Evans to the main dining room immediately?" he asked into the receiver.
He ended the call and turned toward one of the champagne velvet chairs. "Will you sit and wait for him?"
Mina obeyed, sinking into the plush chair. The sophisticated black maid dress felt absurd in the luxurious setting, but Cyrus treated her with a level of respect she had never experienced.
"Are you ready for bed, Finn?" Cyrus asked his son.
"Can I stay with Mina until the doctor fixes her?" Finn asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.
"Will you promise not to get in the doctor's way?" Cyrus asked, setting the boy down gently on the polished marble floor.
"I promise," Finn nodded. He immediately walked over to Mina's chair and sat cross-legged on the floor right beside Atlas, wrapping his small arms around the dog's neck.
Cyrus remained standing, a silent, imposing sentinel in the bright, luminous room. His mind was already calculating the violent, bloody mathematics of the war that would begin before sunrise. Evelyn's father, Victor Sloane, was a proud and dangerous man. He would not accept the broken engagement and the public humiliation without demanding a heavy toll in blood.
The heavy wooden doors opened, and Dr. Evans, a middle-aged man carrying a sleek black medical bag, hurried into the room. He took one look at the scene and immediately approached Mina.
"Let's take a look, Miss Hartwell," the doctor said kindly, opening his bag on the dining table.
As the doctor worked, cleaning the wound and applying fresh, sterile sutures, Cyrus watched the interaction. He noticed the way Finn held Mina's uninjured hand for comfort, and the way Atlas kept a watchful eye on the physician.
"Does he always stay this close to you, Finn?" Cyrus asked, observing the undeniable bond between his son, the dog, and the beautiful housemaid.
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"Mina makes the nightmares go away, Papa," Finn answered simply.
Cyrus’s sharply defined jawline tightened. He had been so focused on building an empire to secure his son's future that he had failed to see who was actually protecting the boy's present.
