Chapter 2
The bright, airy lighting of the polo club seemed to mock the tension that had suddenly paralyzed the terrace. The wealthy donors and syndicate capos remained perfectly still, watching the violent family dispute unfold. To intervene in a direct challenge for the seat was to invite death.
But Maura Ellingwood did not care about syndicate rules.
The twenty-five-year-old housemaid had been standing near the back of the platform, her expressive eyes wide with horror as she watched Rafferty fall. She was beautiful, her dark hair neatly pinned beneath a white lace maid headband. She wore a traditional black maid dress, a pristine white apron, a white collar and cuffs, and flat shoes.
Maura immediately broke from the frozen crowd. She hurried down the short wooden steps of the platform, her flat shoes sinking into the white sand of the practice lane.
She dropped to her knees beside Rafferty, completely ignoring the massive bodyguards who loomed above them. Her beautiful face was pale with worry as she gently placed her hands under his elbow, trying to support his weight as he attempted to push himself up from the sand.
"Sir..." Maura whispered, her American accent trembling with pure, unfiltered fear.
Rafferty looked at her, his cold, sharp demeanor faltering for a fraction of a second. He met her expressive, panicked eyes, recognizing the deep, quiet loyalty that radiated from her. In a club full of loyalists, this housemaid was the only person who had stepped forward to help him.
"I am fine, Maura," Rafferty grunted, trying to mask the severe pain in his ankle. "Step back."
Maura didn't move away. Her eyes flicked anxiously up toward the terrace. She noticed the two massive bodyguards shifting their positions. They had moved to physically block the heavy iron gate leading from the terrace to the parking area.
"Sir," Maura whispered again, her voice shaking violently as she tightened her grip on his arm. "Her guards have locked the gate."
Rafferty’s jaw tightened. The assault wasn't just a public humiliation; it was a coordinated coup. He was trapped in the practice lane.
Gwendolyn let out a harsh, cruel laugh from above them. She didn't wait for her men to finish securing the perimeter. She stepped down the wooden stairs, her low heels sinking into the sand as she approached her fallen cousin.
"The family needs a stronger leader," Gwendolyn said coldly, stopping inches from where Rafferty knelt in the dirt.
She reached down, her diamond rings flashing in the cinematic sunlight, and grabbed the heavy lapel of Rafferty’s tailored dark suit. With a sudden, vicious yank, she hauled him halfway upright.
Rafferty winced visibly, a sharp hiss of breath escaping his lips as weight briefly transferred to his injured ankle.
May you like
Maura watched his face contort in pain. A fierce, blinding wave of protective rage obliterated every ounce of fear in the young housemaid's body. She looked desperately around the practice lane. Just behind her stood a heavy wooden rack filled with padded practice mallets used for training polo ponies.
Maura didn't think. She simply reached out.
