Chapter 2
Far from the golden warmth of the chandeliers, in the dimly lit service corridors of the mansion, Mina Rowe was fighting to keep her hands from shaking. At twenty-seven, the housemaid possessed a beauty that effortlessly rivaled any movie star in the grand dining hall. She had a softly rounded face, delicate cheekbones, and expressive brows that were currently drawn tightly together in profound anxiety. Her fair, rosy skin was pale, and her thick hair was arranged meticulously into a braided low bun.
She wore a sophisticated black maid dress featuring a cinched waist, a fitted silhouette, and a short A-line skirt. A neatly tied white apron, paired with a crisp white collar and cuffs, completed her polished appearance. But tonight, Mina was not concerned with serving wine or clearing porcelain plates.
Leaning heavily against the stone wall of the corridor was Hugh Mercer. At seventy-three, the former chauffeur to Kellan’s father looked incredibly frail. He wore a worn wool coat over a plain shirt and slightly creased trousers. His trembling hands gripped a wooden walking cane. A healed, jagged scar marred the fair skin beside his jaw—a brutal souvenir from the night his employer was assassinated. Hugh had disappeared immediately after the shooting, and for the past year, the entire syndicate had blamed him for fleeing, branding him a coward and a traitor.
"I cannot go in there, Mina," Hugh whispered, his voice rattling in his chest. "They will kill me before I even reach his table. You know what they think I did."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Hugh," Mina pleaded softly, her American accent laced with desperate urgency. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his trembling arm. "You have been hiding like a ghost for twelve months. It is killing you. You have to tell him the truth."
"He won't listen to me," the old man choked out, tears pooling in his faded eyes. "Kellan is a ruthless man. He is his father's son. He will see a traitor and he will execute me."
"He will listen if I bring you to him," Mina insisted, her slender figure straightening with quiet resolve. "I know how he operates. He watches everything. If he sees you walk in voluntarily, he will ask questions before he acts. That is your only window."
"And what about her?" Hugh asked, a deep, primal fear flashing across his face. "She is sitting right next to him. She will silence me."
"I will not let her," Mina promised fiercely. "I have worked in this house for five years. I know the layout, I know the guards, and I know how to get you to that table. But you have to be brave, Hugh. For Mr. Ashford's memory. For your own peace."
Hugh closed his eyes, his knuckles turning white around the handle of his cane. He took a ragged, shallow breath, the scar on his jaw pulling tight.
May you like
"Okay, Mina," Hugh finally whispered, opening his eyes. "Take me to him. May God have mercy on us both."
"Stay close to me," Mina instructed, adjusting her white apron and preparing to step out of the shadows and into the blinding light of the lion's den.
