Chapter 5
The kitchen was a flurry of final preparations. Elaborate chocolate tortes and delicate fruit tarts were being plated on gold-rimmed porcelain. Elise stood at the dessert station, her hands resting flat against the cool marble countertop to stop their trembling. The sophisticated black maid dress felt suffocatingly tight around her cinched waist.
"Elise, are you ready for the head table?" Martha asked, appearing beside her with a large silver serving tray. The older woman took one look at Elise’s devastated face and frowned deeply. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Vanessa took my phone," Elise whispered, the words tearing from her throat like jagged stones.
Martha gasped, her eyes widening in sheer outrage. "She did what? While you were working? Why would she do such a cruel thing?"
"She caught me listening to the voicemail," Elise confessed, wiping a treacherous tear from her cheek before it could fall and ruin her makeup. "She said my grief was an inconvenience to the banquet. She took it, Martha. She has my mother's last words in her pocket."
"That wicked, heartless woman," Martha hissed, her rosy skin flushing with anger. "I am going to speak to the head of security. We can get it back for you."
"No!" Elise panicked, grabbing Martha’s arm. "Please, don't. She said if I caused a scene, she would shatter the phone under her heel. If she breaks it... if she destroys the memory card... I will lose her voice forever."
"Elise, you cannot let her do this to you," Martha pleaded, her voice thick with maternal sympathy. "Mr. Arden would not allow it."
"He is marrying her," Elise reminded the housekeeper, a profound sadness settling into her expressive eyes. "I am just a maid. I cannot start a war in the middle of his birthday banquet. I just have to serve the dessert, keep my head down, and pray she gives it back to me at the end of the night."
Martha looked at the young, beautiful girl, her heart breaking for the sheer injustice of it all. "You are far too gentle for this house, Elise."
"I just want my mother back," Elise whispered into the bright, airy light of the kitchen.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, composing her delicate features into a mask of professional stoicism. She picked up the silver tray holding the intricate birthday desserts for the head table. She balanced it perfectly, adjusting her crisp white cuffs and ensuring her white ruffled maid headband was perfectly in place.
"I have to go," Elise said quietly.
She pushed through the swinging doors, re-entering the grand dining room. The cascading crystal chandeliers illuminated the gilded ceiling moldings and ivory-paneled walls with a soft, elegant warmth. The room was loud with laughter and the clinking of fine porcelain, a stark contrast to the absolute devastation raging inside Elise’s chest.
She navigated the polished walnut tables, her graceful posture unwavering despite the immense weight she carried. She approached the head table, stepping up to the champagne velvet chairs.
Nolan sat in his tailored dark three-piece suit, an impenetrable fortress of dark wool and dangerous authority. His thick, wavy hair was swept back, his sharp jawline perfectly defined in the clear lighting. As Elise approached his right shoulder, his cold, observant eyes locked onto her. He saw the red rims of her expressive eyes, the tight, restrained line of her beautiful mouth.
"Are we ready for the final course?" a capo asked eagerly from across the table.
May you like
Elise stepped forward, preparing to serve the mafia boss. But as she moved, Vanessa shifted in her seat beside Nolan’s left shoulder, pulling something from the hidden pocket of her sculpted satin gown.
Elise’s heart stopped dead in her chest as she recognized the sleek, black casing of her own cell phone resting in the fiancée's manicured hand.
