Chapter 3
The clatter of crystal glasses and the low hum of affluent conversations provided a rhythmic backdrop to the Christmas Eve festivities. Megan stepped into the bright, airy light of the grand salon, her eyes frantically scanning the crowded room for the catering station. She kept her head down, navigating the carved walnut furniture and burgundy velvet sofas with agonizing care, desperate to remain invisible among the mafia elite.
Penny walked closely beside her, her tiny boots silent against the thick, luxurious rugs.
"Go to your daddy, Penny," Megan whispered, gently nudging the toddler toward the towering Christmas tree where Gareth was standing.
Before Megan could retreat to the service carts, a swift, deliberate movement intercepted her. Sienna Vale separated herself from a group of wealthy donors. The champagne satin of her gown shimmered like spun gold under the chandeliers. She moved with ruthless, calculated precision, stepping directly into Megan’s path and physically blocking the maid’s exit.
Megan froze, her expressive eyes widening in sudden panic.
"Miss Vale," Megan murmured respectfully, keeping her gaze lowered. "Excuse me."
"Not quite yet, Megan," Sienna stated, her voice dropping into a quiet, chilling register meant only for the terrified maid.
Without warning, Sienna stepped aggressively forward. Her manicured hands shot out, gripping the fabric of Megan’s white apron. The socialite began to forcefully and violently search the pockets of the uniform, her movements sharp and demeaning.
"Miss Vale, what are you doing?" Megan gasped, trying to pull away, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
"Hold still, you little thief," Sienna hissed, her polished public expression freezing into a mask of pure malice. She shoved Megan backward against a polished walnut console, her hands tearing at the pockets of the apron.
The physical struggle was brief but violent. Megan’s hair became entirely disheveled, loose strands falling across her face. Her white ruffled headband was knocked crooked, and her pristine apron was severely rumpled by the aggressive assault.
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"I haven't taken anything!" Megan pleaded, her breath trembling as she looked around desperately for help.
"We will see about that," Sienna sneered, her fingers finally closing around a heavy, sharp object hidden deep within the fabric of the left apron pocket. A triumphant, quiet satisfaction gleamed in the socialite's eyes as she secured her prize, fully prepared to destroy the innocent maid in front of the entire syndicate.
