Chapter 3
The clatter of crystal glasses and the low hum of affluent conversations provided a rhythmic backdrop to the Christmas Eve festivities. Audrey stood up, keeping Noah close to her side. The golden reflections of the chandeliers offered absolutely no place to hide her disheveled appearance. She kept her head down, navigating the carved walnut furniture and burgundy velvet sofas with agonizing care, desperately hoping to avoid the woman in the emerald velvet gown.
From across the polished marble floor, Miles Ashford continued to converse with the donors, but his hyper-vigilant senses were already on alert. He excused himself from a conversation about real estate, his broad shoulders parting the sea of guests.
"Excuse me, Richard, I need to check on my son," Miles stated, his deep voice leaving no room for argument.
"Of course, Miles," the donor nodded, stepping aside. "He is growing so fast. A fine heir to your legacy."
Miles walked slowly, his dark eyes scanning the perimeter of the room. He spotted the towering Christmas tree, and beneath its glowing fairy lights, he saw the rumpled black and white uniform of a housemaid. He recognized Audrey instantly. He had always noticed her gentle nature, the quiet, respectful way she cared for Noah when the rest of the world was too busy or too dangerous.
But as he drew closer, Miles saw the crooked headband. He saw the disheveled strands of her hair framing her pale face, and the terrified, rigid way she was holding herself.
"Something is wrong," Miles muttered to himself, his jaw tightening.
Before he could cross the room to speak to her, he noticed another figure moving swiftly through the crowd. Brielle Shaw had abandoned her post by the fireplace. Her emerald velvet gown swept across the marble floor as she walked with a tight, deliberate, and predatory grace directly toward the Christmas tree.
"Brielle is moving too fast," Vincent, who had shadowed Miles, noted quietly.
"Stay here," Miles ordered his capo, picking up his pace. "Do not let anyone follow me."
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Miles watched as Brielle closed the distance between herself and the trembling maid. He saw Audrey instinctively step in front of Noah, her rumpled apron shielding the three-year-old boy from his future stepmother. The protective gesture spoke volumes, instantly confirming Miles's darkest suspicions that a line had been crossed within his own home.
He moved with absolute, predatory precision, navigating the elegantly dressed guests in silence, determined to intercept whatever poison his fiancée was about to spit at the woman protecting his son.
