Chapter 3 - Midnight in the Library
By midnight, the estate was silent. Rain tapped steadily against the tall leaded-glass windows of the study.
Ivy couldn't sleep. Her knee throbbed from her earlier work, and her mind was consumed by anxiety about what Diane would tell Stella in the morning. She decided to go to the secondary library on the ground floor to fetch a book on basic bookkeeping—a skill she had been trying to teach herself at night using discarded manuals.
She crept down the carpeted hallway in her socks, wearing a plain gray sweater and cotton trousers.
The library was dark, lit only by the amber glow of the marble fireplace at the far end of the room.
Ivy stepped silently toward the accounting section near the tall oak bookshelves. She reached up for a leather-bound ledger guide.
"Page forty-two has the best breakdown on double-entry ledgers," a voice said from the wingback chair near the fire.
Ivy gasped, jumping back.
Daniel Harrington sat in the leather chair, an open tumbler of scotch in one hand and a thick financial dossier in the other. He wore a white dress shirt with the collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
"Mr. Daniel!" Ivy breathed, clutching the book to her chest. "I'm sorry! I thought everyone was asleep."
"I don't sleep much when I cross time zones," Daniel said, setting his glass on the side table. He gestured to the chair opposite him. "Sit down, Ivy."
Ivy hesitated, standing rooted to the Persian rug. "I shouldn't be in here, sir. If your mother—"
"My mother is asleep in the east wing," Daniel interrupted smoothly. "And this is my house too. Sit."
Ivy slowly walked over and sat on the very edge of the leather armchair, holding the book like a shield.
Daniel leaned back, studying her in the firelight. His dark eyes were intense, searching every line of her face—the faint shadows under her eyes, the high cheekbones, the quiet, stubborn posture.
"My father told me about your parents," Daniel said softly.
Ivy’s jaw tightened. "Mr. Harrington shouldn't have bothered you with my personal history."
"He didn't bother me," Daniel said. "He told me your father ran a small logistics firm in Ohio before the highway accident. He said you were two years away from a business degree when it happened."
Ivy looked into the crackling fire, her throat tight. "It doesn't matter now. The medical bills and estate probate took everything. I had to pay off the creditors."
"So you took a housekeeping job here," Daniel noted.
"It provided room and board," Ivy said simply. "It kept me off the street."
Daniel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bringing him closer to her. "You have a brilliant mind, Ivy. I saw the way you calculated the inventory metrics on the kitchen sheet this afternoon in two seconds flat while my mother was screaming at you. You don't belong in a maid's uniform scrubbing floors for people who don't appreciate your worth."
Ivy offered a small, bitter smile. "Worth is luxury for people with bank accounts, Mr. Daniel. When you're poor, worth is just how many hours you can stand on your feet before your knees give out."
Daniel stared at her, a strange, powerful emotion shifting in his chest. In London, he had been surrounded by aristocratic heiresses, corporate ladder-climbers, and women who performed charm like a theater act.
None of them possessed a fraction of the quiet, unbreakable grace of the woman sitting across from him in a faded gray sweater.
"I can help you, Ivy," Daniel said, his voice dropping into a deep, intense whisper. "I can get you a position at the corporate headquarters in Manhattan. A real job. An analyst desk."
Ivy looked up, meeting his eyes. For a second, a spark of hope flared in her heart—then the cold reality of her life doused it.
"And what would your mother say?" Ivy asked quietly. "She would say I used my looks to seduce her son. She would call me a leech. And she would make sure I never got hired in this state again."
Daniel’s eyes flashed with dark anger. "My mother does not run my life, Ivy."
"She runs this house, sir," Ivy said, standing up. She clutched the bookkeeping manual to her chest. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Daniel. But I prefer to fight my own battles."
She turned and walked quickly toward the library door.
"Ivy," Daniel called out.
She paused at the threshold, without looking back.
May you like
"You don't have to fight them alone anymore," Daniel said softly.
Ivy closed her eyes for a second, swallowed the lump in her throat, and vanished into the dark corridor.
