Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Dark
"What are you doing in this corridor, Emma?" Marcus asked, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp, calculating. Marcus was a former detective, hired by William to oversee the estate’s security. He was notoriously observant.
Emma swallowed hard, trying to force her racing heart to slow down. "I... I was looking for a place to store the used glasses, Marcus. I got turned around. The mansion is so big."
Marcus looked at her bare hands, then at the yellow gloves she had stuffed into her apron pocket. "Your tray is over there. And this corridor is off-limits during events. You know that."
"I’m sorry. I’ll take the tray back to the kitchen immediately," Emma said, her voice shaking slightly. She reached for the tray, but Marcus stepped into her path, his gaze shifting back to the painting of the baroque landscape.
"Did you touch this painting?" he asked softly.
"No! Why would I?" Emma lied, her stomach twisting. "I was just resting against the wall for a moment. I felt a bit dizzy."
Marcus stared at her for a long, agonizing moment. Then, his tense posture relaxed slightly. "Go back to the kitchen, Emma. And stay in the public areas. The Sterling family values their privacy."
"Yes, Marcus. Thank you." Emma grabbed the tray and practically ran down the hallway.
In the bustling kitchen, surrounded by caterers and chefs screaming orders, Emma tried to process what she had learned. Isabella was drugging Ethan, hiding him in a secret basement, and planning something terrible for William. If Emma went straight to William right now, would he believe her?
William was madly in love with Isabella. Isabella had spent months crafting the perfect persona—a grieving widow herself who bonded with William over shared loss. If a mere housekeeper accused the billionaire’s new wife of kidnapping and attempted murder without hard proof, Isabella would easily spin it as a delusional lie. Emma would be fired, arrested for trespassing, and Ethan would be lost forever.
She needed proof.
Emma waited until her shift ended at midnight. Instead of leaving through the staff exit, she hid in the locker room. The mansion slowly grew quiet as the guests departed, the lights dimming section by section.
At 2:00 AM, Emma slipped out of the locker room. The house was dead silent. She crept toward William’s study on the second floor. If Isabella was planning to usurp William's estate, there had to be paperwork, a paper trail of her real identity, or the trust fund documents she had mentioned to Ethan.
The study door was unlocked. Emma slipped inside, the moonlight casting long, skeletal shadows across the mahogany desk. She began to quietly sift through the papers on the desk.
Nothing. Just standard real-estate contracts.
She moved to Isabella’s private desk in the corner. She pulled at the drawer. Locked.
Emma took a deep breath, reaching into her pocket for a hairpin. It was a trick her late father, a locksmith, had taught her when she was a child. With trembling hands, she inserted the pin into the lock, twisting gently until she heard a satisfying click.
She pulled the drawer open. Inside lay a leather-bound journal and a folder labeled “E.S. Trust.”
She opened the folder. Inside were legal documents transferring full power of attorney and guardianship of Ethan to Isabella in the event of William’s incapacitation or death. At the bottom of the page, William’s signature was already written—but it looked slightly off. A forgery.
Suddenly, the overhead lights flooded the room.
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"Looking for something, Emma?"
Emma spun around. Isabella was standing in the doorway, wearing a blood-red silk robe, a cold, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Behind her stood Marcus, his face completely expressionless.
