Chapter 3 - The Broken Ledger
Vance left twenty minutes later, slamming the front door so hard the glass panes rattled in their iron frames.
That evening, the storm that had been brewing over Greenwich finally broke. Rain lashed against the high arched windows, and the wind howled through the surrounding oak forests.
Julian didn't return to his study. Instead, for the first time since Camila had been hired, he sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table for dinner.
He didn't eat much. He sat with a glass of scotch in front of him, watching as Camila discreetly cleared the side dishes. Sofia was sitting on a rug near the grand fireplace in the corner of the dining room, lining up small wooden blocks that Sanders had retrieved from the estate’s storage.
"Camila," Julian said softly.
Camila paused, holding a silver tray against her side. "Yes, Mr. Hargrove?"
"Sit down for a moment."
Camila hesitated, looking toward the hallway as if checking for protocol.
"Please," Julian added, gesturing to one of the leather chairs near the head of the table. "I am asking, not ordering."
Camila set the tray down on the sideboard and sat on the edge of the high-backed chair, keeping her posture straight. "Is there something wrong with the meal, sir?"
"No," Julian said, looking down at his glass. "The meal is fine. I wanted to apologize for my brother's behavior earlier today. Vance is... ambitious. And cruel."
"You don't need to apologize, sir," Camila said softly. "I know we are a distraction. I know bringing Sofia here wasn't part of the agreement with the agency."
Julian looked up, his grey eyes searching her face. He took in the slight dark circles under her eyes, the simple elegance of her dark hair tied back with a plain ribbon, and the fierce, protective devotion she showed to her daughter.
"Where is her father?" Julian asked directly.
Camila swallowed hard, her fingers tightening in her lap. "He passed away two years ago, Mr. Hargrove. His name was Mateo. He had an enlarged heart. He was thirty-two."
Julian nodded slowly, a quiet understanding passing between them—the shared, unshakeable language of those who had been left behind by sudden death.
"Mateo was a good man," Camila continued, her voice soft in the warm glow of the fireplace. "He worked twelve hours a day at a garage. When he died, the medical bills ate what little savings we had. We lost our apartment three months later."
"And you have no family nearby?"
"My parents are in Texas. They have little to spare," Camila said. "It's just me and Sofia."
Julian turned his head toward the fireplace, where Sofia had managed to build a tall tower out of the wooden blocks. She clapped her small hands silently, celebrating her victory without making a sound—a habit born from months of being told to stay quiet in cramped rooms.
"She found the ring," Julian said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I spent five years believing everything from that day was gone. Destroyed in the fire. But she found it."
"She has sharp eyes," Camila offered a small, tentative smile. "She notices things that are hidden."
"Maybe she does," Julian murmured. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the platinum sapphire ring, setting it on the table between them. "I want you to have something, Camila. An advance on your salary. I want you and Sofia to move out of the servants' quarters and into the guest cottage near the garden."
Camila gasped, rising slightly from her chair. "Mr. Hargrove, no! That's too much—we are perfectly fine where we are—"
"The servants' quarters are damp and cold in the winter," Julian interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The cottage has a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a fenced garden. Sofia can play outside without Vance or anyone else making comments about her presence."
He looked at Camila, his expression softer than it had ever been. "It isn't charity, Camila. It's peace of mind for me. Please let me do this."
Before Camila could reply, the heavy oak doors to the dining room clicked open.
Sanders walked in, carrying an iPad on a silver tray. His face was pale, his posture unusually stiff.
"Mr. Hargrove," Sanders said, his voice strained. "I apologize for interrupting, but you need to see this immediately. It's from the corporate risk management office in New York."
Julian took the tablet. As his eyes scanned the screen, the warmth in his face vanished, replaced by an icy, lethal stillness.
"What is it, sir?" Camila asked, sensing the sudden shift in the room.
May you like
"It's Vance," Julian whispered, his hands tightening around the edges of the tablet until his knuckles turned white. "He didn't just come here to insult us today. He filed an emergency injunction with the Securities and Exchange Commission. He's claiming I am mentally unfit to retain voting control of Hargrove Industries."
He looked up at Sanders, his voice dropping into a cold rage. "And he used photographs taken inside this house today as evidence."
