Chapter 5 - The Chauffeur’s Test
The black Mercedes-Maybach town car idled smoothly at the circular driveway curb of the Mercer estate at precisely 1:30 PM.
Adrian sat behind the steering wheel, wearing a tailored black chauffeur’s cap and a matching black suit jacket over his dark shirt. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he had a clear view of the rear passenger seats.
A moment later, the front double doors opened, and Evelyn Mercer stepped out onto the porch, followed closely by Vanessa Hale.
Vanessa wore a striking crimson designer pantsuit and sunglasses, looking like a high-powered executive stepping onto a red carpet. As she approached the Maybach, she didn't even glance at the driver in the front seat. She simply reached for the rear passenger door handle, pulled it open, and slid inside next to Evelyn.
“Drive, please, James—or whatever your name is,” Vanessa dismissed airily, settling back against the leather upholstery and immediately pulling out her phone to check her emails.
Evelyn shot an apologetic look toward the front mirror, but Adrian simply gave a microscopic nod of his head: Play along.
“Yes, ma’am,” Adrian replied in a slightly altered, flat, subservient tone.
The car glided down the winding estate driveway, heading toward downtown Santa Barbara.
For the first twenty minutes, the ride was filled with polite chatter between Evelyn and Vanessa regarding upcoming charity galas and architectural trends. Vanessa played her part to absolute perfection, offering flattering opinions, laughing at Evelyn’s anecdotes, and projecting the image of an educated, grounded, and deeply compassionate young woman.
Then, traffic on the coastal highway hit a bottleneck due to unexpected road construction.
The Maybach slowed to a crawl, inching forward behind a dusty delivery truck that was crawling at ten miles per hour.
Vanessa looked up from her phone, glancing impatiently out the tinted window.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked, her voice dropping into a sharp, irritated register.
“Construction ahead, Miss Hale,” Adrian replied calmly from the front seat, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Can’t you go around it? Take a side street?”
“The coastal highway is the only direct route to the downtown archives without hitting residential school zones,” Adrian explained. “Taking the residential detour would add twenty-five minutes to our ETA.”
Vanessa let out an exaggerated, dramatic sigh. She leaned forward, resting her manicured hands on the back of the driver’s seat, bringing her face close to the partition glass.
“Listen to me, driver,” Vanessa said, her tone dripping with condescension. “My time is significantly more valuable than yours. We have a VIP appointment with the museum director at two o'clock. If we are late, it reflects poorly on me. So I don't care about school zones, and I don't care about traffic laws. Find a way around this truck right now.”
In the backseat, Evelyn Mercer froze.
For the first time since Vanessa had arrived at the estate, Evelyn heard the raw, unfiltered arrogance in the younger woman’s voice—the absolute disregard for rules, the petty impatience, and the blatant contempt for working-class staff.
“Vanessa, darling,” Evelyn intervened smoothly, her voice carrying a sharp edge of maternal warning. “Mr. James is simply doing his job. We have plenty of time.”
“Evelyn, it’s not about having time, it’s about efficiency,” Vanessa snapped, waving a hand dismissively before turning her sharp gaze back to the partition. “Driver. Did you hear me? Go around.”
Adrian gripped the steering wheel. A cold, heavy silence filled the cabin.
Instead of arguing, Adrian clicked on his turn signal, smoothly maneuvered the massive Maybach across two lanes of traffic into a narrow, unpaved maintenance access road running parallel to the highway, and accelerated past the construction bottleneck, rejoining the main road three minutes later without breaking a single traffic law.
Vanessa leaned back, looking smug and triumphant.
“See?” Vanessa purred, turning to Evelyn. “You just have to know how to manage people. If you’re too soft, they walk all over you.”
Evelyn didn't answer. She sat in stiff, uncomfortable silence, staring out her window at the passing palm trees. The sparkling illusion she had built around Vanessa Hale was beginning to crack right down the middle.
Ten minutes later, the Maybach pulled up to the grand entrance of the Santa Barbara Architectural Museum.
Adrian parked the car in the VIP zone, stepped out swiftly, and walked around to open the rear passenger door, holding it wide with his gloved hand.
Evelyn stepped out first, her expression tight and unreadable.
Vanessa stepped out second. As she brushed past Adrian, she didn't say thank you. Instead, she reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a crisp five-dollar bill, and shoved it directly into the breast pocket of Adrian’s chauffeur jacket.
“For your trouble, driver,” Vanessa said with a patronizing smirk. “Buy yourself a coffee. Maybe it will help you drive faster next time.”
She turned on her heel and strode up the museum steps toward Evelyn, who was waiting by the double glass doors.
Adrian stood motionless by the open car door.
He slowly reached into his breast pocket, pulled out the five-dollar bill, and stared at it.
A slow, chilling smile spread across his face.
He pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and speed-dialed Teresa Collins back at the estate.
“Teresa,” Adrian said quietly, his voice deadpan and icy.
“Yes?”
“Prepare the guest suite in the west wing.”
May you like
“Why? Is she coming back early?”
“No,” Adrian replied, stepping back into the Maybach and closing the door. “She’s not coming back at all. Pack her bags. When she returns from the museum, her time as my mother’s ‘perfect guest’ is officially over.”
