Chapter 6 - The Maid's Loyalty
Thursday morning arrived under a pale, overcast sky.
By eight o'clock, the atmosphere inside the mansion was suffocating. Servants moved quietly, sensing the impending catastrophe.
I was sitting in my wheelchair in the main parlor, dressed in a custom charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and silk tie.
Vanessa walked downstairs wearing a razor-sharp black dress, her hair pulled back into a sleek bun. She looked like a woman preparing to attend a funeral—and in a way, she was.
"Why are you dressed like that?" she sneered, looking down at me. "You're not attending the execution, Julian. You're staying here. Uncle Martin and I will handle the board meeting."
"I am the CEO," I replied smoothly. "I will be present at the board meeting."
Vanessa scoffed, taking a sip of her morning espresso. "You can barely keep your head up. Don't embarrass yourself further."
Just then, Uncle Martin hurried through the front doors, holding a leather briefcase, his face pale and sweating.
"Vanessa! We have a problem!" Martin gasped, rushing into the parlor.
Vanessa frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"The internal audit files!" Martin stammered, pulling out a tablet. "Someone accessed the offshore transfer logs from an internal IP address last night at midnight! The files were downloaded!"
Vanessa’s head snapped toward me, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Was it you?"
"I don't even have my laptop," I said calmly, holding up my hands. "You took my personal devices three weeks ago, remember?"
Vanessa whirled around, her gaze landing on Clara, who was quietly polishing the silver tea set near the dining room entrance.
"Her," Vanessa hissed, pointing a finger at Clara. "It was her! She was in the library last night! I saw her bringing him soup!"
Clara froze, her face turning pale. "I... I didn't touch any computers, Miss Vanessa. I only brought Mr. Sterling his dinner."
"Liar!" Vanessa shouted, striding across the parlor and grabbing Clara by her arm, shaking her violently. "You little thief! You've been spying for him, haven't you? Where are the files?"
"Let her go, Vanessa," I said, my voice dropping into a register so cold and quiet that even Uncle Martin took a step back.
Vanessa ignored me, pulling Clara's small cloth apron pocket open and dumping its contents onto the marble floor—a notepad, a pen, a handkerchief, and a silver house key.
"Search her room!" Vanessa screamed at the security guards standing near the entrance. "Throw her out on the street! Call the police and have her arrested for corporate espionage!"
"No!" Clara pleaded, tears spilling from her eyes. "I didn't do anything!"
The two security guards stepped forward, reaching for Clara's arms.
"Don't touch her," I commanded.
The guards hesitated. Marcus, my head of security, stepped directly between the guards and Clara, resting his hand on his holster. His massive frame blocked them entirely.
"You work for me, Marcus!" Vanessa yelled, her voice screeching through the grand hallway. "I am taking control of this estate today! Fire him! Fire all of them!"
"Marcus answers only to the chairman," I said softly, my eyes fixed on Vanessa. "And as of this moment, the chairman is still sitting right here."
Vanessa laughed hysterically, adjusting her dress. "Enjoy your last thirty minutes of power, Julian. By nine-thirty, you won't even own the shoes on your feet. Marcus, stay here with him. Martin, let's go. The board is waiting."
She turned and marched out the front doors, Uncle Martin scrambling behind her.
The grand hallway fell quiet again.
Clara stood trembling, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, holding her apron close to her chest.
I rolled my chair over to her. I reached out, gently taking her shaking hand into mine.
"Are you okay, Clara?" I asked softly.
She looked at me, wiping her eyes, her voice quivering. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling... I didn't mean to cause trouble..."
"You didn't cause trouble," I smiled gently, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You were perfect."
I looked up at Marcus. "Is the transport ready?"
"Waiting at the side entrance, sir," Marcus replied with a crisp nod. "The legal team and federal prosecutors are already in position at Sterling Tower."
I stood up from my wheelchair.
Clara gasped, her eyes going wide as saucer plates, her mouth dropping open in utter shock as I rose to my full height of six-foot-two, smoothing down the front of my charcoal jacket.
"You... you can walk?" she whispered, her voice breathless.
May you like
I looked down at her with a warm, genuine smile. "I never stopped, Clara."
I offered her my arm. "Now, come with me. You have a front-row seat to the show."
