Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Granite
Julian Moretti did not walk down the stairs; he descended them like a predator claiming its territory. The household staff parted instantly, their eyes glued to the polished floor. Arthur Vance stood tall, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, waiting for his boss to destroy the insolent maid.
But Julian’s dark, piercing gaze bypassed his second-in-command entirely. He stopped mere inches from Clara Hayes. He looked at the shattered porcelain, the spilled tea, and finally, at the blood dripping from her palm onto the white granite.
“Vance,” Julian said, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed off the vaulted ceilings. “If you ever speak to a woman in my house with that tone again, I will have your jaw wired shut.”
Vance’s smirk vanished. The entire hall collectively held its breath.
Julian reached into his tailored suit jacket, produced a pristine white silk handkerchief, and held it out. Clara stared at it, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“Bind your hand, Miss Hayes,” Julian commanded softly. “And the rest of you—clean this mess and get out of my sight.”
As the staff frantically scrambled to obey, Julian’s eyes locked onto Clara’s. There was a dangerous curiosity in his gaze.
He knew every person on his payroll. He knew their debts, their sins, and their weaknesses.
But the woman standing before him, radiating defiance despite her poverty, was an anomaly.
“You are not just a cleaner, Clara,” Julian murmured, stepping closer so only she could hear.
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“You came to this estate for a reason. Follow me to my study. It is time you tell me why you are really here.”
Clara wrapped the silk around her bleeding palm. She had infiltrated the syndicate boss’s home to find a ghost, but she was about to step into the lion's den.
