Chapter 4 - The Housekeeper’s Secret
By four o'clock in the afternoon, the estate was quiet again. The five remaining partners in the dining room had been thoroughly searched, questioned, and escorted off the property under explicit orders never to speak of what had occurred.
Roman sat alone in his large study on the ground floor. The rain had begun to fall outside, tapping steadily against the tall leaded glass windows.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Roman said.
The door pushed open quietly. Megan stood in the doorway, holding a tray with a fresh pot of black tea. Little Sadie was holding onto her mother’s apron, peeking out nervously from behind her skirts.
"Mr. Vale," Megan said softly, her voice filled with hesitation. "I brought you some tea. I... I can pack our things and leave by tonight if you prefer. I know today was terrible."
Roman looked at Megan, then down at the little girl with the sandy-blond curls.
He stood up from his heavy leather chair, walked around the desk, and knelt down on one knee in front of Sadie.
The four-year-old looked at him with wide, curious brown eyes.
"Sadie," Roman said gently, his voice softer than Megan had ever heard it. "Do you know what you did today?"
Sadie swallowed, clutching her mother’s apron tighter. "Did I do something bad, Mr. Vale?"
"No," Roman said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the brass bow key. He held it out on his palm. "You saved this house. You stopped a very bad man from taking something that belonged to my mother."
Sadie looked at the brass key, then at Roman’s face. She reached out a tiny finger and touched the faded blue ribbon tied through the handle.
"My grandma had a ribbon like that," Sadie whispered softly.
Roman froze. "What did you say?"
Megan’s face went pale. She immediately reached down to pull Sadie back. "Sadie, hush! Mr. Vale is busy—"
"Megan," Roman interrupted, standing up slowly, his eyes fixed on the housekeeper. "What did she just say?"
Megan looked away, her hands trembling so violently that the tea service on the tray rattled loudly. "She doesn't know what she's talking about, Mr. Vale. She’s four years old."
"Megan," Roman said, his voice dropping into a firm, commanding tone. "Look at me."
Megan slowly raised her eyes. Tears were welling at the corners of her dark lashes.
"When I hired you eighteen months ago," Roman said, stepping closer, "you said you grew up in a foster home in Philadelphia. You said you had no family left."
"I don't," Megan whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"Then why did Sadie just recognize a forty-year-old custom silk ribbon that my mother bought in France?" Roman demanded gently. "That blue silk wasn't commercial ribbon, Megan. My mother had it specially dyed for her personal stationery in 1982."
Megan lowered the tea tray onto a side table. She covered her face with her hands, letting out a soft, heartbreaking sob.
Sadie looked up at her mother, confused and frightened. "Mommy, why are you crying?"
Roman looked between the crying mother and the little girl. A sudden, unthinkable thought began to form in his mind—a possibility so absurd, so buried under years of secrets, that it made his blood run cold.
"Megan," Roman said quietly. "Who was your grandmother?"
Megan wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, taking a shuddering breath. She looked Roman straight in the eye.
"Her name was Clara Vance," Megan said softly. "But that wasn't her real name. Before she moved us to Pennsylvania, her name was Clara Vale. She was your father’s younger sister."
Roman felt as though the floor beneath his feet had suddenly given way.
May you like
"My aunt Clara?" Roman whispered, his heart pounding against his ribs. "My aunt Clara died in a car accident in 1992. My father went to her funeral!"
"She didn't die, Roman," Megan said, her voice filled with deep, bitter grief. "She faked her death and fled the city... because Graham Pierce told her that if she ever came back to Maryland, he would kill her whole family."
