Chapter 2 - THE UNSPOKEN CODE
Dominic Vale descended the remaining marble steps slowly. Every step he took echoed like a quiet threat through the vast foyer. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his dark hair immaculately combed, his face carved from cold granite.
He stopped two feet away from where I knelt beside the spilled soapy water.
"Get up," Dominic commanded, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that made the air in the room feel heavy.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the throb in my ribs, placed my palms against the wet floor, and forced myself to stand. I didn't look at his eyes, remembering Mrs. Hargrove's warning, but kept my head bowed respectfully.
"You're bleeding," Dominic noted flatly, eyeing a small tear in my secondhand sweater where the bronze horse had grazed my skin.
"It's just a scratch, Mr. Vale," I replied, keeping my tone completely even.
Dominic turned his gaze down to Noah, who was now backing away slowly toward the shadow of a grand pillar, pressing his spine against the cold stone. The boy looked ready to bolt or attack again at the slightest movement.
"He could have broken your ribs," Dominic said. "The last woman left in an ambulance with a concussion. Why didn't you move?"
"If I ran, he would have felt like he had to chase me," I said softly, finally lifting my gaze just enough to meet Dominic’s dark, calculating eyes. "He wasn't trying to hurt me, Mr. Vale. He was trying to make me stay away from something."
A sharp, dangerous silence stretched between us. Dominic stared at me for three long seconds, as if trying to decipher whether I was remarkably brave or extraordinarily foolish.
"Mrs. Hargrove," Dominic called out without shifting his eyes from my face.
The house manager materialized instantly from the side hallway. "Yes, Mr. Vale?"
"Clean up this mess," Dominic ordered. "And fire the night shift guard who left the bronze statue in the hallway."
Mrs. Hargrove’s jaw tightened, but she bowed her head. "Yes, sir."
Dominic looked back at me. "Your name?"
"Clara. Clara Reed, sir."
"You are no longer on cleaning duty, Clara," Dominic declared coldly. "You are Noah's nanny. Starting right now."
Mrs. Hargrove gasped softly. "Mr. Vale, she has no formal training! She was hired for sanitation—"
"The formal specialists lasted less than twenty-four hours," Dominic interrupted, his tone cutting through her objection like a blade. "She lasted through a direct blow and didn't yell at my son. She stays."
He stepped closer to me, leaning in so low that only I could hear his next words over the ambient hum of the mansion's air filtration system.
"His salary just tripled," Dominic whispered, his dark eyes piercing right through my facade. "Double if he eats dinner tonight. But if you let anything happen to him, or if you repeat a single word of what you see inside this house to anyone outside those gates, you won't just lose your job, Clara. Do you understand me?"
My heart hammered against my bruised ribs, but I thought of Tyler’s hospital bills stacking up on our kitchen table back in Cicero.
"I understand, Mr. Vale," I said steadily.
"Good. He's in the west playroom. Make him eat."
May you like
Dominic turned on his heel and walked toward his private study, his armed security detail falling into formation behind him like shadows.
I turned back toward the pillar. Noah was gone, leaving behind only the heavy bronze horse resting quietly on the damp marble floor.
