Chapter 4 - THE SNAKE IN THE MANOR
Julian Vale leaned against the doorframe, adjusting his silk cuffs while watching the bed where Noah was hiding.
"Mr. Julian," I said, standing up politely and placing myself between him and the bed. "Noah was just eating. He needs quiet right now."
Julian’s dark eyes flicked down to me, full of condescension. "You're bold for a girl who was scrubbing toilets three hours ago. Do you know who I am, Clara?"
"I know you're Mr. Vale's brother," I replied smoothly.
"I am the brain of this organization," Julian corrected coldly, taking a step toward me. "Dominic handles the muscles and the public relations, but I manage the contracts, the shell corporations, and the real power. My brother thinks he can fix this child with money and expensive doctors. He doesn't realize that some liabilities need to be removed before they destroy the whole family."
My pulse quickened. "Liabilities? He's a four-year-old child who lost his mother."
Julian smirked, a chilling, hollow sound. "He's a four-year-old child who was in the back seat of the car when my sister-in-law died. The doctors say he doesn't remember anything from that night. But Dominic lives in terror that the boy will remember."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "If you're smart, Clara, you won't dig too deep into Noah's memories. Take your paycheck, wash the floors, and keep your mouth shut. The last nanny who started asking questions about the night of the accident... well, she decided to move back to Poland very suddenly."
Before I could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Dominic appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the entrance. His eyes narrowed instantly as he saw Julian standing so close to me.
"Julian," Dominic said, his voice laced with implicit warning. "What are you doing in the west wing?"
Julian turned around effortlessly, his predatory smirk morphing into a warm, polite smile. "Just checking on our new staff member, brother. I was surprised to hear you put a maid in charge of your son's care."
"My decisions regarding my son are none of your concern," Dominic replied, stepping into the room. "Go down to the study. The capos from the North Side are waiting for the shipment reports."
"Of course," Julian said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. He gave me one last long, lingering glance before walking past Dominic into the hallway.
Dominic watched his brother leave until his footsteps faded completely. Then, he turned to look at the wooden table.
His gaze fell on the half-eaten bowl of soup and the empty piece of bread.
Dominic’s expression softened for a fraction of a second—a fleeting crack in his iron armor—before he regained control of his features.
"He ate," Dominic stated quietly.
"He did," I said.
Dominic walked over to the bed, dropping down to one knee. "Noah," he called out softly, his voice surprisingly tender. "Noah, come out, buddy. It's Dad."
Noah didn't move. He remained curled into a tight ball beneath the dark frame of the bed, his tiny hands pressed firmly over his ears.
Dominic’s jaw clenched, pain flashing through his eyes before he stood back up.
"He doesn't let me touch him," Dominic said, looking at the wall. "Not since the night Elena died. He screams if I hold his hand."
"He isn't mad at you, Mr. Vale," I said softly.
Dominic looked at me sharply. "How do you know what he feels?"
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"Because he's afraid of something inside this house," I revealed, taking a risk. "He isn't traumatized by the world outside, Mr. Vale. He's terrified of someone who walks these hallways."
Dominic’s eyes turned lethally cold. "What did you say?"
