Chapter 7 - The Interrogation in the Library
The mahogany-paneled library of Foxbridge Manor—a room lined with leather-bound classics and smelling faintly of old paper and burning cedar—had suddenly transformed into a battleground.
Hudson stood behind the massive mahogany desk, his shoulders squared, his face carved from granite. He looked like an apex predator cornered in his own den.
Across the desk sat Arthur Miller, the county child services investigator, flanked by Victoria Vance, who looked around the room with thinly veiled disgust. Mrs. Gable stood near the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an expression of smug vindication.
“Mr. Vale, let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be,” Investigator Miller said, adjusting his glasses and tapping his pen against the metal clipboard. “We received a formal, detailed complaint this morning alleging severe regulatory violations regarding childcare at this estate. Specifically, that an unqualified twenty-two-year-old former maid—someone with no formal pediatric credentials—is acting as the primary guardian of five high-risk infants while you conduct business upstairs.”
Victoria Vance leaned forward, her diamond rings clicking against the edge of the desk. “It’s an outrage, Hudson! My daughter died giving birth to those poor children, and you’ve turned this estate into a circus! You hire a low-class domestic worker to babysit five newborns while you hide in your office playing billionaire! I am filing emergency papers today to take my grandchildren back to Greenwich where they belong.”
Hudson remained silent. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't slam his fist on the desk. He simply stared at Victoria with such absolute, bone-chilling coldness that the older woman actually swallowed hard and leaned back in her chair.
“Are you finished, Victoria?” Hudson’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed off the vaulted library ceiling like thunder.
Before Victoria could retort, the heavy oak library doors opened quietly.
Naomi Brooks walked into the room.
She wore her new executive attire—a sleek, dark navy blazer over a simple white blouse, her hair neatly pinned back. She carried a thick leather binder containing daily medical logs, nutritional charts, pediatric sign-offs from Dr. Sarah Vance, and security logs proving the exact timeline of the previous agency’s abandonment.
She didn't look like a terrified maid anymore. She looked like a general stepping onto a battlefield.
“Mr. Miller, I believe there has been a misunderstanding regarding my qualifications and the operational status of this nursery,” Naomi said smoothly, her voice clear, confident, and utterly devoid of fear.
Mrs. Gable snorted derisively from the doorway. “Oh, please. You’re just a maid from the valley who scrubs toilets, girl. Don't pretend you know the first thing about raising high-society infants.”
Naomi didn't even look at Mrs. Gable. She walked straight up to the desk and placed the thick leather binder directly in front of the investigator.
“Mr. Miller, here are the certified pediatric logs signed by Dr. Sarah Vance over the past fourteen days,” Naomi said, addressing the investigator directly. “They document a one-hundred-percent recovery from the hypothermia and respiratory infections caused by the previous nursing staff—staff members who abandoned their posts while Mrs. Gable was off-property.”
Naomi finally turned her gaze toward Mrs. Gable, whose smirk instantly faltered. “Furthermore, I completed my emergency infant-care certification through Johns Hopkins online program two years ago, and I have completed sixty hours of advanced newborn care under Dr. Vance’s direct supervision since assuming my role here.”
Investigator Miller flipped open the binder, his eyes scanning the meticulously organized records, medical receipts, and signed physician endorsements. He then looked up at Naomi, then at Hudson, and finally at Victoria Vance.
“Well, Mrs. Vance,” Miller said, closing the binder with a definitive click. “According to these records—which are fully endorsed by Dr. Sarah Vance, the county’s leading pediatrician—the children are not only receiving optimal care, but their weight gain and vitals are currently in the ninety-ninth percentile. There is no legal or medical grounds for an intervention.”
Victoria Vance’s face turned the color of spoiled milk. “That’s... that’s absurd! She’s a servant! She has no business raising my flesh and blood!”
“She has every right,” Hudson said, his voice dropping an octave as he stood up slowly from behind the desk. He walked around the mahogany barrier, stopping just inches from Victoria. “Naomi Brooks saved my daughters’ lives when your precious agency nurses left them to freeze in the dark. If it weren't for her, there would be no grandchildren for you to fight over.”
Hudson then turned his cold, piercing gaze toward Mrs. Gable. “And as for you, Mrs. Gable... trespassing on private property after your termination is a criminal offense. Marcus, have security escort her off the grounds immediately. And if she ever comes within five miles of Foxbridge Manor again, my legal team will ensure she spends the next ten years defending herself in federal court.”
Mrs. Gable turned pale, stammering an apology as two large security guards materialized at her sides and marched her out of the room without ceremony.
Victoria stood up, trembling with suppressed fury, grabbing her Chanel handbag. “You haven't seen the last of this, Hudson! I will take this to the state supreme court!”
“Do whatever you like, Victoria,” Hudson replied indifferently. “But the next time you step onto my property without a valid judicial warrant, I’ll have your car towed to the bottom of the lake.”
With a final, venomous glare, Victoria turned and stormed out of the library, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind her.
The room fell into a profound silence.
Investigator Miller cleared his throat, standing up and extending his hand toward Hudson. “Apologies for the intrusion, Mr. Vale. Anonymous tips are protocol to investigate, but... I’m glad to see your children are in extraordinarily good hands.”
After the investigator left, only Hudson and Naomi remained in the grand library.
Hudson let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. He turned to Naomi, a look of profound gratitude softening his sharp features.
“You handled that like a seasoned executive,” Hudson said, a genuine smile touching his lips.
Naomi looked down, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. “I just... I just spoke the truth. I wasn't going to let anyone take them away from here, Hudson. From you.”
May you like
Hudson stepped closer to her, the space between them shrinking until he could catch the faint scent of vanilla and clean linen that always seemed to follow her.
“You really are something else, Naomi Brooks,” Hudson murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that made Naomi’s breath catch in her throat.
