Chapter 7 - The Seeds of Treason
Two weeks had passed since Victoria Reed’s dramatic late-night arrival at the estate. The grand mansion existed in a state of tense, cold war. Victoria had refused to return to Paris, settling into the luxurious east wing, monitoring every household operation with a hyper-critical eye. Yet, despite her formidable presence, Nathaniel remained steadfast. Grace was given complete authority over Oliver’s daily life, and her position as legal guardian was formally executed by Marion Fields.
However, resistance was festering within the servant quarters.
Mrs. Gable, the bitter head housekeeper, felt her fifteen years of dominance over the estate fading away. She despised Grace not only for her rapid rise in status, but because Grace represented a complete breakdown of the strict social hierarchy Mrs. Gable had enforced for decades.
Late one evening, inside the dimly lit staff basement kitchen, Mrs. Gable sat across from a tall, muscular man named Richard Vance.
Richard was thirty-two, wearing a leather jacket, with sharp, hungry eyes and a faded tattoo on his wrist. He was Grace’s older brother—the very man whose financial crimes in Chicago had nearly ruined Grace’s life seven years earlier. Having spent three years in federal prison, Richard was now broke, desperate, and deeply involved with dangerous underworld loan sharks in South Chicago.
"Are you sure she’s living like a queen up there?" Richard asked, taking a deep drag from a cigarette, blowing the smoke toward the stone ceiling.
"She has her own private suite, her own expense account, and the master of the house wrapped around her little finger," Mrs. Gable hissed, sliding a cup of dark coffee toward him. "While the rest of us work sixteen-hour days for pennies, your darling little sister is dining on steak and caviar with billionaire Nathaniel Reed."
Richard sneered, a scheming glint in his eye. "Little Grace always did know how to play the innocent victim. She acted like a saint when I got caught in Chicago, but she took her sweet time running away to New York."
"She didn't run away from money," Mrs. Gable corrected maliciously. "And if you play your cards right, you can get a massive cut of that Reed fortune."
Richard leaned forward, his interest intensely piqued. "What are you talking about?"
"Sloane Whitaker—the heiress Nathaniel rejected—is still furious," Mrs. Gable whispered, leaning close. "She contacted me yesterday through her private driver. She’s willing to pay fifty thousand dollars to anyone who can provide absolute proof that Grace is stealing from the Reed estate or orchestrating a scheme to trick Nathaniel into marriage."
Richard chuckled darkly. "Grace isn't smart enough to orchestrate a financial scheme. But I am. What if we create the proof?"
Mrs. Gable’s eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Grace handles the financial receipts for the child's care, right? Expensive educational toys, private medical consultations, luxury clothes?" Richard asked, a sinister plan forming in his mind. "I can forge her signature on invoices—just like I did in Chicago. If high-value antique jewelry or bearer bonds go missing from the Reed vault at the same time those forged receipts show up in her room, Nathaniel won't be able to protect her. Even his high-priced corporate lawyers won't be able to save her from a grand larceny charge."
Mrs. Gable felt a chill of hesitation, but her burning jealousy quickly overwhelmed her conscience. "How do we get into the vault? It’s secured with a digital keypad in Nathaniel’s private library."
"You’ve worked here for fifteen years, old woman," Richard said smoothly, reaching out and tapping her hand. "You know every security code and camera blind spot in this house. You get me the code, I plant the stolen goods in Grace’s suite, and we split Sloane Whitaker’s fifty grand plus whatever I take from the vault."
Mrs. Gable swallowed hard, then slowly nodded. "Deal."
Meanwhile, on the second floor, completely oblivious to the conspiracy forming beneath her feet, Grace was sitting in the library with Nathaniel.
The room was warm, lit by the glowing embers of the fireplace. Oliver was sound asleep upstairs. Nathaniel sat on the leather sofa, reviewing financial reports, while Grace sat in an armchair nearby, reading a textbook on early childhood psychology for her university correspondence course.
Nathaniel set his documents down and looked over at Grace. The soft firelight bathed her features in a warm, ethereal glow. Over the past several weeks, he had found himself looking forward to these quiet late-night hours more than anything else in his life.
"You're working late, Grace," Nathaniel said softly.
Grace looked up from her book, offering a warm, tired smile. "I want to make sure I’m giving Oliver the best care possible. The university course is fascinating."
Nathaniel stood up, walked over to the sideboard, poured two small glasses of red wine, and brought one over to her. He sat down on the leather ottoman directly in front of her chair.
"Thank you, Nathaniel," Grace said, taking the glass, her fingers briefly brushing against his. The touch sent a subtle electric current through both of them.
"I spoke with the board today," Nathaniel said softly, looking into her eyes. "I officially removed Sloane Whitaker’s father from the investment committee."
Grace gasped lightly. "Nathaniel... you didn't have to do that. That could cost your firm millions."
"Nobody threatens you in my home and gets away with it, Grace," Nathaniel said, his voice deep and absolute. "Money comes and goes. Loyalty and peace are priceless."
He reached out, taking her free hand into his. Grace didn't pull away. She looked into his dark, expressive eyes, seeing the man behind the billionaire—a man who was fiercely loyal, deeply caring, and slowly opening his heart again.
"Grace," Nathaniel whispered, leaning in slightly. "Since the night Oliver walked to you, this house hasn't felt cold anymore. You brought life back to us."
Grace’s breath caught in her throat. "Nathaniel... I..."
Before the intimate moment could culminate, the heavy library doors opened. Victoria Reed stood in the doorway, holding a silver teacup, her cold gaze sweeping over their joined hands.
"Interrupting something, Nathaniel?" Victoria asked, her voice dripping with sharp sarcasm.
Nathaniel didn't let go of Grace’s hand immediately. He slowly released it, standing up with complete composure. "Not at all, Mother. We were just discussing Oliver’s schedule."
May you like
Victoria stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing at Grace. "Of course. Oliver’s schedule. Just ensure that schedule includes security checks. I noticed stranger vehicles idling near the estate gate this afternoon."
Grace felt a sudden knot tight in her stomach, though she didn't know why. She politely excused herself and walked back to her suite, unaware that the stranger in the vehicle was her own brother, preparing to destroy her life once again.
