Chapter 3 - Shadows in the GalleryBy Thursday afternoon, the mansion was buzzing with frantic wedding preparations. Vanessa’s alleged brother, Julian—a slick, fast-talking man who had suddenly appeared three weeks ago as her sole living relative—was holding court in the upstairs study.
I moved quietly through the upper hallway, pushing a heavy linen cart loaded with fresh embroidered towels.
Through the crack of the study door, I heard Julian’s hushed, urgent voice. “Three more days of playing at your older brother's house, Vanessa. Three more days. Elijah will sign the financial power of attorney on Saturday night right after the private vows. And after that, the old grandma goes wherever I send her.”
“Who is there?”
The heavy oak door swung open violently. Elijah stood on the threshold, his brow furrowed as he looked down the hallway. He spotted me immediately.
“Who was upstairs just now?” Elijah demanded, his eyes scanning the corridor.
“Me, sir,” I replied, keeping my back slightly turned and my chin low. “I carried towels to the guest rooms. I must have missed one.”
Julian stepped out behind Elijah, his sharp eyes narrowing as he glared at my stooped posture. “You. That old one. Weren't you up there listening at the door?”
I raised my bandaged hand slightly, feigning weakness. “These knees can't handle the stairs twice a day, sir. I’ve been slow all morning.”
Elijah sighed, waving his hand impatiently. “Then wipe your hands. You're dripping dirty water onto the floor. Get back downstairs.”
Julian grabbed Elijah’s shoulder, leading him back into the room. “Don't worry about the staff, Elijah. Once we finalize the paperwork tomorrow night, we can hire a professional agency.”
As the door closed, Maya appeared from around the corner, her face pale as a sheet. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the service elevator.
“You lied for me,” Maya gasped, her heart pounding. “You took the blame! You looked terrified!”
I looked at Maya, my expression entirely calm, my eyes as sharp as steel.
“I wasn't scared, child,” I whispered. “I was taking notes.”
That evening, Elijah sat in his father’s old leather armchair in the library, holding a glass of scotch. Vanessa curled up on the arm of his chair, running her fingers through his hair.
“Elijah, two more days and I'll officially be your wife,” Vanessa purred softly. “Your grandmother arrives on Friday evening. She wants dinner, just the three of us.”
“I'm counting the hours, honey,” Elijah said, looking up at the massive portrait hanging above the marble fireplace. “I haven't seen her in person in years.”
Vanessa stared up at the painting of a striking 28-year-old woman with piercing gray eyes and a regal posture. “Does she even exist at all? There is not a single photo of her in the entire house except that old picture. She hates cameras. Always has.”
“You will love her,” Elijah said warmly, his eyes softening. “Everyone loves her. She built everything we have, starting with the kitchen floor. She hears a liar across the ocean.”
Vanessa swallowed hard, her grip on Elijah’s glass tightening slightly. “How does the staff treat you while I'm away?”
“As a queen, my dear,” Vanessa lied smoothly, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Oh, and her lawyer called me again today regarding the marriage contract.”
Elijah frowned. “Honey, the marriage contract says I expect failure. Do you expect us to fail?”
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“Never,” Vanessa said quickly, resting her head on his chest.
“Then forget about the contract,” Elijah declared, setting his glass down. “I'll deal with my grandmother’s lawyer myself. You shouldn't have to stress about business before our wedding.”
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