Chapter 3 - The Morning Feast
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At precisely 7:00 a.m., the smell of freshly brewed Blue Mountain coffee, sizzling bacon, and warm pastries filled the grand kitchen.
Ethan strolled down the spiral staircase wearing his custom Italian silk robe, feeling triumphant. He had spent the night convincing himself he had finally broken my spirit.
Behind him came Beatrice, her golden reading glasses hanging around her neck, ready to enjoy another morning of domestic dominance.
“Smells like she learned her lesson,” Ethan chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets.
“A good whipping always settles an arrogant mind,” Beatrice agreed smugly as they turned the corner into the dining room. “Make sure she cleans the entire west wing today as well.”
Ethan walked into the grand dining room, expecting to see me standing nervously by the stove, waiting for his approval.
Instead, he stopped dead in his tracks.
The color instantly drained from his face, leaving him pale as a ghost. His jaw dropped, and he took an involuntary step back, nearly tripping over Beatrice’s velvet slippers.
Sitting at the head of the long mahogany dining table—my table—was a distinguished man in an immaculate charcoal suit. Silver hair, sharp gray eyes, and an aura of absolute authority surrounded him. Two broad-shouldered security guards in black suits stood silently behind his chair.
Beside him sat Sarah Vance, holding a thick leather briefcase, and Charles Montgomery, reviewing a stack of legal documents.
Ethan’s voice caught in his throat.
“Mr... Mr. Sterling?” Ethan stammered, his hands shaking violently as he clutched his silk robe shut. “What... what are you doing in my home?”
May you like
Arthur Sterling set his porcelain cup down with a cold, deliberate click.
“Your home?” Arthur asked, his voice echoing through the quiet room like a gavel strike. “I suggest you check the title deeds before you speak another word in my presence, Ethan.”
