Chapter 1 - The Broken Plate
|
Adrian Mercer stared down at the yellow streaks running across his Italian leather shoes. Yellow yolk, shattered white porcelain, and soft-scrambled eggs coated the hardwood floor of his own oceanfront estate.
"I said soft scrambled," Vanessa Hale repeated, her voice dripping with iced disdain. She adjusted the belt of her cream silk robe, not even bothering to look him in the eyes.
"They were soft when I plated them, Miss Hale," Adrian said, keeping his voice carefully modulated into the flat, deference-laden tone of hired help. "They sat on the side table for twenty minutes while you took a phone call."
Vanessa’s head snapped toward him. Her eyes, painted with precise eyeliner, narrowed into dangerous slits.
"Was that sarcasm?" she asked, taking a step closer.
"No, ma'am. Just a timeline."
"Listen to me carefully," Vanessa hissed, dropping her voice so it wouldn't carry into the main dining hall. "I don’t tolerate backtalk from staff. You are paid to cook and keep your mouth shut. My mother-in-law-to-be might think this estate runs on charm, but when I take over this house, people like you will be replaced in a heartbeat."
From the pantry door, Teresa Collins—the estate’s head housekeeper for twenty-five years—held her breath. Her fingers clutched her apron so tightly her knuckles turned white. She caught Adrian’s eye, silently begging him to speak up, to reveal that the man currently crouching to pick up eggshells owned the very floor she stood on.
Adrian gave Teresa a tiny, nearly invisible shake of his head. Don't.
Vanessa scoffed, checking her manicured nails. "Clean this mess up. And make sure breakfast is served at seven-thirty sharp tomorrow. Not seven-thirty-five. Seven-thirty."
She turned on her heel and glided out toward the sunroom, her laughter echoing a moment later as she answered a incoming call.
Teresa rushed forward the second the door swung shut. "Adrian, this is absurd! You own five multinational corporations. You have a net worth that could buy her family's entire development firm ten times over!"
Adrian stood up, tossing the shattered porcelain into the trash bin. "And yet, three days ago, my mother swore to me that Vanessa was an angel who volunteered at orphanages."
May you like
"She's a monster!" Teresa whispered vehemently. "She treats the gardeners like dirt and acts like a saint whenever your mother enters the room."
"Which is exactly why I'm staying in this apron for three more days," Adrian said calmly, washing his hands at the commercial sink. "I need my mother to see it with her own eyes."
