Chapter 3 - The Velvet Cage
Elena woke to the soft, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock. She opened her eyes, finding herself not in her modest servant's room, but in a sprawling, opulent guest suite in the master wing of the Sterling estate. The sheets were heavy silk, the furniture antique mahogany. A bandage had been expertly applied to her forehead, and her hands were treated and wrapped.
The heavy door creaked open, and Noah peeked inside. Seeing she was awake, his rosy cheeks lifted into a massive smile. He ran across the room and carefully climbed onto the edge of the bed, mindful of her bandaged hands.
“You’re awake!” Noah cheered, leaning in to give her a gentle hug. “Dad said the doctor fixed you. I brought you a drawing.”
He handed her a piece of paper. It was a crayon drawing of a stick-figure woman with a shield, standing over a smaller stick-figure boy, while a giant rain of blue lines fell around them. Elena’s heart melted. She pulled the little boy close, resting her chin on his thick curls.
“Thank you, Noah,” she whispered, her expressive brown eyes softening. “It’s beautiful.”
“He insisted on staying outside your door all night,” a deep voice said from the entrance.
Elena looked up. Ethan leaned against the doorframe, holding two cups of coffee. He had traded his tuxedo for a fitted dark charcoal sweater and black trousers, which only emphasized his muscular, broad-shouldered build. He looked exhausted, the shadows under his hazel eyes betraying a sleepless night, but his commanding presence was undiminished.
He walked over, handing her a cup. “Drink. You lost blood.”
“I’m fine, Mr. Sterling. Really, I should get back to work,” Elena said, shifting uncomfortably under his intense gaze.
“You are never cleaning another room in this house,” Ethan said flatly, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “You saved my lineage. You are under my personal protection now.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold cufflink Elena had found among the glass. He set it on the nightstand, his jaw tightening.
“This cufflink,” Ethan began, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, “belongs to a custom set made for my family twenty years ago. There were only two pairs ever crafted. I wear one. The other pair belonged to someone who has been dead for five years.”
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Elena looked at the gold crest, a cold chill running down her spine. “If the owner is dead, how did the assassin get it?”
“That is exactly what I intend to find out,” Ethan replied, his gaze locking onto hers with a fierce, magnetic intensity. “Whoever planned this knew exactly how to get past my security. The threat is inside my house. And until I find the mole, you and Noah do not leave this wing.”
