Chapter 2 - the shadow in the study
The heavy mahogany doors of Adrian’s private study slammed shut with a quiet, ominous thud, cutting off the vast silence of the mansion foyer.
Inside, the room was bathed in the warm amber glow of a burning fireplace. Adrian stood behind his massive dark desk, his broad chest heaving beneath his black dress shirt. He held the silver lighter in his right palm, his thumb running obsessively over the crude J.C. initials carved into the back.
Standing five feet away, clutching Nora tightly against her chest, was Emma. Her soft blonde-brown hair, usually neat in a loose updo, had a few stray strands falling around her pale face. Her body trembled so hard the white lace on her maid apron rustled against the fabric of her uniform.
"Where did you get this, Emma?" Adrian asked. His voice was dangerously low, carrying a smooth, gravelly timbre that vibrated through the silent room.
"It... it was in a box of old domestic supplies, Mr. Cole," Emma stammered, her voice shaking as she held her daughter close. "I found it in the east wing storage two years ago."
Nora looked up at her mother, her little brow furrowing in confusion. "No, Mommy! You said Daddy James put it in your drawer—"
"Nora, shh!" Emma gasped softly, her hand instantly cupping the back of the toddler's head, pressing her face into her shoulder.
Adrian took two slow, heavy steps around the edge of his desk. His polished black leather shoes made no sound on the heavy Persian rug, but his towering presence seemed to shrink the entire room. He stopped inches from Emma, looking down at her with an intense, unreadable gaze.
"You came to work at this estate four months after James died," Adrian murmured, his dark eyes searching her face with razor-sharp precision. "You claimed you were a widow from upstate. You never mentioned his name once."
"Because I didn't know him like that!" Emma cried out, her guarded eyes filling with desperate, terrified tears. "Mr. Cole, please... I am just a housekeeper trying to raise my daughter in peace. Do not pull us into your family's shadows!"
Adrian raised his left hand, his broad, tattooed fingers reaching out toward Nora. He gently touched a soft blonde curl on the girl's head. The girl turned her face and looked at him—and in the dim firelight, Adrian saw it. The soft curve of her jawline, the distinct shape of her brow, the hazel flecks in her blue eyes.
It was like looking at a ghost.
"She has his eyes," Adrian whispered softly, his voice cracking with a rare, raw emotion he had buried for five long years.
"She is my daughter!" Emma insisted, taking a step back toward the door, her voice breaking. "Only mine!"
Adrian didn't stop her as she backed out of the study and fled down the dark corridor. Instead, he turned to the shadows near the corner bookcase, where his head of security, Marcus, stepped forward.
May you like
"Boss," Marcus said quietly. "Do you want me to run her background again?"
"No," Adrian growled softly, staring at the silver lighter in his hand. "I want her private medical files from the hospital in Hartford. Every record from four years ago. And I want to know who paid her bills the month James died."
