Chapter 3
The catering kitchen was a symphony of organized chaos, but Grace moved through it with silent precision. She traded her empty tray for a fresh one loaded with miniature hors d'oeuvres, her mind racing. The phrase 'evening routine' echoed in her head. She had only been working at the Caldwell estate for three weeks, but she had quickly noticed the rigid schedule Sabrina and Vance enforced upon the little girl. Every night at exactly nine o'clock, Lily was given a glass of warm milk.
Grace pushed through the swinging doors, re-entering the bright, luxurious ballroom. She charted a path that took her past the secondary bar, a quieter station set up near the hallway leading to the private wings of the estate.
As she approached, she saw Vance standing alone behind a marble pillar, mostly obscured from the main party. He held a crystal glass of milk. Grace stopped, pretending to adjust the napkins on her tray.
Vance checked over his shoulder, his eye movements slow and cautious. Believing he was unobserved, he reached into the inner pocket of his gray suit jacket. He pulled out a small, unlabeled glass vial. With a steady hand, he uncorked it and let three clear drops fall into the milk. He swirled the glass gently, the liquid dissolving without a trace.
Grace’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced her breathing to remain slow and natural. She watched Vance slip the vial back into his pocket and walk toward the grand staircase.
"Grace," a deep voice said from behind her.
She turned smoothly, her facial expressions completely under control. Ethan Caldwell stood there, holding an empty champagne flute.
"Sir," Grace said, bowing her head slightly. "Can I get you another drink?"
"No, thank you," Ethan replied, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked out over the ballroom, his handsome face lined with hidden stress. "I noticed you speaking with Lily earlier. Did she... did she react to you at all?"
Grace looked at the billionaire, weighing her words carefully. "She is very quiet, Mr. Caldwell. But her eyes are very alert. She watches everything."
Ethan nodded slowly, a sad, restrained emotion in his gaze. "She used to be the loudest kid in the house. Now, I feel like I'm losing her a little more every day. Sabrina thinks it's a phase, that she just needs strict routines to feel safe."
"Routines can be comforting," Grace said carefully, keeping her tone neutral. "But sometimes, sir, a child’s silence isn't a phase. Sometimes it’s a survival mechanism."
Ethan’s eyes snapped to hers, sharp and suddenly very focused. The business mogul replaced the grieving uncle in an instant. "What exactly do you mean by that, Grace?"
Before she could answer, Sabrina materialized at Ethan’s side, her ivory silk gown rustling softly against the marble. She looped her arm through his, the diamonds at her neck glittering fiercely.
"Ethan, darling, the photographer is waiting by the ice sculpture," Sabrina said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She turned her gaze to Grace, her eyes cold and dead. "Is there a problem here, maid?"
"No, Ms. Vale," Grace replied, her voice even. "Mr. Caldwell was just asking about the hors d'oeuvres."
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"Excellent. Run along, then," Sabrina dismissed her with a flick of her wrist. She looked up at Ethan, her smile returning flawlessly. "Come, my love. Let's give them a picture to remember."
Ethan hesitated, looking back at Grace for a fraction of a second, before letting Sabrina lead him away. Grace watched them go, her athletic body tensing. She knew she was just a maid, but she also knew what she had seen. The milk was poisoned, and Lily was the target.
