Chapter 2
Agnes’s doctor arrived that evening.
The examination showed no serious injury.
A bruised arm.
Mild dehydration.
Fatigue.
What concerned him more was Agnes’s weight.
She had lost almost nine pounds in two months.
Damien looked at his mother.
“You’ve been sick?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Agnes turned toward the window.
The answer came from Greta Lane, the longtime housekeeper.
“Mrs. Celestine changed her meals.”
Damien slowly looked at her.
“When?”
“About six weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“She said Mrs. Rourke needed a stricter diet.”
“Did a doctor order it?”
“No.”
Agnes interrupted.
“She stopped inviting me downstairs.”
Damien stared.
“To dinner?”
“To almost everything.”
Greta continued.
Celestine had gradually moved Agnes away from family functions.
Breakfast upstairs.
Lunch in her sitting room.
Smaller dinners supposedly because large gatherings exhausted her.
Damien had noticed his mother appearing less often.
He had accepted Celestine’s explanation.
Agnes was getting older.
She preferred quiet.
That was what he had been told.
“I called you twice,” Agnes said.
Damien looked at her.
“When?”
“You were traveling.”
“I would’ve called back.”
“I know.”
Her voice became colder.
“That’s why I wondered why you didn’t.”
Damien took out his phone.
His personal number had no missed calls from Agnes on the dates she gave him.
Greta said:
“Mrs. Celestine told us all family calls should go through the downstairs office because you were dealing with security issues.”
“I never ordered that.”
Nobody spoke.
Damien felt the first real weight of his own absence.
His house ran on hierarchy.
When someone claimed an instruction came from him, staff obeyed first and verified later.
Celestine knew it.
She had lived inside that system for years.
Arthur returned to the deed.
The mansion had been purchased using money Agnes inherited from her father before she married Damien’s father, Patrick Rourke.
At Patrick’s insistence, title remained solely with Agnes.
“It was protection,” Arthur explained.
“From what?”
“Patrick had dangerous creditors when he was young.”
Agnes looked at Damien.
“Your father had ambition before he had judgment.”
Damien almost laughed.
That sounded like Patrick.
Arthur continued.
Over time, Rourke businesses expanded around the estate.
Offices.
Guest houses.
Storage property.
Later, legitimate companies leased parts of the land.
But the original mansion and seventy-three acres never changed hands.
“Then why does everyone act like this is family property?”
Agnes answered.
“Because your father preferred the story.”
That sentence mattered.
Before Damien could ask more, his security chief entered.
The empty safe in Celestine’s room had not contained jewelry.
According to a staff inventory, Celestine kept property files there.
Appraisals.
Survey maps.
Development proposals.
May you like
All gone.
And three weeks earlier, she had privately brought a commercial real-estate appraiser onto the estate.
