Chapter 3: The Cold Scent of Champagne
By 11:30 PM, the gala had dissolved, leaving the great house empty and quiet.
In the private estate infirmary on the ground floor, Dr. Marcus Vance examined Tess’s face under clinical light.
""Mild contusion on the left zygomatic arch, superficial soft-tissue swelling,"" Dr. Vance dictated into his tablet. ""No fractures, but severe emotional shock.""
Tess sat on the edge of the examination bed, wearing an oversized wool sweater Sebastian had brought from his quarters.
Sebastian sat in the visitor chair, holding two cups of hot chamomile tea.
""Tell me about your brother, Tess,"" Sebastian said gently, handing her a cup.
Tess took a slow sip, looking down at her rough, callused fingers. ""His name is Leo. He’s ten years old. He had bacterial meningitis when he was five, and his leg muscles never fully recovered. He wears orthopedic braces. Our parents died in a car accident three years ago. I work breakfast shifts at the harbor diner, clean offices in the afternoon, and take catering shifts at night to pay for his physical therapy.""
Sebastian felt a sharp, heavy ache in his chest.
For ten years, he had lived among the gilded elite of New England—people who spent forty thousand dollars on a single night's wine while treating the workers who swept their floors like invisible phantoms.
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""You won't have to work three shifts anymore, Tess,"" Sebastian said, his voice carrying an unyielding vow. ""Evelyn Sterling didn't just assault an innocent worker tonight. She committed a federal felony on a property I oversee. And justice will pay every cent of your brother's care.""
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