Chapter 9
A few minutes later, the side service door clicked open, and Clara stepped hesitantly back into the luxurious living room. She had removed her yellow cleaning gloves entirely, her bare hands nervously twisting the hem of her simple blue dress. She kept her eyes lowered, unsure of what fate awaited her now that the security footage had been reviewed and Eleanor had been taken away.
Victor stood near the center of the room, holding the glass of untouched whiskey. He looked at the young girl, noting the genuine exhaustion and residual fear in her eyes. For a man who measured human worth by power and leverage, Clara’s selfless act of intervention didn't fit any category he was used to dealing with. She had risked her livelihood—and potentially her physical safety—to protect baby Ethan from a woman with vastly superior social standing.
“Sit down, Clara,” Victor said, gesturing toward one of the velvet armchairs.
Clara hesitated before taking a seat on the edge of the cushion, keeping her posture stiff and guarded. “Am I fired, Mr. Sterling?” she asked quietly.
Victor took a slow sip of the whiskey, setting the glass down on the mahogany table before speaking. “You covered for my wife’s abusive behavior once before, didn't you?” he asked, cutting straight to the core of the matter with unsettling directness.
Clara flinched, looking up with wide, tear-filled eyes. She swallowed hard, realizing there was no point in lying to a man who possessed every security camera angle in the house. “Last week,” Clara admitted in a whisper. “She dropped a silver spoon, and when Ethan started crying, she squeezed his arm too hard in the hallway. I told her I wouldn't say anything if she promised to get help. I didn't want to cause trouble... I need this job to pay for my mother’s medical treatments.”
Victor absorbed the confession without shouting. The realization that this had been happening for weeks—right under his nose while he was busy closing multi-million-dollar real estate acquisitions—hit him with the force of a physical blow. He had been so focused on external threats like Julian Vance that he had ignored the rot eating away at his own home.
“You protected my son twice,” Victor said, his tone softening just a fraction, though his imposing presence remained unchanged. “In my world, loyalty and integrity are the rarest commodities. You kept quiet out of fear, but when it mattered most, you stepped in.”
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Clara looked up, surprise flickering across her pale face. “You’re not going to fire me?”
“Fire you?” Victor let out a dry, humorless laugh. “No, Clara. I am promoting you.”
