Chapter 3
Outside on the terrace, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruised shades of violet and orange. Julian Vance stood near the stone balustrade, staring out over the vast expanse of manicured lawns that stretched toward the distant iron gates of the estate. He held a crystal glass filled with amber liquid, swirling the ice cubes with a rhythmic, impatient flick of his wrist. Marcus stood a few paces behind him, a silent sentinel in his dark suit, blending effortlessly into the gathering twilight.
Julian did not turn around as he spoke, his voice carrying clearly on the evening breeze. "She is becoming too difficult, Marcus. Just like her mother. I thought removing the reminders would help, but the girl inherits every stubborn trait."
"She is only a child, Mr. Vance," Marcus replied, his tone steady, measured, and carefully neutral. He had worked for Julian for over five years, handling the delicate, often dangerous legal and financial cleanups that kept the Vance empire afloat. Yet, watching the scene on the patio earlier had struck a discordant chord in his normally unflappable demeanor.
Julian turned sharply, his dark eyes narrowing as he scrutinized his head of security. "A child who might soon remember things she shouldn't. You saw her staring at the study door yesterday. She knows the safe is behind the painting. Children absorb everything, even when we think they are looking away."
"She lacks the context to understand what she sees," Marcus argued quietly, taking a half-step forward. "Putting pressure on her physically—it draws unnecessary lines. If anyone from the outside ever noticed the bruising on her hands, it could complicate our current business acquisitions."
"Let them look," Julian scoffed, taking a slow sip from his glass. "My reputation and my wealth insulate me from petty domestic inquiries. You worry about the corporate merger next week, Marcus. Leave the parenting to me."
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Marcus remained silent, but his mind raced. He remembered the day Lily was born, and he remembered the sudden, unexplained disappearance of her mother three years ago—an event that Julian had brushed off as an abandonment. But Marcus had kept records. In a hidden leather-bound ledger locked inside his own apartment off-site, Marcus had documented every discrepancy, every altered document, and every suspicious departure of household staff. He looked down at the colorful small ball still resting on the stone patio near his feet. Bending down slowly, Marcus picked it up, rolling the rubber toy over his knuckles. He slipped it into the deep pocket of his dark suit jacket without Julian noticing.
Later that night, as the estate settled into an uneasy slumber, Marcus sat in his parked car down the winding drive. He pulled the colorful ball from his pocket, turning it over in the dim dashboard light. Beneath the bright painted surface, a small, faint engraving caught his eye—a set of initials and a date that predated Julian’s ownership of the estate by a decade.
