Chapter 6: Dawn at Oakwood Manor
The first pale rays of early morning light crept through the heavy velvet drapes of the master bedroom, casting long, dusty shadows across the Persian rug. Julian had not slept. He sat fully dressed in his navy suit—the same one he had worn the night before—staring blankly at the dark screen of his laptop on the dresser. The house was unnaturally quiet. No sound of footsteps, no clinking of coffee mugs from the kitchen below. Only the distant chirping of robins outside in the manicured gardens of Oakwood Manor.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. The door opened an inch, and Elena’s face appeared in the opening. She wore a simple beige sweater over her green dress, her braided hair neatly pinned back.
"Good morning, Mr. Vance," Elena said softly, pushing the door open just enough to step inside. "Leo woke up twenty minutes ago. I’ve fed him, changed him, and he’s playing happily with his mobile. I made fresh coffee. It’s downstairs on the kitchen counter."
"Thank you, Elena," Julian said, standing up and smoothing down his trousers. His voice was raspy from fatigue. "How is he acting? Any unusual lethargy?"
"None at all, sir," Elena reassured him with a gentle smile that reached her dark eyes. "He’s alert, smiling, completely himself. Whatever was in that bottle last night... he seems to have metabolized it without lasting effects. Dr. Vance called ten minutes ago to check in. He said he’s coming by at nine to conduct a full physical evaluation just to be certain."
"Good. That’s good," Julian murmured, exhaling a breath he felt he had been holding for hours. He picked up his leather briefcase from the chair, sliding the secure hard drive and the financial folders inside. "I have to go downtown this morning. I’ll be back by noon. Can I trust you to manage the estate and keep Leo secure until I return?"
"With my life, Mr. Vance," Elena replied firmly, her posture straight, her gaze unwavering. "Nobody enters or leaves this wing without your direct authorization. I’ve already instructed the kitchen staff not to answer the service door."
Julian nodded, feeling a profound sense of gratitude toward the young nanny. Without her watchful eye and steady presence, things might have escalated much further before he discovered the truth. "Thank you, Elena. You’ve been more than an employee to us. You’ve been a lifeline."
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As Julian walked down the grand staircase toward the foyer, he passed the wood-paneled hallway where the American flag hung silently against the wall. The memory of the previous night’s confrontation flashed briefly behind his eyes—the aggressive advance, the sharp crack of the slap, the stern condemnation. It felt like a lifetime ago, yet the physical evidence remained fresh.
Near the front entrance, local police officers stood waiting by the console table. Arthur Pendelton had evidently arranged for an initial precinct notification to accompany the civil filings. Julian squared his shoulders, adjusted his red tie, and walked forward to meet them.
