Chapter 1 - The Weight of Silence
“What is it? There’s something underneath your mattress,” Maeve whispered, her breath brushing against Julian’s paralyzed legs as she knelt on the hardwood floor of the penthouse bedroom.
Julian didn’t blink. His dark, intense eyes locked onto hers with a mixture of sharp irritation and sudden, guarded panic. He gripped the armrests of his modern wheelchair so hard his knuckles turned stark white, the intricate tattoos on his chest stretching tight against his skin.
“You have no business looking there, Maeve,” Julian snapped, his voice dropping to a harsh, gravelly rumble that echoed off the high vaulted ceilings. “Get up and finish what you came here to do. The agency sent you to change the linens, not to scavenge through my personal belongings.”
Maeve didn’t flinch. Her red hair, pulled tightly back into a neat bun, caught the morning sunlight filtering through the grand balcony doors. She kept her fingers pressed against the heavy, stitched seam of the custom mattress where a suspicious, rigid outline was hidden away from the world.
“I’m not scavenging, Julian,” Maeve replied, her voice remaining eerily calm despite the biting tension in the room. “When I tucked the fresh sheet in, my hand hit something hard. Something metallic. Something wrapped in heavy plastic that definitely doesn’t belong in a disabled man’s bed.”
Julian’s chest heaved with a sharp, involuntary breath. He hated his body's betrayals, but he hated being exposed even more. “Leave it alone, Maeve. Drop it. You want your thirty-five an hour? You want to pay your rent? Then keep your mouth shut, keep your hands off my bed, and get out of my sight.”
“Thirty-five an hour doesn’t buy my silence when a murder weapon might be resting inches from your spine,” Maeve whispered back, leaning in even closer, her eyes searching his face for any sign of a confession.
From the grand doorway, the soft rustle of silk interrupted them. Elena stood there, framed by the shadows of the hallway. Her elegant blonde hair was swept up in a flawless bun, and her dark green evening gown with its plunging open back shimmered under the chandelier. Pearl drop earrings brushed against her collarbone as she slowly turned her head, her gaze locking onto the two of them with terrifying, unreadable poise.
“Is there a problem in here, Maeve?” Elena asked, her voice like glass sliding over velvet.
Julian’s jaw tightened into a rigid line. He looked away from Maeve, staring straight ahead at the balcony glass where a storm was beginning to brew over the city skyline.
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“No problem at all, Ms. Vance,” Maeve lied smoothly, standing up and stepping away from the bed. But as she moved, her apron caught the edge of the dust ruffle, lifting it just enough to reveal a sliver of blood-stained steel protruding from beneath the mattress.
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