Chapter 5 - Shadows in the Rose Garden
Moving into the garden suite of the estate felt like entering a different dimension.
The suite was larger than the entire apartment I had shared with Chloe—vaulted ceilings, French doors opening onto a private courtyard of blooming jasmine, a plush king-sized bed with crisp linen sheets, and a private bath with a deep soaking tub.
The first thing I did with my advance signing bonus was wire enough money to Chloe to cover our apartment lease for six full months, pay off her student debts, and clear every single utility bill that had been haunting my nightmares. For the first time in five years, I slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat about money.
My days quickly settled into a quiet, comforting rhythm.
Every morning at eight, I met Eleanor on the terrace for breakfast. I learned her routines, the subtle signals when her tremors worsened, and the gentle exercises her physical therapist had prescribed. We spent hours in the sunlit library, where Eleanor would read classic poetry aloud, her voice regaining a strength and clarity that her son had not heard in years.
“You’ve given me my dignity back, Emily,” Eleanor told me one Tuesday afternoon as we strolled through the rose gardens, her arm linked securely through mine. “When people treat you like glass, you begin to feel like you’re already broken. But with you, I feel like a woman who simply has a stubborn hand.”
“You’re far from broken, Eleanor,” I smiled, gently clipping a pale pink rose and placing it into her wicker basket.
“Tell that to Victoria,” Eleanor sighed, her expression darkening. “That woman wants me tucked away in an exclusive nursing facility in Switzerland so she can redecorate this house and push Alexander to the altar.”
“Why doesn't he marry her?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could censor it.
Eleanor paused by a marble bench, looking at me with wise, knowing eyes. “Alexander is loyal to a fault, Emily. When his father died ten years ago, Carter Holdings was on the brink of bankruptcy. Victoria’s father stepped in with a massive capital infusion that saved three thousand jobs. The engagement was a business alliance—a debt of honor Alexander felt he owed to protect the family name. But there is no love there. Only ledgers and expectations.”
That evening, a summer thunderstorm rolled over the hills, turning the sky into bruised purple slate. Rain lashed against the towering glass windows of the main residence.
Around nine o’clock, after helping Eleanor settle into bed with her medication, I walked down to the estate’s grand kitchen to brew a mug of chamomile tea.
The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the dark granite countertops.
As I walked toward the pantry, I heard muffled, urgent voices coming from the adjoining butler’s corridor.
“...can’t let this continue, Julian,” Victoria’s sharp whisper cut through the silence. “The old woman is talking about changing her private trust. If she names that little tramp as a beneficiary or leaves her voting shares in the land trust, our acquisition bloc is ruined!”
“Keep your voice down,” Julian hissed back. “Alex reviews every transaction personally. If he finds out we leveraged the riverfront collateral with the offshore lenders before the city council approved the zoning—”
“He won't find out if Eleanor is declared legally incompetent before the quarterly board meeting!” Victoria snapped, her voice trembling with venomous urgency. “The medical panel is scheduled for next month. Dr. Phillips is on our payroll. All he needs is evidence of cognitive decline, erratic behavior, and sudden unvetted financial decisions!”
My blood turned to pure ice.
They weren't just trying to get rid of me.
They were setting Eleanor up. They were planning to have her declared mentally unfit, seize control of her private voting shares in the Carter empire, and bankrupt the family’s heritage to cover their own illegal offshore debts.
My hand shook, accidentally knocking a small silver teaspoon off the granite counter.
CLINK.
The sharp metallic sound rang out like a gunshot in the dead silence.
“Who’s there?” Julian’s voice barked from the corridor.
Footsteps hurried toward the kitchen doorway. Panic seized my throat. There was nowhere to hide, no exit except through the hallway where they were coming from.
Suddenly, a heavy, warm hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward into the dark alcove of the private wine cellar.
May you like
A tall, broad frame shielded me against the stone wall. A thumb gently pressed against my lips, silencing my breath.
Alexander.
