Chapter 4
Morning sunlight broke across the manicured lawns of the sprawling Westchester estate, casting long, sharp shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Arthur Vance sat at the head of the mahogany dining table, wearing an immaculate black shirt beneath his tailored charcoal grey suit.
He sipped black coffee in absolute silence, his ice-cold blue eyes fixed on a Bloomberg financial tablet resting beside his porcelain cup.
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Chloe walked into the dining room with measured, professional grace, her navy uniform crisp and her expression completely unreadable.
"Good morning, Mr. Vance," Chloe said evenly, maintaining the exact emotional detachment he demanded from his domestic staff.
