Chapter 3 - Grace Stands Firm While the Billionaire Demands Truth
Grace took a quiet step backward toward the kitchen doorway, eager to make herself invisible in the middle of a billionaire's breakup.
“Don’t move, Grace,” Daniel said softly, keeping his gaze locked on the shattered woman standing near the grand staircase.
Grace froze, her fingers knotting together against the fabric of her dark blue cleaning apron.
“Mr. Whitfield, this is a private family matter between you and Ms. Cole,” Grace said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It stopped being a private family matter the moment false accusations were thrown around this foyer,” Daniel replied firmly.
He walked past Vanessa without another glance, closing the distance between himself and the quiet, composed maid.
“About that diamond bracelet,” Daniel said, his tone softening considerably as he stopped just inches away from her.
Grace raised her chin, her green eyes meeting his dark ones with unwavering dignity.
“I did not take her bracelet, Mr. Whitfield,” Grace said plainly, showing no fear despite her position.
“I know you didn't,” Daniel answered, much to Vanessa’s audible gasp from across the expansive marble room.
“You’re just taking her word over mine because she’s quiet and poor?” Vanessa yelled, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.
Daniel turned his head slightly, not even bothering to look back at the woman he had planned to marry three months from now.
“Grace has worked in this house for two years without a single complaint or missing item,” Daniel stated coolly.
“You’ve lived here for six months and treated the entire staff like hired furniture.”
Grace looked down at the floor, uncomfortable with being defended so publicly in her employer’s estate.
“Mr. Whitfield, that isn't necessary,” Grace murmured, her cheeks flushing with a faint pink hue.
“It is entirely necessary, Grace,” Daniel insisted, turning his full attention back to the maid.
“And before we settle anything else, I intend to find out exactly how that bracelet vanished during your lunch.”
Vanessa’s expression shifted from furious outrage to sudden, panicky calculation as those words settled over the room.
“We don't need to involve security or cameras over a silly piece of jewelry,” Vanessa muttered, backing toward the front door.
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“We are going to involve every camera in this house,” Daniel corrected her, walking toward the smart-home control panel.
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