Chapter 1 - THE VOICE IN THE EAST WING
“WHO THE HELL IS SINGING?”
Declan Knox’s voice cut through the east corridor. His second-in-command, Arthur Vale, stopped beside him with a champagne flute in his hand.
“Declan, you have five hundred guests waiting upstairs.”
“Then they can wait.”
“These are the most powerful families on the East Coast.”
Declan turned slowly. At six-foot-four, with broad shoulders beneath his black dinner jacket and tattoos disappearing under his cuffs, he rarely needed to raise his voice. It was his thirty-fifth birthday, and the ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, gold-rimmed plates, and enough expensive liquor to buy a small town. He had wanted none of it.
He had escaped through a service corridor, hoping for ten minutes without another handshake. Instead, a woman’s voice drifted from the far end of the east wing.
It was soft and untrained, but there was something in it that made him stop. The melody carried grief without begging anyone to notice. It sounded like someone singing to keep herself from breaking.
Declan followed it.
A half-open bathroom door revealed a young maid scrubbing a mirror with one hand. Her brown hair was twisted into a messy bun. Her uniform was wrinkled at the sleeves. A red mark crossed one wrist, and her shoulders rose and fell as if she had been working for hours without a proper breath.
She sang another line, then saw his reflection.
The sponge fell into the sink.
“Oh, God. Mr. Knox.” She turned so quickly she nearly slipped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll finish immediately.”
Declan stayed in the doorway. “What’s your name?”
“Clary Davies, sir.”
“How long have you been working tonight?”
“Since six this morning.”
It was almost midnight.
“Why are you still here?”
“The east wing needed to be done before the guests came through tomorrow.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Her eyes dropped. “I was asked to finish.”
“By whom?”
She hesitated. “Mr. Vale’s office.”
Declan looked at the trembling hand around her cleaning cloth. “And why were you crying?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You’re a poor liar.”
“I’m a better cleaner than a liar, sir.”
The answer escaped her before she could stop it. For the first time, something other than fear crossed her face.
Declan almost smiled. “You can stop for tonight.”
Clary went pale. “Please don’t fire me.”
“I said stop working, not stop working here.”
She stared at him as if the distinction were a trick. “My brother needs me. I can’t lose this job.”
“Your brother?”
She pressed her lips together.
“Someone has made you believe that resting for one night will ruin your family,” he said. “I want to know why.”
Her eyes filled. “I only need a little more time to pay what we owe.”
The words hung between them.
A moment later, Arthur appeared in the doorway. “There you are. The guests are asking for you.”
“Get me Clary’s employment file,” Declan said. “And every payment or deduction recorded against her wages.”
Arthur’s expression tightened. “Why?”
“Because I asked.”
Arthur turned to leave, but Clary caught Declan’s sleeve. The instant she realized what she had done, she snatched her hand away.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt my brother.”
Declan’s face went still. “Who told you I would?”
“Your collectors.”
“I don’t send collectors after my employees.”
“They said they were collecting for you.”
“Who?”
Clary swallowed. “Arthur Vale.”
For one suspended second, the mansion seemed to fall silent around them.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Declan said.
“They said my brother borrowed twenty thousand dollars from an underground gambling room. They say the debt is now more than fifty thousand. They broke his arm when he missed a payment. I’ve given them almost every paycheck I earn, and they say it still isn’t enough.”
“Did Arthur say I ordered it?”
She nodded.
“Did you believe him?”
“I believe men who can hurt my brother.”
Declan looked at the red marks on her wrist. Then he took the cleaning bottle from her hand and set it on the counter.
“You’re finished for tonight, Clary. A car will take you home, and no one will touch your wages until I understand what’s happening.”
“I can’t accept charity.”
“It isn’t charity. It’s an instruction.”
“That sounds like the same thing when you’re the one giving it.”
This time, Declan smiled, though it vanished quickly. “Maybe. But tonight, you’re going home.”
He turned to Arthur, who had returned to the doorway.
“Cancel the speeches. Lock the financial office. No records leave this house.”
Arthur’s face remained composed, but his fingers tightened around his glass.
“Yes, boss.”
Declan watched him walk away, then looked back at Clary.
“Your brother’s name?”
“Tommy.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He stopped answering his phone.”
Declan’s gaze hardened. “Then that’s where we start.”
May you like
For the first time all night, the birthday party upstairs no longer mattered. Someone inside his own house had been using his name to frighten a young woman into silence.
And Declan Knox intended to find out how far the lie went.
