Chapter 3 - The Threat in the Parlor
The morning brought a fragile truce with the weather. The rain had ceased, leaving behind a thick, gray fog that clung to the windows of the Carranza estate. Elena woke up in a bed larger than her entire bedroom at the Vargas house, dressed in a soft, oversized cashmere sweater and structured trousers provided by the housekeeper. Her feet had been cleaned and bandaged, and the dark bruise on her cheek had faded into a dull purple, hidden partly by her long, clean brown hair.
She was sitting at a long mahogany dining table, staring at a plate of untouched breakfast, when the heavy double doors of the mansion burst open downstairs.
A shrill, furious voice echoed up the grand staircase.
"I know she’s here, Matthew! Your security detail ran my investor’s car off the road! You have no right to harbor a runaway thief!"
Elena dropped her fork, her entire body freezing. It was Isabel.
Before she could panic, Matthew appeared at the entrance of the dining room. He looked immaculate, wearing a tailored charcoal three-piece suit, his expression as calm as a frozen lake. He looked at Elena’s pale face and offered a single, reassuring nod. "Stay here. Eat your breakfast."
"Matthew, please," Elena whispered, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "Don't let her take me."
"No one takes what belongs in my house, Elena," he said smoothly, before turning on his heel and descending the stairs.
Elena couldn't help herself. She stood up, her bandaged feet padding softly against the carpets as she crept to the top of the grand balustrade, peering down into the main foyer.
Isabel Vargas stood beneath the crystal chandelier, looking disheveled despite her expensive mink coat and diamond earrings. Her eyes were manic, her face twisted in a mixture of rage and desperation. Behind her stood two beefy security guards, their hands resting near their belts.
Matthew descended the final step, stopping a few feet away from her. He didn't look angry; he looked bored.
"Isabel," Matthew said, his voice echoing through the stone hall. "You're making a terrible mess of my floors. Take your men and leave."
"Not without my stepdaughter!" Isabel snarled, taking a step forward. "Elena stole a priceless diamond necklace from my safe before she ran out last night. She is a criminal, Matthew! If you don't hand her over right now, I will call the police and have this entire fortress raided!"
Matthew let out a short, dry laugh that sent a shiver down Elena’s spine.
"Call them," Matthew invited, pulling his phone from his pocket and extending it toward her. "Please, dial the commissioner. I’m sure he’d love to hear about the diamond necklace. He might also be interested in the security footage my team pulled from your upstairs hallway last night. The footage that clearly shows you striking Elena, locking her in a room, and Jonathan Ambrose attempting to force his way inside."
Isabel’s face drained of color, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You... you don't have that. My security system is private."
"Your security system was manufactured by a subsidiary of Carranza Electronics," Matthew said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet growl. "I own the servers your data is stored on, Isabel. I own the mortgage on your mansion. And as of nine o'clock this morning, I own the debt notes for Vargas Industries. You don't have an empire anymore. You have exactly forty-eight hours to vacate my property before my bailiffs arrive to throw your things into the street."
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Isabel took a step back, her hands shaking as she gripped her coat. "You're doing this for her? For that worthless, silent little girl? She has nothing, Matthew! She can't give you anything!"
"She gives me the one thing you never could," Matthew said, his eyes darkening with absolute malice. "Legitimacy. Now, get out of my sight before I have Marcus show your guards how real security operates."
