Chapter 2 - The Heirloom and the Intruder
Julian stood up slowly, towering over Celeste by nearly a foot. The sheer physical presence of the man—combined with the deadly, suffocating stillness in his posture—made Celeste take an involuntary step backward.
“Julian, darling, don't look at me like that,” Celeste laughed nervously, her manicured fingers fluttering anxiously against her silk lapel. “The poor girl must have slipped while she was cleaning near the storage bays. You know how clumsy the domestic staff can be. She probably tripped over a toolbox and crashed right into poor Owen’s car.”
Lena let out a soft, choked gasp of disbelief, her eyes widening in betrayal.
“I didn't trip, ma'am,” Lena whispered, her voice shaking but clear.
“Quiet, you little nobody,” Celeste snapped, her polished mask slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal the vicious, entitled snob underneath. “Mr. Vale is speaking to me.”
Julian’s gaze narrowed into two thin slits of ice.
“She didn't trip, Celeste,” Julian said, his voice deadly quiet. “Because the keys to this car are locked in my biometric safe upstairs. The only person in this entire compound—aside from myself—who knows the override code is my fiancée.”
Celeste’s face drained of color. The carefully applied blush on her cheeks stood out in stark, chalky contrast against her pale skin.
“That’s... that’s absurd!” Celeste protested, her voice rising an octave in sheer panic. “Are you seriously accusing me of driving your dead brother’s car? Why on earth would I do something so irrational?”
“That is an excellent question,” Julian replied smoothly, taking a slow step toward her. “Why would you take a car that you’ve been explicitly forbidden to touch for the last two years? Why would you sneak down here at midnight with your socialite friends?”
Marissa, the second friend, suddenly broke down, her nerves completely fraying under Julian’s intense gaze.
“I told you we shouldn't have let her take it, Celeste!” Marissa sobbed, turning to glare at the blonde woman. “I told you it was a terrible idea to take the vintage car out for a joyride just to post pictures on your private Instagram account! I told you!”
Celeste whipped her head around, her eyes blazing with absolute fury. “Shut up, Marissa! Shut your lying mouth right now!”
“She doesn't need to shut up, Celeste,” Julian said softly.
The terrifying gentleness in his tone stopped Celeste dead in her tracks. She turned back to face him, her lips trembling.
“Julian... listen to me. It was just a silly joke. We had a few glasses of champagne at the country club, and we wanted to see how the old classic handled on the private estate road. I didn't mean to crash it! The brakes felt stiff, and I panicked—”
“That’s not what happened,” Lena interrupted quietly, gathering a sudden surge of courage as she pushed herself up from the floor, leaning against the concrete pillar for support.
Julian glanced back at her, his expression softening just a fraction. “Go on, Lena. Tell me.”
“She didn't just take it for a joyride, Mr. Vale,” Lena said, her voice steadying as she looked directly at Julian. “I was down here organizing the storage lockers when I heard the engine roar to life. I ran over to stop her—to tell her you would fire anyone who touched this car. When I tried to reach through the window to pull the keys out of the ignition, Mrs. Arden... she flew into a rage.”
Lena touched her bruised cheek.
“She screamed at me that she was going to be the mistress of this estate in three weeks, that she could do whatever she wanted with your dead brother’s garbage. When I begged her to stop, she slammed the car door into my face, knocking me to the ground. Then she panicked, hit the accelerator instead of the brake, and plowed straight into the pillar.”
The garage grew so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Celeste looked like she had just been struck across the face with a lead pipe.
“She’s lying! She’s a lying, thieving little peasant!” Celeste shrieked, her voice echoing shrilly off the concrete walls. “Julian, you can’t possibly believe a hired maid over your own future wife! Look at her! She’s trying to sabotage our wedding!”
Julian didn't yell. He didn't smash anything.
He simply stared at Celeste with a look of such profound, chilling disgust that it felt infinitely worse than any explosion of rage.
“My brother’s car isn't garbage, Celeste,” Julian said, every word falling like a drop of freezing water. “And neither is the woman you assaulted.”
He turned away from her, walking back to where Lena stood. Gently, with infinite care, Julian extended his hand and helped the young housekeeper steady herself.
“Mrs. Whitfield!” Julian called out, his voice carrying effortlessly across the subterranean level.
A moment later, the elderly, dignified head housekeeper hurried down the ramp, her face pale with worry.
“Yes, Mr. Vale?”
“Take Lena up to the master medical suite immediately. Have Dr. Vance examine her ribs and her face. Ensure she is given anything she needs.” Julian turned to Lena, his tone softening. “Go with Mrs. Whitfield, Lena. Take the rest of the week off with full pay. I will handle this.”
Lena looked up into his eyes, her lower lip trembling as she whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Vale.”
May you like
As Mrs. Whitfield gently guided Lena away up the ramp, Julian slowly turned back to face his fiancée.
The engagement party was officially over.
