Chapter 1 - The Third Strike
The riding crop cracked across my shoulder before I even saw Cassandra move.
My tray flew from my hands.
Two dozen champagne glasses hit the marble floor at once.
Crash.
The sound rolled through Sterling Manor like a gunshot.
Two hundred guests stopped talking.
I stood frozen in the middle of the ballroom, surrounded by broken crystal and expensive shoes, while champagne dripped from the hem of my forest-green maid’s uniform.
Cassandra Vance stared at me with pure disgust.
“You stupid cow.”
I swallowed the pain burning across my arm.
“I said I was sorry.”
“You spilled champagne on me.”
“You stepped backward into my tray.”
Her face hardened.
That was the mistake.
Not spilling the champagne.
Correcting her.
Cassandra lifted the thin leather crop again.
“I don't pay servants to argue.”
“You don't pay me at all,” I said.
A few people nearby turned their heads.
Cassandra’s smile vanished.
I had been working at Sterling Manor for almost three months.
She had delayed my last two paychecks.
Every time I asked, she had another excuse.
Payroll problem.
Bank delay.
Accounting mistake.
Tonight, I finally told her I was leaving.
She pointed at the champagne on her designer heels.
“Kneel.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Get on your knees and clean my shoes.”
My stomach twisted.
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“No?”
“I'll clean the floor. I'm not kneeling in front of you.”
Her arm moved.
The second strike tore the sleeve of my uniform.
Pain flashed across my skin.
Someone gasped.
Nobody stepped forward.
That was Sterling Manor.
People saw everything.
They just knew when not to get involved.
Cassandra raised the crop a third time.
A black-gloved hand caught her wrist.
Hard.
“That is enough.”
The room seemed to lose all its air.
Cassandra went pale.
I knew that voice too.
Everybody in Boston knew it.
Dominic Sterling had returned home three hours early.
He stood behind Cassandra in a navy overcoat, sleet melting across his shoulders.
Four security men filled the doorway behind him.
Dominic was fifty-six, silver at the temples, broad-shouldered, quiet, and feared by people who were used to being feared themselves.
Cassandra changed instantly.
Her anger disappeared.
Tears appeared.
“Dominic!”
She pulled her wrist away and rushed toward him.
“Thank God you're here. She attacked me.”
I almost laughed.
Dominic looked at the broken glass.
Then at Cassandra.
Then at me.
“Explain.”
Cassandra pointed at her dress.
“She deliberately ruined my gown. She insulted me in front of the staff. When I tried to discipline her, she became aggressive.”
I bent slowly and picked up the tray.
“I asked for the wages she owes me.”
Dominic looked at Cassandra.
“You withheld her pay?”
“She was insubordinate.”
“I asked a question.”
Cassandra’s mouth tightened.
“I was going to handle it.”
Dominic glanced at the riding crop.
“By hitting her?”
Cassandra lowered her voice.
“You don't understand. She refused a direct order.”
“What order?”
Cassandra hesitated.
I answered.
“She told me to kneel and wipe her shoes.”
Something changed in Dominic’s face.
He stepped toward Cassandra.
“You ordered her to kneel?”
“She works here.”
“So?”
Cassandra looked around, embarrassed now.
“Dominic, don't turn this into something it's not.”
“My mother cleaned houses in South Boston before she married my father.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
Cassandra had no answer.
Dominic turned toward me.
His expression changed again.
His eyes dropped to my neck.
I looked down.
During the struggle, the top button of my uniform had torn loose.
My necklace had slipped outside my collar.
A heavy silver locket rested against my chest.
Dominic stopped breathing.
At least, that's what it looked like.
Behind him, his security chief, Marcus Reed, whispered something under his breath.
Dominic walked toward me.
Slowly.
“Where did you get that?”
I instinctively covered the locket.
“My mother.”
“What was her name?”
“Lucia Thorne.”
Marcus took a step forward.
“Boss.”
Dominic didn't look at him.
“What?”
Marcus stared at my necklace.
“That's the East Wing locket.”
Cassandra made a tiny sound.
Almost nothing.
But I heard it.
Dominic heard it too.
He held out his hand.
“May I?”
I should have said no.
Instead, I placed the locket in his palm.
He turned it over.
On the back was an engraved S surrounded by silver ivy.
His fingers began to shake.
“I've been looking for this for twenty-eight years.”
My throat went dry.
“What are you talking about?”
Dominic looked at me.
Not like I was a maid anymore.
Like I was a ghost.
“What is your full name?”
“Elena Sophia Thorne.”
A champagne flute shattered behind us.
Cassandra had dropped it.
Her face was white.
Dominic slowly turned toward her.
And for the first time that night, Cassandra looked truly terrified.
Marcus reached inside his jacket and pulled out his phone.
“Boss,” he said quietly. “I think you need to see something.”
Cassandra lunged toward him.
“No!”
Two guards caught her.
Dominic never raised his voice.
“Lock every door.”
The ballroom doors slammed shut.
Then Marcus turned his phone around.
On the screen was a photograph of me.
Taken three months before I ever came to Sterling Manor.
May you like
And written underneath it were four words.
FIND HER BEFORE DOMINIC DOES.
