Chapter 1 - HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE HOME
“You came back?”
Emma Collins nearly dropped the silver tray.
At 5:07 on a rain-black Thursday morning, Dominic Mercer stood inside the servants’ pantry of his own Newport mansion, soaked to the bone, one finger pressed to his lips.
He was supposed to be in London.
His fiancée believed he was three thousand miles away.
And in forty-eight hours, he was supposed to marry her.
“Don’t say my name,” Dominic whispered.
Emma stared at him.
Half of New England feared Dominic Mercer.
The other half pretended they had never heard of him.
He ran shipping companies, private security firms, restaurants, construction businesses, and several operations people knew better than to ask about.
But Emma had known him since he was twenty-two.
She had never seen him look like this.
Not angry.
Not cold.
Worried.
“Does Brooke know?” Emma asked.
“No.”
“Security?”
“Two men.”
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
“My nephew called me last night.”
Emma’s face tightened.
“Noah?”
“He was crying.”
Nine-year-old Noah had lost his father six months ago.
His mother, Natalie—Dominic’s younger sister—had barely slept since.
Dominic had moved them into the Mercer estate because their mother, Catherine, had made him promise Natalie would always have a home there.
“What did he say?” Emma asked.
Dominic took out his phone.
“He asked why Brooke told him his mother had to leave after the wedding.”
Emma’s mouth went dry.
Then Dominic added quietly, “He also asked why Brooke said Grandma Catherine’s cottage belongs to her now.”
Emma froze.
The cottage.
Catherine Mercer’s favorite place in the world.
The small cedar house beside the eastern garden.
Catherine had left it in trust for Natalie and Noah.
Brooke had no claim to it.
None.
“Dominic…”
“I know.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
High heels.
Slow.
Confident.
Emma turned pale.
Brooke.
Dominic stepped behind an old service door leading into the wine corridor.
“Say nothing,” he whispered.
Seconds later, Brooke Harrington walked into the pantry.
Her blond hair was perfect.
Her cream silk robe probably cost more than Emma’s monthly salary.
A leather folder rested under one arm.
“Where’s Natalie?”
Emma kept her face blank.
“Probably sleeping.”
Brooke stared at her.
“Wake her.”
“It’s five in the morning.”
“I’m aware.”
Emma didn’t move.
Brooke’s smile vanished.
“I said wake her.”
“Why?”
Brooke placed the folder on the counter.
“Because your job is to follow instructions, not question the future Mrs. Mercer.”
Behind the wall, Dominic heard every word.
Then Brooke picked up a porcelain coffee cup.
She looked Emma directly in the eye.
And dropped it.
The cup shattered.
Coffee splashed over Emma’s shoes.
Brooke smiled.
“Careless.”
Emma stared at the broken pieces.
“You dropped that.”
“And who’s Dominic going to believe?”
Emma slowly lifted her eyes.
Brooke leaned close.
“The cup comes out of your paycheck.”
“You broke the vase Tuesday too.”
Brooke’s face hardened.
“I don’t like your tone.”
“I don’t like paying for things you break.”
For one second, Brooke looked ready to slap her.
Then a sleepy voice came from the hall.
“Brooke?”
Natalie Mercer appeared in sweatpants and her dead husband’s old college sweatshirt.
Brooke immediately smiled.
“There you are.”
Natalie saw the broken cup.
“What happened?”
“Emma had another accident.”
Emma said nothing.
Brooke lifted the leather folder.
“I need your signature.”
Natalie frowned.
“On what?”
“Nothing complicated.”
Natalie opened it.
Five seconds later, all the color left her face.
“This says Noah and I give up the east cottage.”
Behind the hidden door, Dominic stopped breathing.
Brooke folded her arms.
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“My mother left that cottage to my son.”
“You don’t need it.”
“That’s not your decision.”
Brooke stepped closer.
“After Saturday, I’ll be running this household.”
Natalie looked at her.
“No, Brooke. You’ll be marrying my brother.”
Brooke’s voice dropped.
“Sign it.”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“No.”
Brooke’s sweet expression disappeared.
“Then you and your son should start packing.”
Emma whispered, “Brooke…”
“Stay out of this.”
Natalie stared at her.
“You’re threatening a nine-year-old boy?”
“I’m establishing boundaries.”
“No. You’re trying to steal from him.”
Brooke leaned forward.
“Sign it, Natalie, or by breakfast tomorrow, you and Noah are gone.”
Behind the wall, Dominic’s cuff link struck the wooden frame.
Click.
Brooke snapped her head toward the sound.
“What was that?”
Emma’s heart stopped.
Brooke walked toward the hidden door.
One step.
Two.
May you like
Three.
Her hand reached for the handle.
