Chapter 2 – The Compass in the Coat

Julian stared at Eleanor, his sharp mind connecting the pieces at terrifying speed.

“Why would Arthur Sterling’s family crest be inside your father’s safe, Eleanor?” Julian asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Eleanor realized her mistake instantly. She clamped her mouth shut, looking frantically toward the staircase where her father, Marcus Croft, was already pushing his way through the stunned crowd.

“Julian, my boy, there has been a misunderstanding,” Marcus boomed, attempting his usual jovial tone, though his eyes were cold and reptilian. “The maid clearly stole that trinket from our estate. Arrest her immediately.”

“Do not tell me what to do in my own house, Marcus,” Julian snapped.

Julian turned his back on the billionaire and looked down at me. Without another word, his large, warm hand closed around mine.

“We are leaving,” he said to me.

Before anyone could stop us, Julian pulled me away from the center of the ballroom, dragging me through the sea of parted, whispering elites.

We walked down the long, dimly lit mahogany hallway toward his private study.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I had just declared war in front of the entire city. There was no going back.

Julian pushed open the heavy oak doors of his study and pulled me inside, locking the door firmly behind us with a loud, metallic click.

The room smelled of old paper and leather.

He let go of my hand and turned to face me. He looked exhausted, angry, and entirely captivating.

“Show me the locket,” he ordered.

I didn’t hesitate. I unclasped the silver chain and dropped it into his open palm.

Julian ran his thumb over the engraved shield.

“My father told me Arthur took his own life out of guilt,” Julian said quietly. “He told me you and your mother died shortly after.”

“My mother did,” I said, my throat tightening. “She died of a broken heart, working three jobs in a factory. But my father didn’t kill himself. He was framed.”

“By whom?”

“I spent the last two years scrubbing your floors to find that out,” I replied. “But now I know Marcus Croft had this locket. My father never took it off. If Marcus had it…”

“Then Marcus was there the night your father disappeared,” Julian finished, his eyes hardening.

He walked over to his massive oak desk and set the locket down.

“I proposed to you tonight because I wanted to blow up my life,” Julian admitted, looking out the dark window. “Eleanor’s father was attempting a hostile takeover of my board. The marriage was a trap to absorb my assets. I chose you because you were the only real person in that room.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Now,” Julian said, turning back to me, “I realize I chose the one woman who holds the detonator.”

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed from the heavy study door.

“Mr. Vance?” a small, frightened voice called out.

My breath caught.

“Leo,” I gasped.

Julian frowned. “Who is Leo?”

I rushed to the door and unlocked it.

Standing in the hallway was a seven-year-old boy in oversized flannel pajamas, rubbing his sleepy eyes. His messy brown hair stuck up in every direction.

“Mommy,” Leo mumbled, looking up at me. “The music was too loud. I couldn’t sleep in the staff quarters.”

I fell to my knees and pulled him into a tight hug, inhaling the scent of his baby shampoo. I was supposed to protect him from this world, not drag him into the center of it.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered. “Mommy’s right here.”

Julian stood perfectly still by the desk, watching us. I expected him to be furious that I had secretly kept a child in the staff wing.

Instead, Julian’s eyes were locked onto something Leo was holding.

“Clara,” Julian said, his voice entirely hollow. “What is your son holding?”

I pulled back from Leo.

Clutched in my little boy’s hand was an old, heavy brass compass.

“It’s just a toy,” I said quickly. “He found it in the gardens a few weeks ago.”

Julian walked slowly across the room and knelt down in front of Leo. He didn’t look angry. He looked devastated.

“May I see that, Leo?” Julian asked gently.

Leo looked at me for permission. I nodded slowly.

Leo handed the brass compass to the billionaire.

Julian turned it over. On the back, clearly engraved into the tarnished metal, were the initials: A.V.

“This isn’t a toy,” Julian whispered, looking up at me. “This is my father’s compass. He was holding it the night he suffered his fatal heart attack in the gardens.”

Julian swallowed hard.

“He lost it ten years ago. Long before you ever started working here. How did your son find it buried in the dirt?”