Chapter 2 - THE MASTER OF THE ESTATE

Nathaniel Ashford did not raise his voice. He never had to.

The billionaire technology founder stepped out from the shadows of the grand staircase, his presence instantly dropping the temperature in the room by ten degrees. He was a man carved from marble and ruthless ambition, wearing a bespoke charcoal suit that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders. His dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, were currently ablaze with a terrifying, contained fury. He walked through the crowd, and the wealthiest people in the city parted for him like the Red Sea.

"Nathaniel," Vanessa gasped, her hand finally dropping to her side. The haughty, venomous expression she had worn only a second ago vanished, replaced by a mask of injured innocence. She clutched the stained silk of her gown, her voice trembling with practiced vulnerability. "Darling, thank God you're here. This… this servant completely ruined my dress. She tripped on purpose and threw a tray of champagne right at me! And then this feral little brat came out of nowhere and started yelling."

Nathaniel did not look at his fiancée.

His piercing gaze was locked entirely on the floor, where Grace Carter was kneeling, desperately trying to shield her trembling three-year-old daughter from the stares of the elite. Grace’s cheek was a violent shade of crimson, a stark contrast to her pale, terrified face. She kept her eyes lowered, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"Grace," Nathaniel said softly. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shockwave through the room. The billionaire knew the housekeeper’s name.

Grace slowly looked up, her breath catching in her throat. "Mr. Ashford. I am so sorry. I slipped on a dropped napkin. I swear to you, I didn't do it on purpose. I will pack my things tonight."

"You will do no such thing," Nathaniel replied, his voice echoing with absolute finality.

He closed the distance between them and, to the absolute horror of the assembled senators, venture capitalists, and socialites, the master of the Ashford estate dropped to one knee on the hard marble floor. He didn't care about the spilled champagne soaking into his tailored trousers. He reached out, his large, warm hand gently cupping Grace’s chin, inspecting the swelling welt on her cheek.

Vanessa let out a strangled gasp. "Nathaniel! What are you doing? She’s a maid!"

"And you are a guest in my home," Nathaniel said softly, not breaking eye contact with Grace. "A guest who just assaulted my employee."

Lily, still fiercely clinging to her mother, peered at Nathaniel with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Are you the boss?" she sniffled.

Nathaniel’s expression softened. The cold, ruthless titan of industry looked at the little girl, and something behind his ribs—something that had been frozen for four years—suddenly cracked. He stared into Lily’s eyes. They were a striking, deep shade of emerald green.

The exact same shade as his own.

"Yes, little one," Nathaniel whispered, his voice suddenly thick with an emotion he couldn't identify. "I am the boss. And I promise you, no one will ever hurt your mommy again."

He stood up, towering over Vanessa, the tenderness vanishing, replaced by absolute wrath. "Marcus," Nathaniel called out.