Chapter 2 - THE SCENT OF ROSES
David Vance stood perfectly still.
He was a man who commanded boardrooms and construction sites across Texas.
He didn't yell.
He didn't panic.
He just waited for an answer.
Victoria stared at the oily streak on the marble.
Her flawless complexion paled.
“I… I didn’t see it,” she stammered.
Her voice had lost all its previous sharpness.
“I was just so shocked to see Clara acting recklessly with Leo.”
David looked at the empty stroller.
Then at Leo, who was still burying his face in my neck.
“Recklessly,” David repeated.
His tone was completely flat.
“She pulled the brake. The tires left skid marks, Victoria.”
He pointed to the faint black smudges on the white marble.
“Those marks are moving backward. Away from the stairs.”
Victoria swallowed hard.
“David, darling. It all happened so fast. She’s just a maid. She clearly tracked something in on her shoes.”
I didn’t say a word.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head again.
Tell the truth once and stand in it.
David finally turned his eyes to me.
“Clara. Are you hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“Is Leo hurt?”
“No, sir. Just scared.”
David nodded slowly.
He looked over his shoulder at the security guard holding the earpiece.
“Marcus.”
The tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward.
Marcus had been David’s head of security for a year.
“Yes, Mr. Vance?”
“Pull the foyer security footage. I want to see exactly how that oil got on my floor.”
Victoria’s diamond earrings trembled as she flinched.
It was a tiny movement.
But I saw it.
Marcus tapped his earpiece.
He looked down at his phone.
Then he looked back up at David.
“Sir, the foyer cameras are offline.”
David’s brow furrowed.
“Offline? Since when?”
“Since last night. We had a brief power surge during the storm. The main server must not have reconnected.”
Victoria let out a breath.
It wasn't a sigh of frustration.
It was a sigh of relief.
“Well,” Victoria said, her confidence returning. “It’s a terrible accident. But Clara still needs to be let go. She’s a liability, David.”
David looked at her.
“No one is being let go today.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened.
“David—”
“I said, no one is being let go.”
He reached out and gently stroked Leo’s head.
“Take him to the nursery, Clara. Take the rest of the morning off.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turned and walked toward the grand staircase.
As I passed Victoria, she leaned in.
Her perfume washed over me.
A heavy, expensive scent.
Moroccan rose.
“This isn't over,” she whispered, so quietly only I could hear.
I kept walking.
I carried Leo upstairs to the nursery and laid him in his crib.
He fell asleep within minutes, his tiny chest rising and falling safely.
I walked back out into the second-floor hallway.
I needed to clean up the stroller.
When I reached the top of the stairs, a maintenance worker was already wiping away the oil.
I knelt down to grab the stroller handle.
As I did, the scent hit me again.
It wasn't olive oil.
It wasn't floor wax.
It was Moroccan rose.
Victoria’s custom bath oil.
I froze.
I looked down at the marble step.
Tucked into the corner of the brass railing, stuck to the edge of the oily residue, was a tiny object.
I reached out and picked it up.
It was a silver charm.
Shaped like a tiny padlock.
I knew exactly where it came from.
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Victoria wore a silver charm bracelet every single day.
And the padlock charm was officially missing.
