Chapter 10

The Vane estate did not welcome Elena; it processed her. The transition from her father’s crumbling townhouse to this limestone fortress had been swift, orchestrated by the same legal firm that had dismantled her life forty-eight hours ago. In the master suite, the air tasted of ozone and expensive sterility. Elena stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, her hands clasped tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. She wasn’t looking at the manicured sprawl of the gardens; she was looking for the safe.

Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, moved through the room with the clinical efficiency of a coroner. She was currently inventorying Elena’s suitcase, her gloved fingers lifting a silk blouse as if it were a suspicious piece of evidence.

"The Vane family policy requires all personal effects to be cataloged for insurance and security purposes, Ms. Thorne," Gable said, her voice devoid of inflection. She pulled a small, worn notebook from Elena’s vanity—the one that had belonged to her father.

Elena moved faster than she intended, intercepting the woman’s wrist. "That stays with me. It’s personal."

"Everything is company property now, Ms. Thorne. You signed the transfer of agency. That includes your correspondence, your digital footprint, and your sentimental clutter."

Before Elena could retort, the heavy mahogany door clicked open. Julian Vane entered, his presence shifting the room’s oxygen. He didn't look at the housekeeper; he looked at Elena, his gaze tracing the tension in her jaw.

"Leave us, Mrs. Gable," Julian said. As the housekeeper retreated, he walked toward the vanity, picking up the notebook. He didn't open it. He simply held it, a silent reminder that he now held the keys to her history. "You’re looking for the wall safe behind the portrait of th

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