Chapter 3 - The Boardroom and the Broom
By eight o'clock the following morning, the atmosphere at the Cole estate had completely transformed.
Two luxury vans pulled up to the main gates. A team of four professional nurses arrived to care for Maria, while a private catering crew set up breakfast in the cottage kitchen. A premier residential service team began deep-cleaning the mansion’s main halls.
In the cottage, Maria was resting comfortably, her color slowly returning. Elena sat on the living room rug, happily playing with a massive box of building blocks that Daniel had ordered via courier at six in the morning.
At 9:00 A.M. sharp, a sleek black Mercedes sedan pulled up the circular driveway of the main house.
Julian Thorne stepped out of the car. He wore a bespoke grey wool suit, leather driving gloves, and carried a leather briefcase. He adjusted his silk tie, looking around the manicured grounds with an air of smooth, arrogant authority.
Julian walked through the front doors, expecting the usual silence of the empty mansion.
Instead, he found Daniel Cole sitting on the grand velvet sofa in the main foyer, holding a cup of espresso. Standing behind Daniel was Dominic, Daniel’s head of corporate security—a broad, intimidating man built like a brick wall.
Julian paused, surprised to see Daniel. He quickly masked his shock with a warm, practiced smile.
“Mr. Cole!” Julian exclaimed smoothly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “What a delightful surprise! We didn't expect you back from Chicago until Thursday! Had I known, I would have had the kitchen staff prepare a welcome breakfast.”
Daniel didn't stand up. He didn't offer his hand. He simply took a slow sip of his espresso and set the cup down on the glass table with a soft clink.
“Where are the housekeepers, Julian?” Daniel asked flatly.
Julian blinked, his hand lingering awkwardly in the air before he slowly pulled it back. “The housekeepers? Ah, yes. As you know, the morning staff is currently attending to the east wing deep-clean. I keep them out of your sight so as not to disturb your privacy.”
“Is that so?” Daniel said, leaning back. “Because I walked the entire east wing an hour ago. There is no staff.”
Julian’s smile faltered slightly, though his composure remained intact. “Well, sir, today is their scheduled rotation day off. I ensure the schedule remains flexible—”
“Maria Torres was washing my dress shirts by hand yesterday,” Daniel interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, heavy with dangerous authority. “Her three-year-old daughter was standing barefoot on a bucket in cold water, trying to remove a stain because she thought her mother was going to be fired.”
Julian’s face went slightly pale, but he recovered quickly, offering a apologetic sigh. “Ah, Maria. I am so sorry you had to witness that, Mr. Cole. I have warned Maria repeatedly about involving her child in household chores. Maria is getting older, sir. She’s becoming forgetful and confused. In fact, I was planning to speak to you this week about replacing her with a more efficient service—”
SMACK.
Daniel slammed his palm onto the mahogany side table so hard the espresso cup rattled.
Dominic took a step forward, blocking the front exit.
Julian jumped back, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Daniel stood up slowly. At thirty-four, tall, broad-shouldered, and radiating an aura of absolute power, Daniel looked terrifying.
“Maria Torres has pneumonia, Julian,” Daniel said, every word dripping with lethal precision. “She has a fever of one hundred and three degrees because she has been doing the work of five people for four months while you diverted two hundred thousand dollars into Thorne Logistics Management.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. The color drained completely from his face. “Mr. Cole... I... that is a complete misunderstanding! The management firm handles sub-contractor allocations—”
Daniel opened a thick folder lying on the table and tossed it onto Julian’s polished shoes.
“Those are the wire transfers,” Daniel said coldly. “Every fake invoice, every forged signature, every dollar you stole while letting an elderly woman collapse from exhaustion in my home.”
Julian trembled, looking from the folder to the towering security chief behind him. “Daniel... please. We can resolve this privately. I can return the funds today! My reputation in New York society—”
“Your reputation is over, Julian,” Daniel said quietly. “Dominic, escort Mr. Thorne to his car. He has thirty minutes to pack his personal items from the manager’s office. If he steps foot on this property again, arrest him for trespassing.”
Julian grasped his briefcase tightly, his arrogant demeanor completely shattered. “You’re ruining my career over a maid?” he spat bitterly, dropping his polite mask. “She’s just staff! A hired hand!”
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Daniel walked up to Julian until their faces were inches apart.
“She is family,” Daniel whispered coldly. “And you are a parasite. Get off my land.”
