Chapter 2 - The Maid Who Saw Everything
By the next morning, Damian’s estate had changed.
It was subtle.
Almost invisible.
But he noticed.
Security guards moved differently.
Servants spoke in whispers.
Phones disappeared whenever he entered a room.
People who once looked him directly in the eye now avoided his gaze.
That was the power of perceived weakness.
Damian had spent years cultivating fear.
Now, for the first time, he understood what happened when fear disappeared.
People became careless.
He was rolled downstairs for breakfast.
Lena walked behind him.
Vivian sat at the table beside Damian’s uncle, Vincent Russo.
Vincent was the kind of man who smiled warmly while mentally counting how much money he could inherit from your death.
“Damian,” he said.
“Uncle.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.”
Vincent nodded sympathetically.
“That is understandable.”
Vivian reached across the table.
“You should rest.”
Damian looked at her.
“I’m resting permanently, apparently.”
Silence.
Vincent cleared his throat.
“What did the doctors say?”
“That recovery is unlikely.”
Vincent sighed.
“That’s tragic.”
Damian watched him.
“Tragic.”
“Yes.”
“Not inconvenient?”
Vincent’s face hardened for a fraction of a second.
“No.”
“Good.”
Breakfast continued.
But Damian barely ate.
He watched.
That was all he needed.
Who touched their phone.
Who looked at Vivian.
Who looked nervous.
Who suddenly wanted him to sign documents.
Three men approached him before lunch.
A financial adviser.
A family attorney.
And a banker.
All three had one thing in common.
They wanted his signature.
Damian smiled.
“No.”
The banker looked uncomfortable.
“This is merely a temporary restructuring.”
“No.”
“The accident has created uncertainty.”
“No.”
Vincent interrupted.
“Damian, be reasonable.”
Damian turned his wheelchair toward him.
“Why?”
Vincent frowned.
“Why what?”
“Why should I be reasonable?”
“Because we are family.”
Damian smiled coldly.
“Family is why I have lawyers.”
Vincent left.
Lena watched him.
Later that afternoon, she entered Damian’s office with fresh coffee.
“There was a man outside your study.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall. Gray coat. Scar near his chin.”
Damian's expression changed.
“Did he see you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He smiled.”
Damian went still.
“Anything else?”
“He asked if you were asleep.”
“And what did you say?”
“That I was busy.”
Damian looked at her.
“You lied.”
“I learned from you.”
He smiled.
For the first time since the accident, Damian almost laughed.
That evening, he tested his legs.
He waited until the house was silent.
Then he stood.
Slowly.
One hand against the table.
Then the other.
His knees held.
His legs were strong.
He walked three steps.
Then four.
Then eight.
He stopped in front of the mirror.
The man staring back at him looked tired.
Older.
Angrier.
He whispered to himself.
“Who tried to kill me?”
Behind him, the door opened.
Damian turned.
Lena froze.
She had seen him standing.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Damian said quietly, “You should leave.”
Lena shook her head.
“No.”
“Lena.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand what this means.”
“I understand exactly what it means.”
“Then you're in danger.”
“I was in danger the moment I learned your secret.”
He stared at her.
She stepped closer.
“Someone inside this house wants you dead.”
“Yes.”
“They believe you're helpless.”
“Yes.”
“They’re going to act soon.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Then don’t let them.”
Damian looked at her.
There was something different in her expression.
She wasn't looking at him like Vivian did.
She wasn't seeing a fortune.
She wasn't seeing a reputation.
She was seeing a man.
Just a man.
And that unsettled him more than anything.
“I need your help.”
“You have it.”
“Without questions?”
“No.”
She crossed her arms.
“I have a lot of questions.”
Damian nodded.
“Ask.”
“Why fake paralysis?”
“To catch a traitor.”
“Do you know who?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you suspect Vivian?”
He looked away.
“That’s not your concern.”
Lena's voice softened.
“It is now.”
Damian looked back at her.
Silence filled the room.
Then a security alarm sounded.
They both turned toward the hallway.
Lena whispered, “Someone entered the east wing.”
Damian immediately moved toward the door.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“I told you.”
She followed him.
They reached the east corridor.
A security guard was lying unconscious near the stairs.
Damian's expression became lethal.
Lena covered her mouth.
Then Damian saw it.
A small envelope taped beneath the guard’s belt.
He removed it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed the accident.
His SUV.
The concrete barrier.
The black pickup.
And written across the back in red ink were five words.
You should have died that night.
Damian stared at the photograph.
Then another note fell from the envelope.
Friday.
Lena looked over his shoulder.
“What happens Friday?”
May you like
Damian folded the paper.
“Now we find out.”
