Chapter 7

The east wing sitting room was a private sanctuary, far removed from the cold grandeur of the dining hall. The walls were lined with dark oak bookshelves, and a fire crackled warmly in the massive stone hearth, casting a soothing, golden light over the leather furniture.

Alexander sat on a plush sofa, holding the sleeping Emily securely against his chest. The little girl had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her breathing deep and even.

Anna sat nervously on the edge of an armchair opposite him. She had been instructed to remove the oversized shoes, and her bare feet rested awkwardly on a plush footstool. The small, bloody bandage wrapped around her heel was a stark contrast to her pristine black and white maid’s uniform. She kept her eyes averted, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace, acutely aware of the powerful man watching her from the sofa.

The heavy double doors opened, and Dr. Evans, the family’s private physician, hurried into the room. He carried a sleek black medical bag and looked visibly tense, having undoubtedly heard rumors of the explosive confrontation in the dining room.

“Mr. Hayes,” the doctor greeted, bowing his head slightly. He glanced at the sleeping child, then at the maid. “Who requires attention, sir?”

“The child is fine,” Alexander said quietly, ensuring his deep voice didn’t wake Emily. He gestured toward Anna. “Take care of her heel. She stepped on broken glass.”

“Of course, sir,” Dr. Evans replied, quickly moving to kneel before Anna. He opened his bag and pulled out a sterile kit and a pair of scissors.

Anna flinched slightly as the doctor carefully snipped away the makeshift bandage she had applied earlier. The fabric was stuck to the wound, and peeling it back revealed a deep, jagged laceration across the tender skin of her heel. The glass had cut deeply.

Alexander watched the procedure with cold, clinical focus. His sharp eyes narrowed as he saw the severity of the cut.

“It’s quite deep,” Dr. Evans murmured, examining the wound under a small penlight. “There don’t appear to be any glass fragments remaining, but it will definitely require sutures to heal properly. I’ll need to administer a local anesthetic.”

“Do whatever is necessary,” Alexander instructed. “Make sure she feels no pain.”

Anna bit her lip, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair as the doctor prepared the injection. “I’m fine, really. It just stings a little.”

“You are bleeding on my rug, Anna,” Alexander said, his tone lacking any true reprimand. It was simply an observation. “Let the doctor work.”

Anna fell silent, watching as Dr. Evans quickly and efficiently numbed the area and began stitching the wound. Despite the anesthetic, the pressure of the needle pulling through her skin made her shudder.

Alexander didn’t look away. He observed the quiet strength in the young woman’s face. She didn’t complain, didn’t cry out. She possessed a quiet resilience that deeply fascinated him.

“How long have you worked in this house, Anna?” Alexander asked suddenly, breaking the quiet tension in the room.

Anna looked up, surprised by the direct question. She met his cold, penetrating eyes, finding them less intimidating in the warm firelight.

“Six months, sir,” Anna replied softly. “I was hired by the previous head housekeeper.”

“Six months,” Alexander repeated thoughtfully. “And in that time, have you witnessed any other incidents regarding my daughter?”

Anna hesitated. She knew the danger of speaking against the woman who had just been violently exiled, but she also remembered the terror in Emily’s eyes earlier that evening. She decided to trust the man holding the child.

“Ms. Blake… she was often very strict when you were not present, sir,” Anna chose her words carefully. “She frequently dismissed the nanny and took over Emily’s schedule. There was a lot of yelling behind closed doors. Emily was always very quiet after Ms. Blake spent time with her.”

Alexander’s jaw tightened. He gently stroked his daughter’s back. “And you said nothing.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but Anna felt the weight of her silence. “I am a maid, Mr. Hayes. If I had spoken against your fiancée, she would have fired me. I thought… I thought it was better to stay and try to run interference when I could. Like tonight.”

“You did the right thing,” Alexander murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You protected her when I was blind to the threat in my own home.”

Dr. Evans finished tying off the final suture and began wrapping a clean, thick bandage around Anna’s heel. “Keep weight off it for a few days, Miss Collins. Keep it clean and dry. I’ll come back to remove the stitches next week.”

“Leave us,” Alexander ordered the physician.

Dr. Evans packed his bag swiftly and hurried out of the room, leaving the Mafia boss and the barefoot housemaid entirely alone with the sleeping child.

>>Chapter 8