Chapter 4 - A Confrontation in the Linen Room
Clare was folding crisp white sheets in the basement laundry when the heavy metal door clicked shut. She turned, expecting the head housekeeper, but found Victor Calder standing in the doorway, blocking the exit not with menace, but with an imposing, inescapable presence.
She dropped a pillowcase. "Mr. Calder. I told you, I'm sorry about yesterday. If it's about Maisie—"
"It's not about Maisie," Victor interrupted quietly. He stepped further into the room, his dark eyes searching her face. "It's about Julian."
The color drained completely from Clare's face. She gripped the edge of the folding table, her knuckles turning white. For a long, terrifying moment, the only sound was the low hum of the industrial dryers.
"You have no right to say his name," Clare whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of terror and long-suppressed fury. "You killed him. Your organization hunted him down like a dog for something he never did."
"I was told he was a thief," Victor said, his voice level, devoid of defensive anger. "I am beginning to learn that my people lied to me."
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Clare let out a harsh, bitter laugh, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "And what does that change? He's dead. My daughter grows up without a father, and I scrub floors in your mansion just to keep us fed. An apology won't bring him back."
"I am not offering an apology, Clare," Victor said, stepping closer. "I am offering the truth. And justice, if you are willing to help me find it."
