Chapter 1
Alexander did not ask Veronica to explain herself while Sofia was still in the room.
That was deliberate.
He had spent most of his adult life around men who believed anger became authority if it was loud enough.
His daughter needed something different.
“Sofia.”
She looked up from inside his oversized suit jacket.
“Come here.”
She moved immediately.
Alexander crouched and looked at her hands.
Black polish had settled into the lines of her palms and beneath her fingernails. One knee was scraped from hitting the floor.
“What happened to your clothes?”
Sofia looked toward Veronica.
Alexander noticed.
“Look at me.”
Her eyes returned to him.
“Did you put these clothes on?”
Sofia shook her head.
“Who did?”
She whispered, “Veronica.”
Veronica exhaled sharply.
“For God’s sake, Alexander, she had destroyed the dress she was wearing.”
He did not turn.
“What dress?”
“The blue one.”
Sofia shook her head harder.
“No.”
Veronica stepped forward.
One bodyguard blocked her path without being told.
Her expression darkened.
Alexander gently took Sofia’s polishing cloth away.
“Where is your blue dress?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you spill something on it?”
“No.”
“Did you tear it?”
“No.”
Veronica laughed once.
“She’s four. She lies when she’s frightened.”
Alexander finally looked at her.
The room went silent.
“You put my daughter in torn clothes.”
“They were old clothes from the laundry room.”
“You put an apron on her.”
“She wanted to play.”
Sofia immediately said, “No.”
Veronica's eyes flashed toward the child.
Alexander saw it.
“Don’t look at her.”
Veronica turned back.
“You’re making this grotesque.”
Alexander glanced at the row of designer shoes scattered across the marble.
“You made her polish these?”
“One pair.”
“There are six pairs beside the stool.”
Veronica did not answer.
Alexander stood.
“Leave.”
Her mouth fell open.
“This is my home too.”
“No.”
“We are getting married in six weeks.”
“No.”
Her face tightened.
“You don’t end an engagement because a spoiled child was given a chore.”
Alexander pointed toward the front door.
“I just did.”
Veronica looked past him toward Sofia.
Something moved across her face.
Not sadness.
Not even anger.
Calculation.
Then fear.
Again.
Alexander noticed it for the second time.
He called his head of household security, Owen Mercer.
“Veronica leaves with personal essentials only. Everything else is inventoried and delivered through counsel.”
Veronica stared at him.
“You’re treating me like a thief.”
“I’m treating tonight like a scene I don’t understand yet.”
That changed her expression completely.
“What does that mean?”
Alexander looked toward the filthy clothes covering his daughter.
“It means I’m going to understand it before you come back through that door.”
Veronica left twelve minutes later.
Sofia did not wave goodbye.
Afterward, Alexander carried her upstairs.
His longtime house manager, Evelyn Shaw, was waiting outside Sofia’s bedroom.
The fifty-nine-year-old woman looked furious.
And ashamed.
Alexander stopped.
“Where were you?”
Evelyn looked at Sofia.
Then at him.
“Mrs. Hayes sent me and most of the household staff to the guest property this afternoon.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“She said the instruction came from you.”
May you like
It hadn’t.
And suddenly the torn clothes were no longer the only thing in the house that did not make sense.
