Chapter 9
I gathered my household staff.
All of them.
Not a family meeting.
Staff.
The people who saw my house when I did not.
I asked one question.
“What else don’t I know?”
Uncomfortable silence.
Then the cook spoke.
Camille had changed Oliver’s meal schedule when I traveled.
A housekeeper said she removed Elise’s photographs from two rooms.
A driver said Camille canceled Nora’s evening transport repeatedly so she would remain available overnight.
Small details.
Each explainable alone.
Together, pattern.
Then an older maid said:
“Sir, everyone thought she had your permission.”
There.
My reputation used again.
Camille spoke with confidence.
Carried my ring.
Soon to carry my name.
Staff assumed resistance meant challenging me.
I had built a house where people obeyed hierarchy efficiently.
Someone simply stood close enough to borrow mine.
That failure was mine.
From then on, no fiancée or relative automatically controlled household staff.
No one altered Oliver’s food, sleep, caregiving, or access without clear agreement from me and his primary caregivers.
Boring.
Necessary.
Power should not become transferable through jewelry.
I also gave staff a direct route to Rafe and me for concerns involving children or vulnerable family members.
One cook smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Say it.”
She hesitated.
“This would have helped years ago.”
That hurt.
Meaning Camille was not the first problem.
Only the first I discovered loudly.
May you like
Good.
Discovery should improve more than one situation.
