Chapter 3 - The Thirty-Minute CountdownJulian’s eyes narrowed into sharp, lethal slits. He stepped toward Maya, his presence instantly shifting from polished executive to dangerous predator.
"How long have you been standing there?" Julian demanded, his voice dropping into a low, threatening register.
Maya did not flinch. She kept her eyes lowered, her expression blank, and her body relaxed in the trained posture of an obedient household servant.
"I have been wiping down the corridor wood trim for the past fifteen minutes, Mr. Mercer," Maya said smoothly, her voice calm, even, and unhurried. "Mrs. Alvarez asked the third-floor team to ensure all dust was removed before the photographers take upstairs gallery shots."
Vanessa stepped up beside Julian, her eyes scanning Maya with intense suspicion. "Did you hear what we were discussing in the library?"
Maya raised her head, looking directly at Vanessa with a confused, polite smile. "I heard you discussing the timing of the formal toast and the arrival of the financial press, Ms. Sinclair. Should I inform the kitchen to prepare the second champagne tower now?"
Vanessa stared at her for five agonizing seconds, searching Maya’s face for any sign of deception, fear, or recognition.
Maya’s background as a former elementary school teacher saved her. She had spent years mastering the calm, unreadable face required when managing classrooms of energetic children—a face that revealed nothing unless she chose to show it.
Julian let out a soft breath, his posture relaxing slightly. "Go back to the kitchen, maid. And stay on the ground floor for the rest of the evening."
"Yes, Mr. Mercer," Maya said with a polite nod. She tucked her polishing cloth into her apron, picked up her tray, and walked calmly down the corridor toward the service stairs.
She did not accelerate her pace until she pushed through the heavy double doors into the quiet service stairwell.
Once inside, her knees buckled. She leaned against the cold brick wall, gasping for air as sweat broke out across her forehead.
Thirty minutes.
The formal engagement toast and merger signing were scheduled to take place on the grand ballroom balcony in less than thirty minutes.
Adrien was walking into a trap meticulously crafted by his fiancée and his best friend—a trap designed to bankrupt his family, destroy his dying father’s legacy, and humiliate him in front of the world’s financial elite.
Maya ran down the stairs, her mind racing at lightning speed.
She couldn't just go to the police. She had no physical tape recordings, no hard documents—only the overheard conversation of two powerful billionaires who would instantly deny everything and have her thrown off the property for slander.
She couldn't tell the board members. They were already biased in favor of the Sinclair merger and viewed household staff as invisible manual laborers.
She had to tell Adrien directly.
Maya reached the ground floor service corridor, running past surprised catering staff until she reached the private prep room near the grand ballroom stairs.
Elena Alvarez was standing near the door, holding a master schedule clipboard.
"Maya!" Elena scolded sharply, taking her by the arm. "Where have you been? The formal procession is starting in twenty minutes! I need you at the head of the champagne distribution team!"
"Elena," Maya gasped, her hands clutching the older woman’s sleeves. "I need to speak to Adrien. Right now. Privately."
Elena’s face hardened into deep disapproval. "Have you lost your mind? Mr. Whitmore is in the private waiting suite with his father and Mr. Sinclair! No household staff is permitted anywhere near that wing until—"
"Elena, listen to me!" Maya whispered urgently, her eyes blazing with a desperate, terrifying intensity. "Julian Mercer and Vanessa Sinclair are sabotaging the company. They forged the merger addendums. They are going to bankrupt the Whitmore family tonight. If Adrien signs those papers on the balcony, everything Arthur Whitmore built is gone!"
Elena stared at Maya. For three seconds, she looked as if she were about to call security. But then she looked into Maya's eyes—eyes she had known for two years, eyes belonging to a woman who had never lied, never complained, and never sought drama.
Elena’s expression shifted from anger to grave, solemn concern. "Are you hundred percent certain of what you heard?"
"I heard them discussing the Caymans offshore shell account," Maya said, her voice shaking with conviction. "I heard them laughing about destroying Adrien's reputation. Elena, please. You've served this family for thirty years. You know I would never invent this."
Elena looked toward the grand ballroom, where Harrison Sinclair was currently laughing with board members near the stage.
"The private waiting suite is guarded by Sinclair’s personal security detail," Elena said quickly, her voice dropping into a low murmur. "They won't let a maid through the door."
"Then how do I reach him?" Maya begged.
Elena pulled a silver master keycard from her jacket pocket and pressed it into Maya’s palm.
"The service dumbwaiter behind the primary pantry leads directly into the private study adjoining the waiting suite," Elena said, her voice tight with risk. "It’s meant for late-night tea service. It drops behind the wooden bookshelf in Adrien's private room. Go now. If anyone catches you, I’ll tell them I sent you to replace the crystal decanters."
May you like
Maya squeezed Elena's hand with profound gratitude. "Thank you, Elena."
"Save him, Maya," Elena whispered softly. "Save Arthur's boy."
