Chapter 4 - Down the Forbidden Stairs
The heavy wooden door at the top of the basement stairs rattled loudly before being shoved open with a heavy thud.
“Brielle! Open this door right now, you pathetic little thief!” Eleanor Vance’s voice echoed down the stairwell like a whip cracking against stone.
Marcus followed close behind, his boots clattering against the metal rungs. “You’re done, Brielle! You’ve lost your job, you’ve lost your kid, and you’re going to find out what happens when you mess with the Vance family!”
Rochelle lingered near the top of the stairs, peering down with a look of smug anticipation, ready to watch the destruction of the girl she had despised for months.
Down in the office, the noise was impossible to ignore. Elodie stirred against Everett’s chest, letting out a soft, whimpering sigh. Her tiny brow furrowed, disturbed by the harsh vibrations rolling down the corridor.
Everett Calloway’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure ice.
Without breaking his gaze, he placed a warm, steady hand over Elodie’s tiny ear to shield her from the noise. Then, he looked at Brielle, who was trembling so hard she had to lean against the edge of a mahogany bookcase to keep from collapsing.
“Do you trust me, Brielle?” Everett asked, his voice steady and low.
“I… I don’t even know you, Mr. Calloway,” Brielle whispered honestly. “Everyone upstairs says you’re ruthless. They say you fire people without a second thought.”
“I am ruthless,” Everett agreed without hesitation. “Especially when incompetent managers and toxic relatives think they can trample over human decency inside my building. Step behind my desk. Let me handle this.”
Before Brielle could answer, the office door was wrenched wide open.
Marcus burst into the room, his face flushed with righteous arrogance, with Eleanor stalking in right behind him like an aristocratic vulture.
“There you are!” Marcus barked, pointing an accusing finger at Brielle. Then his eyes drifted toward the man sitting in the leather chair.
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks. The words caught in his throat.
Eleanor, pushing past her son to deliver a stinging verbal blow, froze as well. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
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Sitting in the private, forbidden office of Harbor & Ash—holding the eight-month-old child they had come to steal—was not a frazzled restaurant worker or a terrified young mother alone.
It was Everett Calloway, the billionaire majority stakeholder of the entire restaurant conglomerate, holding little Elodie as if she were the most precious treasure on earth.
