Chapter 6 - The Countdown
The final week before the Whitmore gala transformed the estate into an armed camp of event planners, caterers, and lighting technicians. Marquees were erected on the lawn, custom ice sculptures were delivered in refrigerated trucks, and armed private security guards hired by the Sterling family began patrolling the perimeter fences with German Shepherds.
Vanessa walked through the mansion like a queen inspecting her conquered provinces. She refused to speak to Naomi, looking right through her as if she were a ghost haunting the corridors.
Naomi didn't mind. She continued her routine with quiet dedication, polishing the brass knockers on the front doors, changing the linens in the guest suites, and ensuring that the household ran with clockwork precision.
Yet, something had shifted between her and Ethan. They rarely spoke—a passing nod in the hallway, a quiet exchange of cups in the kitchen after midnight—but the silence between them was charged with a mutual understanding that terrified Vanessa more than any open confrontation could have.
Two days before the gala, Vanessa cornered Ethan in his study while he was reviewing architectural blueprints.
“She’s still here,” Vanessa said, her voice shaking with suppressed fury. “Why is she still here, Ethan? Every time I see her standing in the hall, I feel like she’s mocking me.”
“She’s part of the household staff, Vane,” Ethan said without looking up from his blueprints. “And her contract runs through the end of the month. She stays until the gala is over.”
“If she’s working the gala, I won’t walk down the grand staircase,” Vanessa hissed. “Choose, Ethan. Me or the maid.”
Ethan slowly lowered his pen. He looked at Vanessa—really looked at her—not as the image she projected to the society columns, but as the person she truly was: demanding, insecure, and utterly incapable of empathy.
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“That’s a dangerous game, Vanessa,” Ethan said quietly. “Giving ultimatums you might not win.”
Vanessa paled, her eyes narrowing into slits. She didn’t answer. She turned and walked out, but the look she gave him promised a reckoning that would dwarf any social scandal Boston had seen in a decade.
