Chapter 4 - BREADCRUMBS IN THE PANTRY
By noon, Adrian had used his master keycard—kept hidden in a waterproof pouch built into his coat—to access the secondary servants' quarters in the basement.
Dressed in a spare navy maintenance jumpsuit he found in the boiler room, his face smudged with dark grease to disguise his high-born features, he blended seamlessly with the outside contractors hired to service the mansion's HVAC system.
He slipped into the main kitchen pantry just as the lunch rush was winding down.
Grace stood near the large stainless steel prep counter, wrapping leftover pastries in foil. Tears glistened in her eyes, though she wiped them away quickly with the back of her apron whenever someone walked past.
Standing over her was Mrs. Higgins, the stern, iron-fisted head housekeeper whom Julian Sterling had recently promoted to enforce his draconian rules.
"You were seen at the gate, Grace," Mrs. Higgins said, her voice sharp as a razor. "Victor reported your insubordination directly to Mr. Sterling. Giving company property to trespassers!"
"It was an apple, Mrs. Higgins," Grace said softly, keeping her head down as she worked. "He was an old man, shivering in the cold. It cost the estate nothing."
"It costs this estate order!" Mrs. Higgins snapped. "Mr. Sterling has placed you on immediate notice. One more infraction today, and your employment is terminated without severance or health insurance benefits."
Mrs. Higgins spun on her heel and marched out of the pantry, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.
Grace let out a shaky breath, leaning against the steel counter as a single tear escaped and trickled down her cheek.
Adrian stepped out from behind the dry-goods shelving, carrying a toolbox in his hand. He kept his head lowered, speaking in a low, muffled tone.
"She’s hard on you," Adrian said quietly.
Grace startled, wiping her face quickly and adjusting her apron. "Oh... I didn't see you there. Are you here for the refrigerator maintenance?"
"Yes," Adrian replied, stepping closer under the dim pantry lights. "I overheard. It seems cruel to threaten a person's livelihood over a gesture of mercy."
Grace offered a sad, weary smile. "This house used to be different, you know. Before Mr. Whitmore disappeared two days ago. He was strict, and everyone was terrified of making a mistake around him, but he was fair. Now... Mr. Sterling is running things, and it feels like the air has gone sour."
Adrian paused, looking at her intently. "You think Mr. Whitmore was fair?"
"He built this place," Grace said softly, looking out the small pantry window toward the gardens. "He paid high wages, and he funded the local children's hospital where my brother gets treatment. People said he was cold and heartless, but I think he was just lonely. He built high walls to keep the world out, but he forgot that walls keep you trapped inside, too."
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Adrian felt a sharp, unexpected pang in his chest. In all his years of wealth, surrounded by sycophants, board members, and lovers who sought his fortune, no one had ever described him as lonely.
And yet, this twenty-four-year-old maid, earning minimum wage, had seen straight through his armor.
