Chapter 1 - The Crimson StainThe Sterling estate stood above the Newport coastline like a monument to money.
White stone walls rose against the blue Atlantic. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the afternoon sun, while a private yacht rested below in the harbor, the American flag snapping lazily in the ocean wind.
Inside, everything was immaculate.
Everything except the enormous white wool rug.
Clara knelt on it with trembling hands.
A pool of expensive red wine spread beneath the shattered remains of a crystal glass. Tiny fragments glittered around her knees like shards of ice.
She was twenty-five, exhausted, and trying desperately not to cry.
The bruise across her cheek had turned a deep purple. A small cut marked the corner of her mouth. Her blue-and-white maid uniform was stained with wine.
She had learned one rule during her six months at Sterling House:
Never make eye contact.
Never ask questions.
Never complain.
And above all—
Never challenge Eleanor Sterling.
Clara reached for another piece of glass.
Her fingers shook.
Then the massive oak doors opened.
A man stepped inside.
He was thirty-five, tall, controlled, and dressed in a light-gray overcoat. A battered brown leather duffel hung from his left hand.
He stopped.
His eyes moved across the room.
The wine.
The broken glass.
The frightened maid.
The bruise on her face.
Something changed in his expression.
He dropped the duffel.
The heavy bag struck the hardwood floor with a dull thud.
Then he walked toward Clara.
“Who did this to you?”
Clara froze.
For six months, nobody had asked.
Nobody had cared.
She opened her mouth.
No sound came.
Then footsteps echoed from the grand staircase.
Slow.
Elegant.
Deliberate.
May you like
Eleanor Sterling was coming.
And she was smiling.
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