Chapter 2 - THE GLASS FORTRESS AND THE SHADOW
The morning sun hit the Upper East Side with blinding, indifferent brilliance.
In the kitchen of the Buchanan mansion, Eleanor Brooks poured a cup of dark roast coffee and slid a warm pastry across the marble island toward Valerie, who had arrived for an early-morning shift before her regular cleaning job at the financial district.
“You didn't have to come back today, child,” Eleanor said, her eyes kind behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Buchanan left instructions that you could take the week off with full pay.”
“I don't take charity, Eleanor,” Valerie said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “Bills don’t pay themselves, and my mother’s medical supplies aren't free.”
Before Eleanor could reply, the kitchen doors swung open with a sharp, expensive snap.
Julianna Montgomery floated into the room as if the floorboards were honored to carry her weight. She wore a tailored Chanel tweed suit, her blonde hair styled into a flawless blowout, and diamond earrings that caught the overhead light like ice crystals. Julianna was three weeks away from becoming Mrs. Franklin Buchanan, the crown jewel of Upper East Side society, and she treated the mansion like a stage she was rehearsing for.
She stopped short when she saw Valerie leaning against the counter in her cleaning uniform.
“What is she still doing here?” Julianna’s voice was crisp, cold, and dripping with disdain. She looked at Eleanor as if the housekeeper had tracked mud across the Persian rugs. “Franklin told me the police resolved the trespassing issue with this... help yesterday.”
Valerie didn’t flinch. She set her coffee cup down with a soft clink.
“I didn't trespass, Miss Montgomery. I brought your fiancé’s lost daughters back from the middle of Manhattan traffic,” Valerie said calmly, her gaze locked onto Julianna’s.
Julianna’s eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Save your working-class dramatics for someone who cares. Franklin is too softhearted; he rewards every stray that wanders onto his property. But let’s get one thing straight: when we are married next month, this house will be run according to my standards. That means staff stay downstairs, out of sight, and out of my way.”
Before Valerie could respond, the kitchen doorway filled with a heavy, oppressive presence.
Franklin stood there, his coat over his arm, having overheard every word. His face was carved from granite.
“Julianna,” Franklin said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register that made even Julianna’s breath catch. “Valerie didn't wander onto this property. She is the only reason my daughters are alive today. If you ever speak to her—or anyone else in this house—with that kind of disrespect again, you won't have to worry about running this household, because there won't be a wedding to plan.”
Julianna’s face flushed bright red under her foundation. She forced a brittle, high-society laugh, stepping up to Franklin and laying a manicured hand on his lapel.
“Darling, you’re overreacting,” Julianna purred, switching her tone instantly to sweet manipulation. “I’m just stressed about the wedding logistics. The society gala next week, the press, your mother’s expectations... it’s a lot. Of course I’m grateful to the young woman.”
Franklin didn't smile. He gently removed her hand from his chest. “Car’s waiting, Julianna. I’ll see you at the office.”
As Julianna swept out of the room, throwing one venomous glare at Valerie, Franklin lingered for a second. He looked at Valerie, his gray eyes troubled.
May you like
“I’m sorry about that,” Franklin said quietly.
“Don’t be, Mr. Buchanan,” Valerie said, picking up her cleaning supplies bucket. “You’re the one marrying her.”
