Chapter 2 - The Silent Plea
I held my breath as the small footsteps stopped right behind me. I didn't turn around. I couldn't risk the cameras catching me engaging with him. But then, I felt a tiny, hesitant tug on the hem of my maid’s apron.
I looked down. Leo was staring up at me. His eyes were a startling, piercing blue—the exact shade of the ocean just before a storm. They were beautiful, but they were completely devoid of light.
He didn't make a sound. He simply held up his stuffed rabbit. One of its button eyes was hanging by a single, frayed thread, dangerously close to falling off completely.
He was asking for help.
My heart shattered into a million pieces. The memory of my daughter, Mia, holding up her favorite torn blanket flashed behind my eyes. I had sewn it a hundred times. How could I turn away a grieving child asking for something so simple?
I crouched down, breaking the golden rule of the Thorne estate. I didn't speak. I knew better than to force verbal communication on a traumatized child. Instead, I slowly reached into my apron pocket and pulled out a small travel sewing kit I carried to fix my uniform.
I held up a needle and black thread, raising my eyebrows in a silent question.
Leo watched me cautiously, then slowly extended the rabbit toward me.
For the next ten minutes, we sat on the floor of the grand library. I expertly stitched the button eye back onto Mr. Barnaby, tying it off with a secure knot. I handed the rabbit back to him.
Leo took it, pulling it tightly against his chest. For a fraction of a second, the heavy tension in his small shoulders relaxed. He didn't smile, but he didn't run away either.
Suddenly, a cold, terrifying voice echoed from the library entrance.
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“What do you think you are doing?”
I snapped my head up. Standing in the doorway, blocking the light, was Julian Thorne. He was tall, dressed in a bespoke black suit, radiating absolute, suffocating danger. His eyes were locked on me, blazing with lethal fury.
