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Chapter 224
Chapter 224:
The sprawling, opulent halls of the Compton Estate were dead quiet. Heavy rain pounded against the mansion’s massive stained-glass windows.
Maria, the head housekeeper for the second floor, pushed her cleaning cart down the long, dimly lit corridor and stopped in front of the guest room at the very end of the hall. This was the room June had retreated to during the final, suffocating months of her marriage. Ever since June had left, Cole kept the door locked. Today was the mandatory monthly deep clean.
Maria unlocked the door and stepped inside. The air was stale and cold.
She got down on her hands and knees and pushed a long microfiber duster beneath the heavy antique mahogany bed frame, working toward the thick layer of dust near the baseboard. The duster struck something solid.
Maria frowned. She pressed her cheek against the Persian rug and reached her arm as far as she could into the dark gap between the floor and the wooden slats. Her fingertips brushed against something wrapped in soft fabric. She pinched it and pulled it out.
It was a small, elegant velvet jewelry box, coated in a thick layer of gray dust.
Maria sat back on her heels and wiped the lid clean with her apron. Curiosity got the better of her. She pressed the small brass latch and opened it.
𝗙о𝘭𝘭о𝘄 𝗎𝗌 𝗼𝘯
Inside, resting on a white satin cushion, was a white plastic stick — snapped violently in half. The broken edges were sharp and jagged.
Maria squinted in the dim light and gently lifted the top half. Her eyes focused on the small digital display window.
Two bright, unmistakable red lines stared back at her.
Her breath caught. Her eyes went wide. It was a positive pregnancy test.
Madam was pregnant? The thought struck her like a blow. She remembered that frantic night months ago — Madam Erickson being rushed out by paramedics, pale as a ghost. She must have dropped it in the chaos.
Maria’s hand began to shake. The velvet box slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.
At that exact moment, the heavy rhythm of leather dress shoes sounded in the hallway.
Cole had left the corporate office early. A blinding migraine was tearing through his skull — a persistent physical reminder of the frozen divorce proceedings and June’s absolute rejection. He was making his way toward the master suite when he noticed the guest room door standing wide open.
Dark irritation flared in his chest. He hated seeing that room. It reminded him of her absence.
He stopped in the doorway, about to bark an order at Maria to shut it. The words died in his throat.
His dark, bloodshot eyes locked onto the velvet box lying open on the rug, and the two pieces of broken white plastic resting beside it.
The air in the room turned thick as wet cement.
