Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Room
“Security! Throw this rat into the street!” Vivian commanded, waving her diamond-ringed hand dismissively.
Two massive security guards in sharp black suits rushed forward.
They reached out to grab Charlotte’s arms.
“Don't touch her.”
The voice was not loud, but it cut through the murmurs of the lobby like a steel blade.
The entire room froze.
Even Vivian stepped back, the arrogant sneer vanishing from her face, replaced by instant submission.
A man stepped out from the VIP lounge.
Alexander Sterling. (No relation to Vivian’s adoptive father, much to Richard's frustration).
Alexander was the CEO of Vanguard Holdings, a ruthless venture capital firm that owned half the city.
He was intimidatingly tall, dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit that radiated immense power and wealth.
His sharp jawline was set in stone, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto Charlotte.
He walked slowly across the marble floor.
The crowd parted for him as if he were royalty.
Vivian quickly adjusted her dress, a desperate, flirtatious smile spreading across her face.
“Mr. Sterling! I am so sorry you had to witness this,” Vivian purred, batting her eyelashes. “This crazy maid tried to steal from my suite. I was just having her removed.”
Alexander didn't even look at Vivian.
He stopped right in front of Charlotte.
He looked down at her scraped hands, the bruise on her cheek, and the defiance in her posture.
He noticed the way she didn't tremble.
He noticed that despite her ragged clothes, she held her chin high, like a queen observing her court.
“Is it true?” Alexander asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “Did you steal from her?”
Charlotte looked up, meeting the gaze of the most feared man in the financial world.
She didn't blink.
“I only take what belongs to me,” Charlotte said quietly.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
There was a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. Recognition? Amusement? Respect?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pure white silk handkerchief.
He extended his hand, offering it to her.
The guests gasped. Alexander Sterling, the icy billionaire who never showed mercy, was offering help to a beggar?
Charlotte stared at the handkerchief.
Then, she looked back into his eyes.
“Keep it,” she whispered. “I won't be bleeding for long.”
She turned away, ignoring the stunned guards, and walked herself out of the grand revolving doors.
Alexander stood in the lobby, watching her disappear into the busy street.
A faint, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth.
He pulled out his phone and dialed his head of intelligence.
“Find out everything about the maid who was just fired from the Solmere,” he ordered.
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He knew a predator when he saw one.
And that girl was not a victim.
