Chapter 21 Fuck Family
Aiden
"We checked every internal camera feed, sir. There was a deliberate glitch, a momentary obscuring of the lens, on the second floor, facing Mr. Aiden's suite. Someone knows the routine, and they know the blind spots." Daron Said. He didn't look at any of us. He was a machine built for bad news.
My blood ran cold. Someone had been watching.
"The items left in the room were analyzed," Daron continued. "The substance on the fabric was a chemical dye, not blood. Crucially, the fabric itself is a replica. It is not the exact custom lining of Mr. Aiden's original coat, but an imitation. A perfect one."
The word "imitation" felt like a bullet. Only a handful of people knew the exact texture and shade of that lining, and Caleb, who helped with the initial cover-up, was standing three feet away.
He was there the night it happened. I didn’t even know how he got there. When I managed to maneuver the bike to a stop without falling, I looked back and he was standing over the victim. He told me to run that he would handle everything. He was my big brother, more experienced, and I trusted him.
"This was not the victim's family, sir. We looked up her background and her only family was a boy who left the city shortly after the court case," Daron pointed out.
The air in Father’s office was so thick I could practically chew it. I stood there, stomach churning with expensive whiskey and sheer panic, while Daron, the emotionless fixer, stood beside us.
"This was a calculated attack. Someone is close enough to know the house's surveillance and the details of the original cover-up. The culprit is not an outsider. The culprit is a member of this family, or someone with full access." He concluded.
Malcolm slammed his fist on the desk. "Which one of you brought the poison inside this house?“ He thundered, looking between Jacob and me. “ I said, which one of you? You both opened this house to strangers the moment you started throwing parties whenever I travel for business. This right here is the repercussion of your irresponsibility.”
The whiskey, the fear, and the accusation instantly crystallized into one single target. I spun on Caleb, my body shaking with justified rage.
"It's him! It has to be you, Caleb!" I yelled, pointing a shaking finger. "You always hated me for being Lancaster’s rightful heir! You hate that I have everything you want! Of course mother gave everything to Jacob and me.”
Caleb met my gaze with his usual icy calm. "Don't be a fool, Aiden. Your own recklessness made this inevitable. You hire thugs and cause scenes, but you're too cowardly to admit your failures."
"Cowardly?" I snarled, rage burning through the fear. "You're the coward! You’ve always hated me! You hate that she chose me over you, didn't you? That's what this is about! The inheritance! You're trying to destroy me before the final will is read, aren't you?"
The reference to the past betrayal hit him. I saw his composure crack.
"You think you're worth destroying, Aiden?" Caleb spat, his voice low and shaking. "You're a stain on this family name that I've spent six years trying to cover up! I wouldn't risk this family's existence for your pathetic life!"
I lost it. I wasn't listening. I lunged forward, throwing my body at him, my arm swinging for his jaw.
Daron moved with the sickening speed of a professional. His iron grip clamped around my arm, and his other hand seized Caleb’s shoulder. He yanked us apart and held us there, breathing hard, trembling with hatred.
"Enough!" Father roared. "You will leave this office now. And you will not touch each other again. If this secret comes out, I will ruin both of you. Get out."
Daron released us. I didn't look at Caleb again. I stumbled out of the office, breathing hard, convinced that my own brother was trying to murder me.
I didn't stop until I was safely in the gallery. I leaned my forehead against the cool marble wall. My life was collapsing, and the traitor was walking the halls beside me.
I needed a counter-move, but my mind kept coming back to one name: Elsie.
Lena was going to take her into my room tonight to look through the wardrobe. My room, the exact site of the attack.
If Caleb was behind this, he was using a disposable staff member, someone easily manipulated. Could she be his pawn?
I remembered her quiet movements, her dark, watchful eyes. But then I remembered the raw, intense curiosity I felt every time I looked at her. She was too pretty, too soft, too watchable to be an effective spy.
Somehow, the stupid maid occupies my every thought even when I try to brush the feeling aside. The taste of her lips, her silky-smooth skin, and fuck, those tits. I’m going to fuck them. Slide my cock in between her breasts while she pushes them up for me and sucks my fat fucking cock.
I walked toward the staff quarters, drawn by a desperate, selfish need for a distraction, and a final test.
I found her in the brightly lit, sterile laundry room, folding towels.
She looked up, startled, then immediately dropped her head. "Mr. Aiden. I didn't see you."
"I know," I said, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind me. "You're very good at not being seen."
I walked closer to the folding table. "Were you going up to my room later?" I asked, my voice low. "With Lena."
She kept her eyes down. "Yes, sir. Miss Lena was very kind to offer me a dress for the party tomorrow."
I leaned closer across the table. "You know, Caleb will be there tomorrow night," I said, watching her face for a reaction. "My brother. He’ll be watching every move you make."
She finally looked up. Her dark eyes were wide, but there was no fear, just a genuine curiosity. “Sir, you are drunk”
“So you think I’m not making sense? You also think I’m stupid, don’t you?” I asked, laughing hysterically.
"I never said that sir. But why would Jacob be watching me, Mr. Aiden?" she asked simply.
"Because he watches everything," I murmured, my paranoia warring with my desire. "He watches the staff. He watches me. And I've been watching you."
"You're very observant," she replied softly, stacking the last towel.
"I notice you," I corrected, my voice barely audible. "I notice how you move through the house like a ghost." My terror was screaming traitor, but my body was desperate for a connection. I reached out and gently touched her knuckles where they rested on the table.
She didn't flinch. She just held my gaze, her breath catching slightly. I felt a definite return of that same, intense heat. I still had an interest in her. More than interest. I needed her focus to be on me.
"I need you to tell me something, Elsie," I whispered, the fear and the attraction fighting for dominance. "Are you working for Caleb?"
Her face didn't betray her. She just gave me a small, sad smile, weighted with a sincerity that was startling.
"I am working for myself, Mr. Aiden," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I need this job.” She looked at my hand still resting on hers. And I don't need anyone's trouble, sir. Especially not yours or Mr. Caleb's. I am just a maid."
The intensity in her eyes, the sadness, the quiet desperation, crushed my paranoia. She had to be telling the truth. She was too vulnerable.
I pulled my hand back, feeling foolish, but strangely relieved. She wasn't the traitor.
“My brother hates me. My father is preparing to disown me. And I’m standing here, talking to a maid I can’t stop thinking about, when I should be saving my own life."
The confession hung in the air, desperate and honest. I needed a connection, a moment of sanity, or maybe just a distraction from the terror of Caleb's betrayal. I moved fast, driven by the panic and the whiskey.
I crossed the small space, gripping her shoulders. I lowered my head, aiming for her mouth, needing to feel something real, something that wasn't panic.
Her reaction was instant, cold, and electric.
As my lips were about to touch hers, she brought her hands up sharply and placed them flat against my chest. She wasn't weak; her hands were surprisingly strong. She shoved hard, pushing me off balance and backward into the wall.
"Don't, Mr. Aiden," she hissed, her voice low and furious. All the fear and innocence were gone, replaced by a steely, focused rage I'd never seen. Her gray eyes burned into mine.
"I am just a maid," she repeated, throwing my own words back at me like a curse. "You don't get to save me, and you don't get to touch me. Now, please leave, or I will tell Mrs. Chavez you came in here to threaten me."
I stared at her, stunned. The quick, absolute rejection was a cold shock that instantly cleared the fog of panic and whiskey. She wasn't an innocent pawn; she was guarded, sharp, and entirely focused on her survival.
I pushed off the wall, my heart hammering. She wasn't just disposable. She was dangerous.
"You're a mistake, Elsie," I muttered, shaking my head. "A terrible mistake."