Chapter 3

I walked to the dining table and picked up the porcelain bowl of steaming bird's nest soup.

The delicate white bowl was warm against my fingers.

I stirred the soup slowly, watching thin wisps of steam rise from its surface. Then I scooped up a small spoonful and held it in front of Clarissa Simmons.

"Miss Simmons, your breakfast."

Clarissa glanced at Lewis.

Only after he gave her a reassuring look did she lean forward and part her lips.

But the instant the spoon touched her mouth, she jerked backward.

"Ah!"

Her hand shot out, striking the bowl I was holding.

"It's burning!"

The porcelain slipped from my fingers.

A sharp crash echoed through the dining room.

The bowl shattered against the Italian marble floor, sending hot soup splashing in every direction.

Most of it landed directly on the back of my right hand and wrist.

Pain shot through my skin.

I sucked in a breath.

Within seconds, the affected skin had turned an angry red.

Clarissa stumbled backward, clutching her chest.

"Oh my God!"

Her eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Abigail, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that!"

She looked toward Lewis, her voice trembling.

"It was just so hot. I got scared..."

Before she'd even finished speaking, Lewis had pulled her into his arms.

"Clarissa!"

His voice was tight with concern.

"Are you hurt?"

He cupped her face, examining her lips and cheeks.

Then he checked her neck and hands.

"Did it burn you anywhere?"

Clarissa shook her head weakly.

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, her eyes glistening.

"I'm okay, Lewis. I just got frightened."

Only after confirming she hadn't suffered so much as a red mark did Lewis finally turn toward me.

I was still standing beside the table.

The back of my hand throbbed.

Two blisters had already begun swelling beneath the reddened skin.

Lewis's gaze dropped to them.

For one brief second, he looked directly at the burns.

Then he looked away.

"You can't even manage something this simple?"

His voice was cold.

I stared at him.

He gestured toward the broken porcelain.

"Clean up the mess."

That was all.

No concern.

No question about whether I needed medical attention.

Not even an acknowledgment that Clarissa had knocked the bowl from my hands.

I lowered my injured hand.

The swollen skin brushed against my sleeve, sending another sharp sting through my wrist.

My fingers trembled slightly.

But I kept my expression neutral.

"Of course, Mr. Delgado."

I crouched beside the shattered bowl.

Pieces of fine porcelain lay scattered across the marble, mixed with the spilled soup.

I began collecting the fragments.

The first sharp edge sliced into my fingertip.

A thin line of blood appeared.

Then another shard nicked the side of my thumb.

I didn't make a sound.

Behind me, Lewis was still comforting Clarissa.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Clarissa sniffled.

"But Abigail got hurt..."

"She'll manage."

I paused for half a second.

Then I continued picking up the broken pieces.

I'd spent three years taking care of Lewis Delgado.

I'd negotiated with dangerous Mafia associates, attended meetings where men carried loaded guns beneath their jackets, and endured countless humiliations to protect the Fox family's interests.

And now, apparently, I wasn't even worth a moment of concern after being burned in his own dining room.

I gathered the last shard and stood.

Blood had smeared across my fingertips.

My wrist was still throbbing.

But there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty.

The cost of treating these burns would be added to my invoice.

At eight o'clock that evening, the Delgado mansion was blazing with light.

A private banquet had been arranged to celebrate Clarissa Simmons's return from Italy.

The guest list included senior members of the Delgado organization, influential figures from New York's Five Families, wealthy financiers with ties to the underworld, and several society women who had spent years competing for the attention of Mafia heirs.

Luxury vehicles lined the circular driveway.

Armed security stood at every entrance.

Inside, crystal chandeliers illuminated the grand ballroom, where waiters circulated with champagne and a live string quartet played beside the marble staircase.

It was exactly the kind of event I'd attended countless times as Lewis's companion.

Except tonight, I wouldn't be standing beside him.

Earlier that afternoon, Lewis had handed me a black staff uniform.

"Put this on."

I'd looked at the neatly folded fabric.

"What is it?"

"Your uniform."

He hadn't bothered looking up from his phone.

"Clarissa's welcome banquet starts at eight. You'll help serve drinks and direct the guests."

I studied him for a moment.

"You're assigning me to the catering staff?"

Lewis finally raised his eyes.

"You're staying here under the transition clause, aren't you?"

His mouth curved into a mocking smile.

"Then make yourself useful."

I accepted the uniform without arguing.

After all, the contract said I was required to provide services.

It didn't say I had to enjoy them.

And every hour would be billed accordingly.

By the time the first guests arrived, I'd changed into the black uniform and tied my hair into a neat bun.

A narrow apron rested against my waist.

I balanced a silver tray of champagne flutes on one palm and stepped into the ballroom.

It didn't take long for people to recognize me.

Whispers followed me almost immediately.

"Isn't that Abigail Fox?"

"She used to be Lewis Delgado's woman."

"I heard Clarissa Simmons came back from Italy yesterday."

"So he finally got rid of the substitute?"

A woman laughed softly.

"Looks like he didn't even bother sending her away. He made her a servant."

Another voice joined in.

"Well, the Fox family went bankrupt years ago. What else is she supposed to do?"

I walked past them without changing my expression.

Three years ago, those same people had smiled at me, complimented my dresses, and asked me to introduce them to Lewis.

Now they looked at me as though I were part of the evening's entertainment.

The fallen Fox heiress.

The discarded mistress of a Mafia heir.

The woman who'd gone from sharing the boss's bed to serving drinks at his banquet.

Apparently, humiliation was the main attraction.

I was passing a group of guests near the bar when someone deliberately stepped into my path.

A shoulder struck mine.

The tray tilted.

Champagne sloshed over the rim of one glass, spilling across the silver surface.

"Oh!"

A woman in a fitted red dress covered her mouth.

"Well, well. Look who it is."

I looked up.

Beth Finch.

The daughter of a wealthy businessman who handled investments for several families connected to the New York underworld.

Two years earlier, Beth had tried to get close to Lewis at a private casino gathering.

When she'd become too aggressive, Lewis had ordered me to smooth things over.

I'd ended up drinking three shots of strong liquor on her behalf while she sat there laughing.

Now she was looking at my uniform with open delight.

"Abigail Fox."

Her smile widened.

"What happened, sweetheart?"

She glanced at my apron.

"Didn't Lewis give you a decent severance package?"

A few people nearby chuckled.

Beth tilted her head.

"Or did he decide you weren't worth the trouble?"

I looked at the spilled champagne.

Then I took a clean cloth from my apron and calmly wiped the tray.

"Miss Finch."

My voice was perfectly polite.

"The champagne being served tonight is a limited vintage from the Delgado family's private cellar."

Beth raised an eyebrow.

"So?"

"Ten thousand dollars per bottle."

I inspected the glass.

"You just caused approximately half a glass to spill."

Her smile faltered.

I looked back at her.

"Five thousand dollars in damages."

I folded the cloth neatly.

"Would you prefer to pay by card or bank transfer?"

For a moment, Beth simply stared at me.

Then her face flushed.

"Are you out of your mind?"

I blinked.

"Not at all."

I shifted the tray slightly.

"I'm simply following the household's financial procedures."

Beth gave an incredulous laugh.

"You expect me to pay you five thousand dollars because you can't carry a tray properly?"

"You struck my shoulder, Miss Finch."

"That's ridiculous!"

I nodded toward the center of the ballroom.

"You're welcome to dispute the charge with my employer."

Beth followed my gaze.

Lewis stood near the grand staircase, surrounded by several high-ranking members of the Delgado family.

I continued pleasantly.

"Mr. Delgado takes losses involving his private collection very seriously."

Her expression changed.

"Under the household's damage policy, he may deduct the amount from my wages. However, he generally requires the responsible party to reimburse ten times the original loss."

I smiled.

"That would be fifty thousand dollars."

Beth's mouth fell open.

I held out the tray.

"Would you like me to call his financial manager?"

She glared at me.

"You..."

I waited.

For several seconds, she seemed to search for something suitably insulting to say.

Then she turned sharply and walked away.

I watched her disappear into the crowd.

A few nearby guests quickly looked elsewhere.

Apparently, humiliating a discarded mistress was entertaining only when it didn't involve paying for the privilege.

I adjusted my tray and continued working.

Across the ballroom, Lewis was making his rounds with Clarissa on his arm.

He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo.

His expression was relaxed, almost indulgent, as he introduced her to the senior members of his family's organization.

Clarissa looked radiant.

She wore a custom couture gown that shimmered beneath the chandeliers.

Her hair had been swept into an elegant updo, exposing the graceful curve of her neck.

And around that neck hung a sapphire necklace.

My steps slowed.

I knew that necklace.

I knew every detail of it.

The deep blue sapphire at its center.

The delicate platinum setting.

The small diamonds arranged around the stone like scattered stars.

It had belonged to my mother.

She'd worn it to charity dinners, family celebrations, and important business gatherings when the Fox family was still prosperous.

When I was little, I used to stand beside her dressing table and watch her fasten it around her neck.

She'd always smiled at my reflection in the mirror.

"One day, Abigail, this will be yours."

And eventually, it had been.

It was one of the few things I'd managed to keep after my father's financial collapse.

But when the Delgado family's creditors began closing in, I'd been forced to pawn it to Lewis.

It was the most valuable possession I'd ever surrendered.

I'd told myself I would buy it back once the debt was settled.

I hadn't expected to see it again like this.

Hanging around Clarissa Simmons's neck.

A gift from the man who'd taken it as collateral.

I stood near the edge of the ballroom, watching the sapphire catch the light.

Every time Clarissa moved, the stone flashed a brilliant, familiar blue.

For a moment, I remembered my mother's hands fastening the clasp behind her neck.

Then the memory faded.

The necklace was no longer mine.

I'd signed it over as part of the debt arrangement.

Legally, Lewis could do whatever he wanted with it.

Even give it to the woman he'd spent three years loving.

I tightened my grip on the tray.

Across the room, Lewis suddenly turned his head.

His eyes found mine.

For a moment, we stared at each other through the crowd.

Then his gaze dropped briefly to Clarissa's necklace.

When he looked back at me, a faint smirk curved his lips.

He lifted his champagne glass.

A distant, mocking salute.

As though he were asking whether I finally understood my place.

I didn't react.

I simply looked away.

But Clarissa had already noticed.

She followed Lewis's line of sight and spotted me standing near the wall.

Then she leaned closer and whispered something into his ear.

Lewis listened.

A moment later, he nodded.

Clarissa smiled.

She handed her glass to a passing waiter, gathered the hem of her gown, and began walking toward me.

I remained where I was.

She stopped directly in front of me.

"Abigail."

Her voice was warm and sweet.

"You're working so hard tonight."

I gave her a professional smile.

"Good evening, Miss Simmons."

Her fingers rose to the sapphire necklace.

She stroked the stone lightly.

"Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

I waited.

Clarissa tilted her head.

"Lewis told me this necklace used to belong to your mother."

My gaze dropped to the sapphire.

"That's correct."

Her smile brightened.

"It's absolutely beautiful."

She ran her fingers along the platinum chain.

"I've never seen a sapphire quite like it."

I said nothing.

"Lewis told me the story behind it."

Her voice softened.

"He said your family had to give it up when things became difficult."

She looked at me with an expression of carefully arranged sympathy.

"That must have been heartbreaking."

I kept my face neutral.

Clarissa continued.

"But Lewis said he's giving it to me as a welcome-home present."

She smiled.

"I love it so much."

Then she paused.

"You don't mind, do you?"

I looked at the necklace.

For a brief moment, I could almost hear my mother's voice.

One day, Abigail, this will be yours.

I pushed the memory aside.

"It's Mr. Delgado's property now."

My voice was quiet.

"He can give it to whomever he chooses."

Clarissa studied me.

"So you really don't mind?"

"It has nothing to do with me anymore."

Her smile widened.

"That's such a relief."

She touched the sapphire once more.

"I was worried you might feel uncomfortable seeing me wear it."

I didn't answer.

Apparently satisfied, Clarissa turned toward a passing waiter and picked up a glass of red wine.

"Well, in that case..."

She raised the glass slightly.

"Let me toast you."

I glanced at her.

She smiled with innocent sincerity.

"Consider it a thank-you for taking such good care of Lewis all these years."

A few nearby guests turned to watch.

Clarissa extended the wineglass toward me.

I shifted my tray to my other hand.

Then I reached out to accept it.

My fingertips had barely touched the stem when Clarissa suddenly loosened her grip.

And the glass slipped from her fingers.