Chapter 2 - The Seven Selections
The grand gallery remained silent for three seconds after Adrian’s announcement, until the rustle of silk dresses resumed like a flock of predatory birds taking flight.
Grant Mercer pulled a black leather ledger from his inner jacket pocket, unclipped a silver pen, and stepped next to his cousin. "You have until midnight, ladies," Grant announced, his sharp voice echoing against the marble floors. "Whatever item you select will be logged in this ledger. At midnight, my cousin will make his decision."
The seven women scattered across the estate like hunters entering a dense forest.
Caroline Wells, whose father controlled thirty percent of the Philadelphia docks, immediately moved toward the private art gallery on the east wing. She chose an early French Impressionist canvas valued at four million dollars—a calculated play to prove she understood high-class investment.
Lauren Sterling, daughter of a steel magnate, walked upstairs to Adrian’s vault room and selected a rare diamond-encrusted pocket watch that had belonged to the founder of the syndicate in 1910.
Melissa Vance choose the land deed option, attempting to leverage her political family's influence to claim a three-acre parcel bordering the state highway.
One by one, six of the women brought their choices to Grant's ledger, each picking priceless treasures, luxury assets, or political leverage.
Only one woman hesitated.
Victoria Russo, the youngest daughter of a New Jersey capo, stood in the center of the library, looking at the leather-bound books on the mahogany shelves. She was sharp, clever, and cautious.
I stood in the corner of the gallery, holding a silver tray with crystal water glasses, keeping my head down, acting like part of the furniture as I always did.
Adrian didn't follow the women. He stood near the grand fireplace, swirling his glass of un-drunk bourbon, his dark eyes observing every movement in the room.
As Victoria moved toward a display case containing ancient Roman gold coins, Grant leaned over to Adrian, whispering softly. "They are picking predictable targets, Adrian. Caroline took the painting. Lauren took the syndicate watch. None of them are looking deeper."
"They see what they were taught to see," Adrian replied, his voice a low baritone that vibrated through the quiet hall. "They look at this house and see a vault filled with gold."
Then, his eyes moved across the marble room once again, settling directly on me.
"And you, Nora?" Adrian spoke across the distance, his voice quiet yet cutting through the chatter of the room like a blade.
Every eye in the gallery turned toward me.
The six elite women stopped speaking, looking at the maid in the plain black dress with absolute disdain and shock.
May you like
"Mr. Vale?" I said softly, my fingers tightening on the edge of the silver tray.
"You have worked in this house for four years," Adrian said, taking three slow, deliberate steps toward me. "You clean these rooms. You know this estate better than my guards. If I offered you the same choice... what would you take?"
