Chapter 3 - The Weight Of A Tie
I returned to the private dining room ten minutes later with more questions than answers. The security anomaly defied every operational protocol I had spent a decade establishing around my life. When I pushed open the double wooden doors, the scene inside had shifted just enough to catch me off guard.
Vance was standing by the oil painting on the wall, looking profoundly uncomfortable while Lily sat perched on the edge of the oversized leather armchair near the fireplace, swinging her legs back and forth. She had finished the piece of bread and was now examining the intricate gold embroidery on the cuff of her pink dress.
When she saw me enter, her face lit up with an unquestioning warmth that made something unfamiliar twist behind my ribs.
"You're back," she stated, sliding off the chair with a soft thud.
"I am," I said, walking over and kneeling down so I was at eye level with her. The neck tattoos I usually kept hidden beneath high-collared shirts were fully visible as I tilted my head. She didn't flinch away from them; instead, she reached out a small hand and lightly touched the edge of my black silk tie, her fingers wrapping around the smooth fabric.
"You look like a businessman," she whispered conspiratorially.
"I am a businessman, Lily." I gently untangled her fingers from my tie, holding her small hand in mine for a second longer than necessary. "Now, we have a bit of a problem. My men checked the entire perimeter, and nobody saw how you got inside. Do you remember walking through a big gate?"
Lily shook her head, her blonde ringlets bouncing. "I was in the garden. With the flowers. Then I saw the big light through the window and came inside."
"The garden?" Vance interjected from across the room. "Sir, the garden doors are alarmed. If anyone opened them from the outside, the console would have screamed an alert."
"Unless," I said slowly, standing back up while keeping my hand on Lily's shoulder, "someone inside the house opened them and forgot to lock them afterward."
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Vance's expression darkened. The estate staff consisted of six vetted professionals who had been with me for years. The idea that someone had left an access point open—or worse, brought an unauthorized child onto the property and abandoned her—was a severe breach of trust that demanded immediate, cold investigation. But looking down at Lily, who was now yawning and leaning sleepily against my trouser leg, I realized security protocols could wait until morning. Right now, she needed a safe room and a bed.
"Vance, prepare the east guest suite," I instructed, my voice dropping into an authoritative register. "And have the house manager bring up a selection of children's clothes from the uptown boutique in the morning. Nobody leaves this estate until I find out who brought her here."
