PART 2: THE ARRIVAL OF THE BOSS
By five forty-five, the dining table was immaculate, featuring polished silverware and a fresh linen tablecloth. Grant paced through the living room, nervously straightening his silk tie and checking his watch every thirty seconds.
“Remember your posture,” he warned, leaning into the kitchen with a sharp, controlling glare. “When Mr. Cross sits down, you pour his wine, smile, and keep your mouth shut about everything else.”
I adjusted the thick layer of foundation covering the dark, purple ring beneath my eye and gave him a slow, deliberate nod. “Of course, Grant. Everything will be perfect.”
At six o’clock sharp, the doorbell chimed through the foyer. Grant smoothed his blazer, took a deep breath, and rushed to answer it with his practiced, subservient corporate smile.
The door swung wide to reveal Julian Cross, towering in a tailored navy suit with an expression as cold as ice. Two uniformed police officers stood silently on the porch directly behind him.
Grant’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, confusion flickering across his eyes before he extended his hand. “Mr. Cross! Welcome to my home, sir. I am so honored—”
Julian didn’t look at Grant’s extended hand; his eyes locked instantly past his shoulder onto me.
(The true identity revelation is about to ignite total chaos! Click “Next Page” to continue reading…)
