Elena stood three yards away from the edge of the water, her hands occupied with a heavy silver tray laden with crystal glasses of iced lemonade and freshly sliced fruit. Her dark hair was pinned back in a tight, practical bun that was already coming undone from the humidity, and her gray domestic uniform clung uncomfortably to the back of her neck.

================================================================================

Before the security guards could touch Elena, the rhythmic, heavy thud of a silver-tipped walking stick echoed from the arched portico.

“Silence.”

A single word. Spoken at conversation volume, yet it caused every breath on the terrace to halt instantly.

Harrison Sterling walked into the sunlight.

At sixty-eight, the patriarch of the Sterling Industrial Empire was an intimidating monolith. Dressed in a tailored charcoal linen suit, with silver hair brushed back from a chiseled brow and eyes the shade of unpolished slate, he carried an aura of absolute, undisputed sovereignty.

Beside him walked his son, Julian Sterling—Leo’s father—looking disheveled, sweating through his polo shirt, avoiding his father’s eyes.

Victoria immediately burst into a fresh flood of theatrical tears, rushing toward the patriarch with the crying baby.

“Harrison! Thank God you're here!” Victoria sobbed, trembling. “This careless, psychotic maid... she deliberately smashed the lemonade tray! The noise made the stroller roll off the edge! If I hadn't rushed out of the sunroom to pull Leo from the water, our boy would be dead!”

Elena lifted her head in shock.

Victoria was claiming she had pulled the baby from the deep end.

Harrison stopped three paces away. He did not look at Victoria. He did not look at his son.

His piercing grey eyes moved downward, locking onto Elena.

He took in the bruised, swollen cheek, the cut lip, the soaking wet domestic uniform clinging to her shivering frame, and her bleeding, torn fingernails. Then his gaze drifted to Victoria’s dry silk robe, her immaculate hairstyle, and her pristine, unsoaked four-inch heels.

“Julian,” Harrison said, his voice dropping below room temperature.

Julian flinched. “Yes, Dad?”

“Take your son to the pediatric team inside the east pavilion immediately.”

Julian took the baby from Victoria’s arms and hurried toward the glass doors without looking back.

Victoria turned back to Harrison, putting on a face of righteous indignation. “Harrison, we must have the sheriff arrest her immediately. We cannot have an unstable servant living on the grounds.”

Harrison slowly leaned both hands on his silver-tipped cane.

“Mr. Henderson,” the patriarch commanded.

“Yes, Mr. Sterling?” the butler stepped forward.

“Bring a dry wool blanket and a chair for Elena,” Harrison instructed calmly. “And bring me the master terminal for the terrace surveillance system.”