Betrayed By The Billionaire

283

Vince led the group into the primary drawing room, a space of soaring ceilings and cold marble that felt more like a museum than a home. He personally brewed a pot of high-grade Oolong, the steam rising in delicate ribbons. Moments later, Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, arrived with a sprawling platter of tropical fruits.

"These just arrived this morning, Madam," she said, her voice warm but deferential. "They are exceptionally sweet. I’ll go and fetch the pastries now."

Chloe Bishop raised a hand to stop her. "Mrs. Gable, please, don't trouble yourself."

The atmosphere was too thick with unspoken dread for Chloe to even consider an appetizer. Her stomach was a knot of anxiety; she wasn't here for high tea.

"It’s no trouble at all, Madam," Mrs. Gable insisted with a soft smile. "The pastries are already finished. I’ve been busy since dawn."

Vince added with a hint of a smile, "She truly has. Once she heard the young mistress was returning, she wouldn't sit still for a moment."

Chloe felt a flicker of genuine gratitude. In the shark-infested waters of the Grayson Estate, Vince and Mrs. Gable were the only ones who treated her with consistent humanity. It was their quiet authority that kept the lower staff from being overtly disrespectful.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," Chloe said sincerely.

"It is my honor that you enjoy my cooking, Madam," the woman replied, dipping her head. "This old frame of mine gets restless with nothing to do. I’ll bring them right out."

As Mrs. Gable retreated toward the kitchen, Old Mrs. Bishop’s gaze followed her every step. When the housekeeper returned with the tiered tray of delicate, lace-like pastries, the grandmother’s eyes didn't leave her.

The Healer’s Senses

The desserts were masterpieces—meticulous, colorful, and highly aromatic.

Old Mrs. Bishop’s gaze shifted from the woman to the sweets. She picked up a small lemon-glazed tart and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. A serene, maternal smile touched her lips. "They smell wonderful, and the craftsmanship is exquisite. You must have spent hours on these. It’s a heavy burden to place on you."

"Oh, not at all," Mrs. Gable laughed, though she tucked her hands behind her apron. "Making pastries isn't labor; it’s just a matter of a careful heart. Truly, it’s no trouble."

Mrs. Gable stepped back to stand at attention, but an icy shiver traced her spine. For a moment, the grandmother’s gaze had turned unnervingly sharp—a predatory clarity that stood in total contrast to her peaceful, elderly aura.

Did she find something? Mrs. Gable wondered, her pulse quickening.

Old Mrs. Bishop took a single, deliberate bite. She turned to Jane Bishop and Master Marcus Sr. "It’s very good. You should both try some."

Following her lead, Master Marcus Sr. picked up a piece. Like his wife, he didn't eat immediately; he held it to his nose first, his nostrils flaring slightly as he dissected the scent. He took one bite, chewed slowly, and then set the remainder down. He didn't reach for a second.

Jane, however, was less guarded. She enjoyed two of the tarts, oblivious to the silent communication passing between her parents.

The Request for the Deep

After the tea had been poured, Chloe turned to Vince. Her voice was steady, but her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. "Vince, we would like to visit the basement. Please lead the way."

Vince froze, the silver tea strainer hovering over a cup. "Madam... the basement is damp and the air is quite chilled. You’ve only just recovered. If there is something you need, I can send a servant down to retrieve it for you."

The Grayson basement was a place of ill omen. Only two days ago, Chloe had been found unconscious and traumatized in the Dungeon sector. Vince had no desire to see her collapse again, especially with the Bishop elders present. If anything happened to the "Divine Healer’s" family on his watch, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Mrs. Gable quickly chimed in, "He’s right, Madam. Just tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll bring it up myself."

Chloe looked at the two elderly servants, finding it difficult to voice the truth.

It was Old Mrs. Bishop who broke the stalemate. She looked at Mrs. Gable with a kind but firm expression. "The thing we are looking for is not something you can carry, Mrs. Gable. You both know Chloe suffered a terrible shock in that basement. If we don't find the source of that 'disturbance,' none of us will sleep soundly tonight. We ask for your cooperation, Vince."

Her gaze shifted to the butler, heavy with an ancient authority that demanded compliance.

Vince hesitated, his mind racing. He realized then that this wasn't a social visit; the Bishops were here for a spiritual and medical audit of the Grayson secrets. "But... the Master..."

"Vince, please," Chloe said softly. "If Xavier is angry, I will take the full responsibility. He won't blame you."

Vince exhaled, his shoulders dropping slightly. He was trapped between the "Demon CEO's" iron rules and the "Divine Healer's" absolute demand. Fortunately, Chloe hadn't explicitly mentioned the Dungeon—just the "basement." As long as the secret sector remained sealed, perhaps he could navigate this.

"Very well," Vince whispered. "Follow me."

The group is heading toward the heavy, reinforced door that leads to the Grayson subterranean levels. Master Marcus Sr. has gripped his walnuts again—click, click, click—as the temperature in the hallway begins to drop. Will the "Healers" find a physical cause for Chloe’s collapse, or will the "unclean" energy of the Grayson history prove to be a poison that even they cannot neutralize?