Chapter 1 — The Delivery
1988 Words
The first thing Clara Hayes noticed about the Blackwell mansion was the gate.
It was unnecessarily large.
Black iron stretched high above her head, decorated with the Blackwell family crest in the center. Two security guards stood on either side, watching the old pickup truck as though it had arrived carrying something far more dangerous than thirty trays of eggs.
Clara shifted in her seat.
“Papa,” she said, “are they always this serious?”
Her father kept both hands on the steering wheel.
“Don’t start.”
“I only asked a question.”
“And I answered it.”
“But You didn’t. Papa!”
Mr. Hayes glanced at her.
“Clara.”
She smiled innocently.
He sighed.
They had been driving for almost an hour from their small farm outside Westmere. The morning had started before sunrise, as it usually did. Their chickens had to be fed, the eggs collected, cleaned, sorted, and packed before they could leave.
It was hard work.
But it was work that kept food on their table.
And lately, the Blackwell contract was doing more than that.
It was keeping their farm alive.
The price of chicken feed had gone up twice that year. The old water pump had broken. Part of the chicken coop needed repairs, and their truck had developed a problem that Mr. Hayes kept promising to fix when he had enough money.
Enough money never seemed to come.
But every week, the Blackwell family ordered hundreds of eggs.
And not only do they paid on time.
They paid well.
And they never complained about the price.
That was why Clara’s father treated every delivery like it was the most important thing he’d ever done.
The guards finally opened the gates.
Her father drove through.
Clara looked out the window.
The estate was enormous.
The driveway alone seemed longer than the road leading to their farm. Tall trees lined both sides, their branches carefully trimmed. Flower beds surrounded a massive fountain, and several luxury vehicles were parked near the entrance of the mansion.
Clara had seen expensive houses before.
But they were nothing like this.
The Blackwell mansion looked less like a home and more like a place where kings lived.
“Don’t stare Clara,” her father said.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was just looking.”
“That’s the same thing young lady.”
Clara smiled.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are.”
Her father cleared his throat.
“I’m just being careful.”
“Because of the billionaire?”
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Everyone in Westmere knew Adrian Blackwell.
He was thirty five years old and the CEO of Blackwell Corporation, a business empire involved in construction, finance, technology, and real estate.
His name appeared in newspapers almost every week.
Usually beside words like ruthless, powerful, merciless, or untouchable.
People called him The General.
Not because he was in the military.
But because he ran his company like an army.
One order from Adrian Blackwell could change the future of an entire company.
But two years ago, the powerful CEO had become the subject of a very different kind of news.
There was an accident.
His cousin had died.
Adrian had been driving.
Adrian survived.
His cousin didn’t.
The accident left Adrian with a spinal injury that permanently changed his life.
Since then, he had rarely appeared in public.
Rumors said he had become impossible to deal with.
Some said he had become crueler.
Others said he had always been cruel and the accident simply removed whatever patience he had left.
Clara didn’t know which version was true.
And she had no intention of finding out.
She only had eggs to deliver.
Her father parked beside the service entrance.
“Stay here,” he said.
Clara looked at him.
“You can’t be serious Dad, you really want to carry thirty trays yourself? No that’s not happening”
He sighed.
“Fine. But be careful and mind your business.”
“I always do.”
“You know that is not true.”
They climbed out.
The back of the truck was filled with carefully packed trays of eggs. Clara lifted two while her father carried another pair.
They had barely reached the kitchen entrance when a woman in a dark uniform stepped outside.
Mrs. Collins.
Clara recognized her immediately.
The housekeeper had been working for the Blackwell family for years.
“Mr. Hayes.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Collins.”
Mrs. Collins looked at her watch.
“You’re seven minutes late.”
Her father immediately stiffened.
“I’m sorry. The truck ..”
“I don’t need an explanation.”
Her eyes moved toward the trays.
“Thirty trays?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She stepped aside.
“Bring them in.”
Clara followed her father into the kitchen.
The kitchen was larger than their entire house.
There were stainless steel counters, enormous refrigerators, polished floors, and several workers moving around quietly.
Clara had barely placed her first tray down when a loud crash came from upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Another crash followed.
Then a man’s voice echoed through the mansion.
“GET OUT!”
Clara looked toward the doorway.
Mrs. Collins didn’t react.
Neither did most of the workers.
Her father whispered, “Keep unloading.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Another crash.
This one sounded like glass.
A young woman in a medical uniform hurried down the hallway.
Her face was pale.
Mrs. Collins turned toward her.
“What happened?”
“He refused the medication.”
“Again?”
The nurse nodded.
“He told me to leave.”
Mrs. Collins sighed.
“Then leave.”
The woman looked relieved.
She picked up her bag and walked out.
Clara watched her.
“How many nurses does he have?”
Her father immediately looked at her.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“Focus.”
Mrs. Collins gave Clara a warning look.
“You should finish your delivery.”
Clara shrugged.
She picked up another tray.
Then the hallway went silent.
Everyone seemed to feel it.
A soft mechanical sound came from the corridor.
Wheels.
Clara turned.
A man in a wheelchair appeared.
Adrian Blackwell.
She recognized him immediately.
He was taller than she expected, even sitting down. His shoulders were broad, his dark hair slightly disheveled, and his face was hard and expressionless.
He wore a black shirt and dark trousers.
Nothing about him suggested weakness.
Except the wheelchair.
His hands rested on the wheels.
His eyes moved slowly through the kitchen.
Nobody spoke.
Then his gaze stopped on Clara.
“What are you looking at?”
Clara blinked.
“Uhm Nothing?”
“Then stop looking.”
She looked away.
Her father immediately stepped forward.
“Sir, we’re here for the egg delivery.”
“I know.”
His voice was low and cold.
He looked at the trays.
“Then Finish it and leave.”
Then he turned his chair.
Clara thought he was leaving.
Then his voice came again.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
Adrian looked at her.
“Who are you again?”
“Clara.”
“Clara what?”
“Clara Hayes.”
“Why are you here?”
“My father brought me.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She frowned.
“I came to help with the delivery.”
Adrian stared at her.
“Then help.”
He turned away.
Clara looked at her father.
Her father silently told her to keep working.
So she did.
For the next ten minutes, Clara focused on the eggs.
She didn’t look at Adrian..
She didn’t care that he was in the room.
At least, that was what she told herself.
Then she heard him speak.
“Those aren’t arranged properly.”
Clara looked at the tray.
“They’re eggs.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I can see that.”
“Then what’s wrong with them?”
Her father stopped moving.
Mrs. Collins looked horrified.
Adrian slowly turned his wheelchair toward Clara.
“You’re arguing with me?”
“No.”
“You just did.”
Clara looked at the tray again.
“They’re all facing the same direction.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
Adrian’s expression became colder.
“You’re dismissed.”
Clara blinked.
Her father immediately stepped forward.
“Sir?”
“Get them out.”
“Please, Mr. Blackwell..”
“I said get them out.”
Clara stared at Adrian.
She hadn’t expected that.
She had only answered his question.
Adrian looked at the security guard standing near the entrance.
“Escort them off the property.”
Her father’s face went pale.
“Sir, please. We’ve had this contract for six years.”
Adrian didn’t even look at him.
“Then you should have taught your daughter how to behave.”
Clara’s cheeks burned.
Her father grabbed her arm.
“Come.”
“But I didn’t do anything..”
“Clara, Now!”
Two guards approached.
Clara looked back at Adrian.
He was already turning away.
As though she no longer existed.
Her father pulled her through the kitchen.
They were escorted back to the truck.
The gates opened.
Then closed behind them.
Clara stared through the rear window.
Her father didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
The silence lasted almost twenty minutes.
Finally, her father said, “Do you understand what you’ve done?”
Clara looked at him.
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You argued with him.”
“He started talking about the eggs.”
“You should have kept quiet.”
“I didn’t insult him.”
“You embarrassed him.”
“He’s the one who told us to leave!”
Her father tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly He’s a Jerk!.”
“No, you don’t.”
He sighed.
“That contract is our biggest customer.”
Clara’s anger faded.
She looked down.
“I know.”
“If he cancels it..”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t even need to.
They both knew what it meant.
Feed bills.
Repairs.
Debt.
Possibly losing the farm.
Clara swallowed.
“I’ll fix it.”
Her father gave a bitter laugh.
“How?”
She had no answer.
The truck continued down the highway.
Behind them, the Blackwell estate disappeared into the distance.
Neither Clara nor her father knew whether Adrian Blackwell had just ended their six year business relationship.
Clara hated him but what could a poor man’s daughter possibly do?
She would never forget the look in his eyes.
It was something cold.
To her, Adrain was the devil
It was like he had already decided that the entire world had disappointed him.
And she had just become another person on his list.
Inside the mansion, Adrian sat alone in his study.
Mrs. Collins entered quietly.
“The Hayes family has left.”
“I know.”
“Mr. Hayes was worried.”
Adrian didn’t respond.
Mrs. Collins hesitated.
“Should I cancel their contract?”
Adrian’s eyes remained on the documents in front of him.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“No?”
“Keep the contract.”
“Even after what happened?”
Adrian finally looked up.
“I said keep it.”
Mrs. Collins nodded.
“Understood.”
She turned toward the door.
“Mrs. Collins.”
She stopped.
“Yes, sir?”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Make sure the girl doesn’t come back with the deliveries.”
Mrs. Collins nodded.
“Of course.”
She left.
Adrian returned to his work.
He didn’t think about Clara Hayes again.
At least, he told himself he didn’t.
But the contract remained active.
And neither Clara nor her father would have had any idea why.
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