Chapter 0003

Zane POV

I confess I rarely have time for humans, though I wish them no ill will, but the need to protect Ella’s maid from what were obviously false accusations propelled me into the kitchen. Standing beside her, I could easily smell her fear and the cleaning solutions she had been using, even a whiff of burnt hair that indicated she’d been using a vacuum recently, but there was no trace, quite distinctive, of the jewelry cleaner Ella used on her baubles.

The chef, however . . .

I turned to look at him and saw his dark eyes widen as sweat burst out on his forehead. Betas and omegas constantly underestimated the senses of an alpha, though this hardly excused his stupidity or his duplicity.

“Zane?” Ella asked me, her hand lowering.

I pointed to the man’s right pants pocket. “Hand them over.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, sweating harder. “I would never do what you’re—it’s obviously the human!”

“I said, hand them over,” I repeated, bringing my alpha voice to the fore. “Kneel down, apologize, and give Ella back her things.”

With a gasp and a sob, the beta fell to his knees. “I’m, I’m sorry,” he got out, sounding strangled as his trembling hand reached into his pocket. He handed a folded handkerchief to Ella, who opened it to reveal her necklace and earrings.

I heard the maid sigh in relief, her body sagging slightly. I glanced at her ashen face to make sure she wasn’t about to faint or something, and then met Ella’s dark eyes, perfectly made up and glittering.

She looked down at the chef, who was crying openly though silently. “You are dismissed without reference. Be grateful I don’t have the time or energy to press charges. Get out of my home.”

With a toss of her blond hair, Ella performed a catwalk-worthy twirl and headed back into her bedroom. I looked to the chef but then realized my daughter was standing on the other side of the maid, clinging to her leg in a way she usually only did with me.

The maid seemed to realize this at the same time and looked down at my daughter with concern, then with a smile, then with a puzzled look I couldn’t interpret. While we weren’t watching, the chef shot to his feet and raced out the door.

“What’s your name?” I asked, needing to know at least that much about a human woman my daughter was holding onto so trustingly. Also, there was another scent I picked up on her, something painfully familiar I couldn’t yet name. It smelled almost like Grace, which might explain why my daughter had glommed on to her.

She looked at me, and I was struck by the odd thought that she was quite pretty, for a human. Her eyes were bright blue and her hair, undyed, was deeply black, pulled up into a large, tidy bun. After so often in Ella’s sparkling company, it took me a moment to realize the odd quality of the maid’s face was its modest application of makeup.

“Sarah Astor, Mr. Cavendish.”

I nodded, unsurprised she had recognized me, but before I could say anything, Ella had swept back in, the sapphire jewelry that had led to the trouble refracting the light at her neck and ears. She looked down at my daughter with a little frown, obviously noticing her arms around the maid—around Sarah’s leg.

“Daddy,” Grace said very quietly, which was her usual way, “that was scary.”

“It was,” I said, smiling down at my daughter. “Would you like to go home?”

Grace nodded, and I heard Ella exhale in frustration. But when I looked up at her, she smiled with understanding and nodded. “I’m sure that was difficult for her. Theft is such an ugly crime.”

I couldn’t help thinking a little less drama from Ella would have made everything considerably less ugly, but Ella was a good friend of mine, not to mention the sister of my late and dearly missed wife, so I just nodded and went to the door.

“I’m leaving now, Miss Ella,” I heard Sarah say. “I will not be coming back.”

“That’s your choice, of course. If the agency calls, I will let them know you didn’t steal from me.”

There was a noticeable pause before Sarah responded with just a trace of sarcasm, “That’s very kind of you.”

I left then and went down the elevator to the lobby with Grace in tow. But I found myself lingering after that. When Sarah emerged from the double door a few minutes later, she seemed surprised to see us standing there.

“Ella said you have no car,” I explained. “I’m sure you’re quite capable of taking the bus, but considering tonight’s upset, perhaps you would allow me to drive you home?”

The human woman looked tempted for a moment, then torn, then smiled. “I admit I’m eager to get home to my daughter. Thank you very much.”

I escorted her out the door and into the car waiting for us near the entrance to Ella’s apartment building. Grace seemed happy to sit with Sarah in the back, which again I thought was odd, but even odder, she did not pull out her phone and play with it, evidently happy enough just to sit there.

Once I was belted into the passenger seat, my beta chauffeur, Ollie, started the car and asked for an address. Sarah gave the number and street of a low-income but quite respectable neighborhood, and Ollie pulled out into traffic.

“So, you have a daughter?” I asked, turning slightly to see Sarah smiling down at my child.

“Yes.” She looked at me with a trace of caution.

“I confess when I smelled a pup on your clothes I assumed you were simply a wolf child’s caretaker.”

“My daughter is about Grace’s age,” she responded, dodging my obvious question.

“What’s your daughter like?” Grace asked, which was surprisingly outgoing for her.

“She’s the cutest, best little girl,” Sarah said. “You and she are a lot alike, actually, though her hair is short in a little pixie cut. She loves to draw things, and she’s friends with everyone in her class.”

“Do you work as a maid throughout the day?” I asked, making sure to sound friendly.

Sarah shrugged, playing an odd little game with Grace’s fingers and making my daughter giggle. “I babysit as well, when my daughter is in school.”

“What school does she go to?” Grace asked.

“Pellum Kindergarten.”

I nodded to myself. It was a public school with a high werewolf enrollment. A good choice for what I assumed was a half-were child. I wondered where the father was.

“I go to Pride Academy,” Grace said.

“Do you like it there?”

Grace nodded. “Our art teacher is the best. And our computer teacher lets us play games if we finish early.”

“That sounds very nice.” Sarah pointed. “There, that’s our apartment right there.”

Ollie pulled over, and I made sure to get out of the car before Sarah could say it wasn’t necessary. In the end, all of us, including my chauffeur, walked into a small, well-kept courtyard.

Sarah stepped up to a door and knocked, calling, “Mrs. Thaller?”

A cheerful, impossible familiar voice called out from the other side, “Mommy!” The door swung open, and suddenly I was staring at Grace’s twin sister, missing these five years.

“Chloe,” I said faintly.

“Chloe? Grace asked.

“How do you know my daughter’s name?” Sarah demanded.

Rage swelled up inside me, and I grasped the wrist of this woman, this thief in front of me.

“She’s my daughter,” I told her. “How dare you kidnap my daughter?"