Chapter 39
Alice stared at me like she was standing at the edge of a cliff.
Fear moved visibly across her face in quiet waves: hesitation, panic, calculation. I watched each emotion surface and disappear beneath the next. She wanted to speak; I could see that much clearly.
But another part of her fought just as hard to remain silent. Interesting. Most people cracked quickly under pressure. Alice didn't exactly resist pressure; she visibly drowned in it. Yet somehow, she still held onto certain things with desperate stubbornness.
I remained silent, leaning against the edge of my desk, my arms crossed loosely over my chest. The surveillance footage remained frozen on the laptop screen beside her. She kept glancing at it, at herself, at the envelope, at me, as if she couldn't decide which danger frightened her the most.
I gave her time. No threats. No commands. No pressure. Silence had always been more useful than shouting. People revealed themselves eventually when silence stretched long enough.
My thoughts briefly shifted to the garden. I'd seen her speaking to someone—hooded, deliberately covered, and hidden. They had both been too far for me to hear the conversation itself, but close enough to know the meeting had not been accidental.
They had met at the east garden pathway of all places. That, plus Alice had looked terrified. Not guilty. Terrified. That distinction mattered.
"Fine," she whispered finally. "I'll talk."
Her voice sounded too small. I said nothing. Alice lowered her gaze to her hands, curved up in her lap. "When Mr. Fernando took me…," she began slowly, "he talked about my father like they'd known each other personally."
Of course, they'd known each other personally, I thought. Too personally, in fact. I managed to keep my expression unreadable as my attention sharpened instantly.
"He kept saying I was safe with him," she continued quickly. "I didn't understand why he felt the need to say that."
A bitter breath escaped her.
"My father died on the happiest day of his life," she said heavily, and her voice cracked slightly at the end. Her shoulders dropped. I genuinely had no idea what to do if she started crying. Hand her a tissue? Maybe.
Alice sniffed once and lowered her head further. "Mr. Fernando allowed me to return here not because you threatened him," she continued, "and definitely not because you killed his men."
Silence settled heavily around the room. "He made me promise I'd be useful to him," she whispered. I uncrossed my arms slowly. "How?" I asked. "He wanted information," she said. "About suspicious deaths that happened years ago."
Something cold settled inside my chest. Very interesting. So that was the catch. But he was being vague with her. Deliberately.
"And?" I asked calmly.
"I haven't found anything," she admitted immediately. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to look for." Her fingers tightened together. Harder.
"If you did know what was asked of you, would you go ahead and offer the information you gathered?" I probed.
"I don't know," she answered uncertainly, as if she were just reflecting on such a probability. "That's why he contacted me tonight. He was tired of waiting for feedback and results," she said. I studied her quietly.
There it was. Raw fear. Not manipulation or strategy. Fear.
"Is that why you went snooping around in my east wing study when I clearly instructed you to avoid it?" I asked.
I watched her head snap instantly. She'd assumed she'd escaped unnoticed. I leaned across her to open one of the desk drawers on her right side. She forgot to shrink into the chair like she'd done earlier. I brought out a folded green handkerchief.
It had once belonged to her. Her eyes bulged from their sockets in utter shock. Her lips parted quickly as though ready to defend herself, but no words came out. After a second, she closed her mouth and gave the smallest shake of her head to answer my question.
Her reply wasn't convincing, but it wasn't entirely dishonest either. I pocketed the green handkerchief.
"So Fernando sent you here to play spy," I said evenly. "And you thought becoming a maid was the perfect cover?"
"No!"
The voice surprised even her. She sat up abruptly from the chair, breathing unevenly.
"No," she repeated more shakily. "I came here because I needed work." Her eyes glistened. "My Aunt Elena is sick," she continued. "I don't want her to die. She's all I have."
A tear slipped down her face. She wiped it angrily before it fell. "Not like you'd understand that."
The words landed harder than she'd intended. Silence followed. I watched her carefully. Most people lied while looking for reactions. Alice looked wounded instead. Desperate. Exhausted, like the last few weeks had slowly scraped her raw from the inside.
"So you're saying you're not a spy?" I asked calmly.
She laughed once, a tired, disbelieving sound.
"If I was," she asked quietly, "would I really be telling you this?"
I said nothing because, unfortunately, she had a point. Fernando was many things: bitter, jealous, calculating, dangerous.
But Alice?
Alice was too emotionally transparent to be an actual operative. Even tonight, the messenger had hidden herself while Alice panicked openly in the middle of the garden like someone unequipped for this world. This meant Fernando was using her differently.
Not as a weapon.
I looked away briefly toward the study door. Of course, he was. Fernando had spent years attacking pieces of my life indirectly: warehouses, business partners, investments, Brenda, and now Alice. Always psychological and calculated.
"Keep talking," I said finally.
Alice inhaled shakily. "I don't want to be in the middle anymore," she admitted quickly. "I don't want to die." Her voice trembled openly now. "My aunt needs me. I need her." Another shaky breath.
"Mr. Fernando hates you," she whispered. "I don't know why he wants me involved in whatever this is."
My jaw tightened slightly. I knew why. Fernando had hated me for years, long before Alice ever stepped foot into this estate.
"He wants to bring you down," she continued frantically. "And I don't know why he needs me to do it because there are already spies here."
I went completely still upon hearing this.
"There are so many people inside this estate feeding him information," she continued. "I couldn't identify the hooded figure, but she works here. I know she does."
The ensuing silence was heavy. I felt something dark settle deeper in my thoughts, not because I doubted her, but because I didn't.
Alice swallowed hard before continuing softly, "I've told you everything I know."
Her eyes finally lifted to meet mine. The same eyes that had looked down at me some moments earlier in a half-closed state, as if I was pleasuring her. Those eyes bore a pleading look laced with fear.
"Please," she whispered. "Don't let him take me again."
Very interesting. It was "Don't let him take me again," not "Don't let Mr. Fernando take me again." Despite everything, some instinct inside her subconsciously viewed me as a safer bet. The realization settled strangely in my chest.
"I'm scared he'll try again," she admitted and looked away.
The room fell silent again. Only this time, the silence felt different. Not an interrogation, but something else. I studied her carefully from where she sat: messy breathing, red eyes, trembling fingers. Fear wrapped around every inch of her.
Somehow, I believed her. Not completely or blindly, of course, but just enough. Enough to know she wasn't built for games like this. That could have been what had sparked Fernando's interest in her.
My thoughts drifted briefly toward the old death she'd mentioned: "suspicious deaths from years ago." For one dangerous second, I considered asking her exactly what Fernando had told her.
I wanted to ask her for the names she might have mentioned or how much he already knew, but I stopped myself. Not yet. Alice was already close to breaking apart entirely. Pushing harder now would achieve nothing useful.
I exhaled slowly and looked toward the dark window overlooking the estate grounds.
Fernando wasn't trying to infiltrate my home; he was trying to destabilize it, and using Alice to do so was probably the smartest move he'd made in years.
A dry chuckle escaped me before I looked back at her. "Go to bed, Alice."
She looked at me slowly, almost confused by the absence of punishment. Then, cautiously, she got up and made her way to the door, still hesitant and uncertain, as if she expected me to change my mind before she reached it.
I didn't stop her; I simply watched her leave the study quietly. The moment she shut the door, my expression disappeared completely because now I knew two things were certain:
Fernando had spies inside my estate, and Alice had become the center of a war neither of us had asked for.