Vivienne descended the sweeping glass staircase with unhurried elegance, a glass of red wine held loosely in one hand, her expression shifting into something sharp and calculating as she took in the scene below her — Damian crouched beside the kneeling maid, his expression carrying an intensity Vivienne had rarely seen directed at anything in the three years of their engagement.
"You're back," she said, her voice carrying a practiced lightness that didn't quite mask the tension underneath. "I see you've noticed our newest hire is rather slow at her duties."
Damian rose slowly, turning to face Vivienne with an expression that had shifted entirely from shock into something colder, more focused. "You hired her," he said, his voice carrying a dangerous calm. "You knew who she was."
Vivienne's composure flickered, just slightly, before resettling into practiced innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about, Damian. She's simply one of the household staff."
"Her name is Elena," Damian said, each word deliberate and cold. "The woman I've spent three years searching for. And you hired her into my own home, kept her hidden in the back corridors, and said nothing."