never came home. Chloe was a ghost in its halls

y, she couldn't

ients from the massive stainless-steel refrigerator. She would cook for

ty Tucker, hovered nervously. "Mrs. Irw

d with concern. "Madam, Mr. Irwin's orders wer

e sliced vegetables. She seared a perfect, thick-cut steak and arran

ner in hand. As expected, two guards

said, her

idn't

rned, feigning defeat, and carried the container towa

crets. Behind the main greenhouse, where a thick growth of ivy covered the stone wall, t

awn, her dress catching on a rosebush. She found the loose section of the wroug

car, pressing a wad of cash into the sta

rk downpour began, the rain hammering against the car's roof. Chloe clutched the w

up in front of the glittering gla

container with her body as she dashed through the

revolving doors, when two men in black

, holding a large black umbrella. He looked at her, soa

nd you crossed the fence, Mrs. Irwin,"

the underground garage, its tires squealing on the

door fl

ly plastered his dark hair to his skull and soaked his expensive suit, but he didn'

away. The realization hit h

ed her lips. She held up the con

ed around her wrist like a vise, the pressure so intens

p agony made her

ontainer slippe

spilling the perfectly cooked steak and salad onto the ground. The food

e offering, her heart shatterin

ess on the ground. But the flicker of confusion was

her toward the open