Chapter 3 - The Locked Wing
By the fourth day after the incident in the courtyard, the unspoken hierarchy of the Romano estate had fundamentally shattered.
Titan refused to sleep in the state-of-the-art kennel facility near the stables. Every evening at five o'clock, as the sun dipped below the frozen pines of Lake Geneva, the massive black dog would trot down the service stairs, wait patiently by the laundry room door for Evelyn to finish her shift, and escort her through the snow to the eastern cottage.
The estate staff noticed.
Rosa began leaving extra portions of roasted beef and warm sourdough bread wrapped in clean cloth on the kitchen counter for Evelyn. The younger housemaids stopped leaving the heavy brass polishing tasks for her. But Victor Sloane watched her with an increasingly cold, suspicious stare whenever she passed him in the grand gallery, and Vanessa Sterling’s visits from Chicago became more frequent, more abrupt, and far more venomous.
On Thursday morning, the mansion was shrouded in a thick, gray winter fog that rolled off the frozen lake, blinding the security cameras along the northern wall.
Evelyn was assigning cleaning duties in the west gallery when Rosa pulled her aside into the pantry.
“Mr. Romano is in Chicago until midnight for a meeting with the port authority,” Rosa whispered, her hands shaking slightly as she adjusted her apron. “Miss Vanessa is in the drawing room with her father’s lawyers. She has ordered a deep cleaning of the third-floor library wing.”
Evelyn frowned. “The third floor? I thought those rooms were off-limits to all junior staff.”
“They are,” Rosa said, her voice dropping to a barely audible rasp. “Gabriel keeps the master study and the archive room locked. But Miss Vanessa took the brass master key from the office safe while he was away. She claims she is searching for old property deeds for the estate renovation.”
Evelyn felt a cold knot form in her stomach. “Why are you telling me this, Rosa?”
“Because Titan is standing outside the third-floor iron door, and he won't let her lawyer step into the corridor,” Rosa said, her dark eyes wide with fear. “Calvin tried to drag him away with a choke chain, and Titan nearly tore the man’s jacket off his shoulder. Miss Vanessa is threatening to have the security guards shoot the animal.”
Evelyn dropped her feather duster onto the pantry shelf and sprinted up the service stairs.
When she reached the third-floor landing, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The third floor was vast, dimly lit by tall, stained-glass windows, its floors covered in heavy Persian rugs that swallowed all sound.
At the end of the long corridor stood a pair of massive, double oak doors reinforced with blackened iron bands.
Standing directly in front of those doors was Titan. His body was lowered, his teeth fully bared, a dark, low growl vibrating through the floorboards. Five feet away stood Vanessa Sterling in a pristine cream suit, accompanied by two estate security guards holding heavy leather truncheons, and a pale lawyer carrying a leather briefcase.
“Shoot the damn beast!” Vanessa was shrieking, her manicured fingers pointing wildly at the dog. “He is diseased! Gabriel is out of the city! I take responsibility for the security of this property!”
One of the guards reluctantly unholstered his sidearm.
“Don't you dare!” Evelyn’s voice rang through the vaulted corridor like a pistol shot.
Vanessa whipped around, her eyes flashing with pure fury. “Get out of here, you pathetic little gutter rat! This is family business!”
Evelyn ignored her, walking rapidly down the hallway until she stood between the guard’s gun barrel and Titan’s body. She didn't look at the gun; she looked at Titan.
“Titan,” she said, her voice dropping into the same calm, rhythmic register she used in the cottage. “Drop.”
The dog’s dark eyes flicked to her face. His growl didn't stop, but his shoulders lowered by two inches.
“Evelyn, step away from that dog!” the guard warned, his forehead dripping with nervous sweat. “He’s about to attack!”
“He isn't attacking,” Evelyn said, stepping right up to Titan’s side, resting her warm palm firmly against his trembling ribs. “He is guarding this door. Why is he guarding this door, Miss Sterling?”
Vanessa’s pale face flushed a dark, angry red. “This entire house belongs to Gabriel! And as his future wife, I have every right to access his legal archives!”
“Gabriel hasn't put a ring on your finger, Miss Sterling,” Evelyn said, the words slipping out before she could check her tongue. “And he didn't give you the key to this room.”
Vanessa raised her gloved hand and struck Evelyn squarely across the face.
The sharp CRACK of skin hitting skin echoed through the empty hall. Evelyn’s head snapped sideways, her lip splitting against her teeth, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
Titan let out a roar that sounded like a falling building.
He lunged forward, his massive jaws snapping closed six inches from Vanessa’s throat. The lawyer screamed and dropped his briefcase; the two security guards scrambled backward, knocking over an antique porcelain vase that shattered across the rug.
“TITAN, NO!” Evelyn cried out, grabbing the thick collar around the dog’s neck with both hands, throwing her whole body weight backward to pull him down.
The dog halted instantly, his broad chest heaving against her arms, his hot breath washing over her bleeding lip, but his body remained an impenetrable wall between the maid and the socialite.
Vanessa was hyperventilating, her back slammed against the opposite wall, her face as white as the snow outside the stained glass.
“You... you crazy bitch...” Vanessa choked out, her voice trembling violently. “You set that animal on me!”
“I saved your life,” Evelyn spat, wiping the blood from her chin with the back of her sleeve. “If I hadn't held him, he would have ripped your throat out. Now take your lawyers and get off this floor before I let go of his collar.”
Vanessa didn't argue. She turned and fled down the grand staircase, her expensive heels clicking frantically against the marble, followed closely by her terrified lawyer and the two shaking guards.
Silence returned to the third-floor corridor.
Evelyn sank onto the Persian rug, her chest heaving, her left cheek burning with a sharp, throbbing pain. Titan turned around, whining softly, and began licking the small line of blood on her chin with deep, gentle strokes.
“I’m okay, boy,” she whispered, burying her face in his thick black fur. “I’m okay.”
As she leaned against the dog’s side, her eyes drifted to the base of the massive oak doors Titan had been guarding.
The heavy brass lock had been turned, but the door was unlatched by a fraction of an inch where Vanessa had inserted the master key before Titan stopped her. A cold, distinct draft was blowing through the crack from inside the locked archive.
And carried on that cold air was a smell Evelyn recognized instantly—a scent that made the hair on her arms stand on end.
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It wasn't old paper or leather books.
It was the sharp, metallic smell of fresh gun oil, aged cedar, and the faint, unmistakable fragrance of dried white lilies.
