After breakfast, Lena went to the laundry room because habit was stronger than a day off. Roman found her there twenty minutes later, standing before the household supply cabinet with a frown.
“You are terrible at resting,” he said.
“You own twelve brands of linen spray.”
“I do?”
“No one needs this much lavender.”
“I’ll alert procurement.”
She glanced at him, then back at the invoices clipped to the cabinet door. “Who approves household vendor payments?”
Roman followed her gaze. “Mrs. Pell submits. Finance clears. Why?”
Lena pulled one invoice free. “Because this supplier has billed for imported orchid preservative every week for six months.”
“Yes?”
“We don’t use imported orchid preservative.”
He blinked.
She pointed to the flower room. “We use sugar, vinegar, and whatever Mrs. Pell calls ‘common sense.’ This company also billed for silver cleaning solvent in quantities large enough to polish a cathedral.”
Roman took the invoice.
Something shifted in his face.
“What is the supplier name?”
“Crownwell Domestic Services.”
His eyes sharpened.
Lena turned to another page. “There’s more. I noticed because the labels never matched the deliveries. Small boxes, huge invoices. I thought rich people accounting was just… strange.”
Roman stared at the papers.
Then he took out his phone. “Amara. Come to the penthouse.”
By noon, the kitchen island was covered in invoices, delivery logs, household schedules, and financial reports Amara had pulled from Roman’s private server.
By four, they had found twenty-three shell vendors.
By seven, they had found Gideon Shaw.
He had not merely paid Miles.
He had been draining money through household accounts, charity galas, art purchases, and restoration grants for years. Small leaks. Elegant leaks. The kind designed to look like luxury waste inside a billionaire’s empire.
Roman stood at the windows with a folder in his hand, his face carved from stone.
Amara looked at Lena. “How did you catch this?”
Lena shrugged awkwardly. “I clean the cabinets.”
Roman turned.
“The board missed it,” Amara said. “Internal auditors missed it. I missed it.”
Lena tried to make a joke. “Maybe none of you spend enough time with linen spray.”
Roman did not smile.
He looked devastated.
“Gideon was my father’s man,” he said. “He stayed after I took over. Said loyalty mattered.”
“Loyalty to whom?” Lena asked.
Roman looked at the folder again.
The answer was obvious.
Not to him.
To the old empire.
That night, Gideon Shaw arrived at the penthouse as if summoned for an ordinary business meeting. He was silver-haired, smooth, and beautifully dressed, the kind of man who looked incapable of sweating. He had always treated Lena politely in the way people treated expensive lamps politely.
He entered the library and saw her seated beside Roman.
His eyes narrowed for the briefest second.
Then he smiled.
“Miss Marlow,” he said. “Unexpected.”
Lena smiled back. “I get that a lot.”
Roman remained standing. “Sit down, Gideon.”
Gideon sat.
Amara placed the invoices on the table.
The older man glanced at them, then folded his hands. “Household paperwork? Surely we have staff for that.”
“We do,” Roman said. “Fortunately.”
The insult landed.
Gideon’s smile thinned.
Roman slid one invoice forward. “Crownwell Domestic Services.”
“An approved vendor.”
“It does not exist.”
“Then someone in procurement made an error.”
“Twenty-three errors?”
Gideon leaned back. “Roman, if this is about the Waverly incident, I assure you—”
“Miles Ward admitted you paid him.”
“He will say anything to protect himself.”
“He provided messages.”
“Fabricated.”
“Bank transfers.”
“Misunderstood.”
Lena spoke then. “And the orchid preservative?”
Gideon looked at her as if a chair had interrupted.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You billed the house for weekly orchid preservative shipments. We never received them. You also billed for silk storage crates, antique brass polish, and Belgian wax we do not use. If you’re going to steal from a house, Mr. Shaw, you should occasionally ask the people who run it what actually arrives.”
For one perfect second, Gideon had no face at all.
Then he smiled at Roman.
“Careful,” he said softly. “It is charming when staff become observant. Less charming when they become confident.”
Roman’s voice turned cold. “Say one more word to her like that.”
Lena lifted a hand slightly. “No. Let him.”
Roman looked at her.
She kept her gaze on Gideon.
“Please,” she said. “Continue underestimating me. It has been very useful.”
Amara’s mouth twitched.
Gideon stood. “This is absurd. I will not be interrogated by a maid.”
Roman stepped forward.
But Lena stood first.
“No,” she said quietly. “You will be exposed by one.”
The room went silent.
Gideon’s eyes hardened.
For the first time, Lena saw the man behind the manners.