Serve Me, My Lord

It was past midnight. The second floor of the main house was brightly lit. Emmett walked down the hallway. His feet sank into the thick, expensive Persian carpet.

He carried a massive silver tea tray in his hands. It was incredibly heavy, but his arms didn't shake.

At the end of the hall, the heavy oak doors to Viscount Corbin's study were shut closed. From inside, the violent sound of glass shattering echoed through the wood.

Two senior footmen stood outside the door. They looked terrified. When they saw Emmett walking toward them with the tray, their shoulders dropped in relief. They didn't want to go inside. They pointed at the door, silently telling Emmett to take the hit.

Emmett lowered his eyes. He nodded obediently. He balanced the heavy tray on his left hand. He raised his right hand and knocked softly on the wood.

"Get out!" Viscount Corbin roared from inside. He sounded like a wild animal.

Emmett didn't flinch. He kept his voice perfectly smooth and flat.

"Sir, your sedatives and hot tea," Emmett said.

There was a two-second pause. Then, Lady Leonora's exhausted, raspy voice called out. "Let him in."

Emmett pushed the heavy door open. He stepped inside.

The study was destroyed. Pieces of a shattered antique vase covered the floor. White papers were scattered everywhere like snow.

Viscount Corbin sat slumped in his leather chair. His tie was ripped open. His eyes were bloodshot. He gripped a telegraphed document from a city law firm so hard the paper was tearing.

Emmett kept his eyes straight ahead. He walked carefully, stepping over the broken glass. He set the heavy silver tray on the edge of the mahogany desk.

Lady Leonora sat on the velvet sofa. Her expensive makeup was smeared down her cheeks. She was nervously tearing a silk handkerchief to shreds with her manicured nails.

Emmett picked up the silver teapot. He poured the hot liquid slowly. He made no sound. He became invisible.

"Alistair was a fool!" the Viscount screamed, slamming his fist on the desk. "With him dead, the trust inheritance chain is broken! The city vultures will liquidate the estate by tomorrow morning!"

"That was your son!" Lady Leonora shrieked. "And all you care about is your money!"

"Without money, we can't even pay the maintenance on the yacht!" the Viscount snapped back. "How will you survive the social season without my unlimited line of credit?"

Emmett pushed the teacup toward the Viscount. He dropped a white sedative pill next to the saucer. He bowed slightly and took a step back. But he moved his feet very slowly.

The Viscount grabbed the cup and drank. His eyes darkened. A crazy, desperate look crossed his face.

"There is one way to keep the money," the Viscount whispered.

Emmett stopped near the door. He turned his back to them. He pretended to fold the white linen napkins on his cart. He focused all his attention on their voices.

"Kearney Bernard," the Viscount spat the name out like poison. "That bastard is the only male heir left in this generation."

Lady Leonora gasped. She looked disgusted. "That gloomy freak? He doesn't know our rules! He's a savage!"

The Viscount smiled coldly. "Exactly. He's stupid. He'll be easy to control. We just need Philippa or Beatrice to marry him..."

"Are you insane?" Lady Leonora stood up. "Philippa is already married! Beatrice will never marry a country bumpkin!"

"Then Clara will do it!" the Viscount slammed his hand on the desk again. "As long as the money stays in this family, I don't care who spreads their legs for him!"

Emmett froze. His hands stopped moving on the napkin. His lungs stopped taking in air.

Clara.

A slow, freezing smile stretched across Emmett's face. The corners of his mouth pulled up so hard it hurt.

The Viscount looked up. He noticed Emmett standing by the door.

"What are you still doing here?!" the Viscount roared.

Emmett instantly dropped his smile. He spun around. He widened his eyes in pure panic. He bowed so low his back was parallel to the floor.

"I'm sorry, sir! I'm leaving right now!" Emmett stuttered. His voice shook with fake terror.

He practically ran out of the room. He grabbed the heavy brass handles and pulled the oak doors shut.

The heavy click of the lock sealed the screaming inside.

Emmett stood in the quiet hallway. The fake terror vanished from his face instantly. His heart pounded with a dark, twisted excitement.

In his past life, Clara had sent him to the gallows to protect her family's wealth. In this life, she was going to be sold like a cheap prostitute to Kearney Bernard.

Emmett grabbed the handle of his cart. He pushed it down the hallway. He couldn't wait to watch them tear each other apart.