* * *
After my sister’s full report, she takes her leave from my study with instructions to find something productive to do with her time. I can't help noticing that she seemed flustered and irritated throughout her rendition of the day’s events, and I'm not certain if it's because of Ivy or Judge's biting but accurate assessment of her.
Regardless, I push those thoughts aside and finish my work for the day before I go in search of Antonia. I find her dusting the shelves in the library and nearly startle the life from her once again when she turns to see me standing there.
"Oh!" She gasps. "I didn't hear you, Mas... I mean, Santiago. Sir."
She seems out of sorts today and a little tired. I often wonder how long I will be able to keep her on staff. Though she has been given many opportunities to leave, should she like, the woman seems determined to remain at the manor until her dying breath. I am too proud to admit that I am grateful for that because the house wouldn't be the same without her.
"Can I get you anything?" she asks.
I hesitate, uncertain how I might phrase my proposition. She waits patiently, her eyes kindly remaining on my face without any sign of revulsion.
"How is Mrs. De La Rosa this afternoon?" I ask.
"Fine." She answers with a hint of confusion. "Last I saw, she was reading. I did suggest a nap since she seemed a little tired. But other than that—"
"I would like you to inform her that she is to have dinner with me this evening.”
A small hint of a smile brightens her face. "Oh, yes of course. Would you like something special? I can change the menu if you'd like."
"What you have on the menu is fine," I answer stiffly. "Thank you, Antonia. Please tell my wife she is to join me in the dining room at seven thirty."
"It would be my pleasure." She bows her head.
With that matter settled, I take my leave of the estate. I'm not in the habit of venturing out before total darkness, but another situation warrants my attention and should have been handled days ago.
My magnetic silver Aston Martin DB11 AMR Coupe handles the crowded streets with ease as I navigate to the Lakewood neighborhood. Traffic can be a nightmare this time of day, which is why Marco offered to drive me, but I find something about driving myself calms me. He is in the passenger seat beside me, silent for the duration of the ride until I pull up in front of the colonial mansion on Garden Lane.
"I will accompany you, sir." He's already unbuckling his seat belt, unwilling to accept no for an answer.
Marco is my personal guard, and he treats his position as if it is his sole purpose in life. He was assigned by IVI, as all Sovereign Sons require a guard, but his loyalty and dedication are unwavering. He's been with me since my teenage years and has offered his regrets more than once that he was not inside the meeting with me the night of the explosion. I had told him to wait outside, and he did. He was the one who ran into the building and dragged my half-dead body out as I attempted to crawl from the wreckage. Had he not, I doubt I would be here today.
"Thank you, Marco." I open my door and make my exit, walking briskly up to the front veranda.
Marco holds back behind me, checking the street and every other invisible threat he may see. I ring the bell and wait.
A moment later, Dr. Chamber's housekeeper greets me with a startled gasp.
"Oh, hello." She barely manages to get the words out before she forces her gaze downward. "Please do come in. I will call for Dr. Chambers."
We follow her inside, and she leaves us in the sitting room, scurrying off as quickly as she can. It takes several minutes, but eventually, Chambers appears with a wary expression on his face.
"Santiago." He nods at me. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Funny, considering you've been avoiding my calls." I tilt my head to examine him.
"I haven't." He dismisses the suggestion as ridiculous. "I've been very busy. In fact, I only just got back to the city from a conference. There has been little time to go through my messages, I’m afraid."
"No time like the present." I stare at him incredulously.
He shifts his weight, glancing at Marco behind me, and then forces his gaze back to me. "Can I offer you a drink?"
"No."
He takes a seat across from me, obviously uncomfortable in my presence. "What can I help you with?"
"You can help me with an explanation of the events that transpired while my wife was in your office."
A bead of sweat hovers on his forehead before trickling down over his brow. "The purity test?"