Chapter 5 - The Cleanup
Within twenty minutes, the illusion of the wedding of the decade was officially dismantled.
The elite guests in the grand ballroom had been informed by security that an "unforeseen electrical failure" required an early conclusion to the evening. Chauffeurs were called, limousines lined up outside the wrought-iron gates, and the high-society socialites who had spent the evening gossiping about Sarah and Maya were hurriedly ushered off the premises, entirely unaware that a bloody coup had just been thwarted fifty yards away in the service wing.
Elena was dragged out through the rear exit, her designer wedding gown stained with soot and floor dust, her hands bound behind her back in heavy plastic ties. She didn't scream anymore. She just stared straight ahead with dead, empty eyes, realizing that her grand ambition had ended in absolute ruin.
Back in the service kitchen, the chaos had settled into an eerie, quiet stillness.
Roman stood by the stainless-steel counter, examining the ruined six-tier wedding cake. The dark icing had begun to dry, revealing the ugly, toxic core that had nearly ended his life.
Sarah and Maya stood near the doorway, their coats bundled in their arms, waiting for the verdict. To them, the night was still terrifying. Even though the villains had been exposed, they were still servants in a billionaire's fortress, and billionaires didn't usually let witnesses walk away with state secrets.
Roman turned around, wiping his hands on a clean linen cloth. He walked slowly toward them, stopping a few feet away.
He looked down at Maya. The eight-year-old girl didn't cower. She stood tall, clutching her mother’s hand, her chin tilted up with the exact same stubborn defiance she had shown when she swung the fireplace poker into the cake.
"You saved my life tonight, Maya," Roman said. His voice lacked its usual intimidating frost, replaced by a strange, heavy gravity.
"I didn't do it for you," Maya replied honestly. "I did it because if the cake exploded, my mom would've gotten blamed for it."
A rare, faint ghost of a smile touched the corner of Roman’s mouth.
"Fair enough."
He turned his gaze to Sarah, who was trembling from head to toe.
"Mrs. Vance," Roman said formally.
"Mr. Sokolov?" Sarah choked out, bracing herself for the final blow.
"Your employment as head of estate hospitality is terminated effective immediately."
Sarah’s knees buckled. She felt the ground drop out from beneath her. "Please... Mr. Sokolov... we'll leave the city, we won't tell a soul—"
"Quiet," Roman interrupted gently. "Let me finish. Your position as a maid is terminated because effective tonight, you are being appointed as the Director of Estate Operations for all Sokolov properties across the Midwest. With a salary that reflects the actual value of someone who protects my life when everyone else is trying to take it."
Sarah stared at him, her mouth open in stunned disbelief. "Director...? But I—I don't have a college degree, I—"
"You have loyalty, intelligence, and a spine of steel," Roman said. "That is something money cannot buy."
May you like
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy gold key card, pressing it firmly into Sarah’s trembling hand.
"That opens the penthouse suite on the top floor of the North Tower," Roman instructed. "Take your daughter upstairs. Get some rest. Tomorrow morning, my legal team will draw up the contracts."
