The Millionaire Came Home Unexpectedly… and Discovered How His Fiancée Treated the Employees

On Thursday evening, two days after the incident in the kitchen, the Whitmore estate was bathed in warm exterior illumination. The fountain in the driveway bubbled softly, and four valet attendants in black vests stood ready near the entrance steps.

Victoria stood in the grand foyer, wearing an emerald green silk dress that swept the floor. Her dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, and a single strand of diamonds encircled her neck. She checked her reflection in the gilded mirror near the door, adjusting a loose curl with practiced grace.

"Margaret!" Victoria called out without turning around.

Margaret stepped into the foyer from the hallway, dressed in a spotless black uniform with a crisp white apron. "Yes, Miss Victoria?"

"The ice sculptures in the dining room—are the drainage trays emptied?"

"Yes, ma'am," Margaret said, her head slightly lowered. "I checked them ten minutes ago."

"Good. Make sure the pinot noir is served at fifty-eight degrees, not room temperature. Mr. Whitmore’s associates from the Atlanta fund are very particular." Victoria turned around, looking Margaret up and down with a critical eye. "And stand near the side pantry during service. I don't want servers loitering near the main doors while people are speaking."

"Yes, ma'am."

The heavy front doors swung open, and Nathan walked in.

He wore a custom charcoal suit, his white shirt open at the collar, carrying a leather briefcase in his right hand. His face bore the familiar, quiet composure he brought home from long business trips.

Victoria’s expression transformed instantly. The sharp, cold posture vanished, replaced by a radiant, joyful smile. She glided across the marble floor, her arms opening wide as she reached him.

"Darling!" she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against his. "You're back! I thought your flight from Denver wasn't landing until six!"

Nathan held her. He felt the soft silk of her dress, smelled the subtle rose perfume she wore, and felt the delicate frame of her body pressed against his chest. For two years, this embrace had been his sanctuary. Now, it felt like holding a silk sheet over a pit of broken glass.

"The wind was good," Nathan said softly, patting her back twice before gently stepping out of her hold. "The flight was early."

He looked past her shoulder. Margaret was standing near the archway, her hands folded in front of her apron, watching him with an unreadable expression.

Nathan met Margaret's eyes for a long second. He gave her a very small, barely perceptible nod.

Margaret’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly looked down at the floor. "Welcome home, Mr. Whitmore."

"Thank you, Margaret," Nathan said, his tone warm and respectful. "It’s good to see you. How is Thomas feeling this week?"

Victoria’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second—a tiny twitch at the corner of her lip—before she chimed in, "Oh, Thomas is fine, sweetie! He’s just getting older, you know how groundskeepers are. Now come upstairs, you need to change before the Vances arrive! My father brought the preliminary architectural plans for the new wing at the club."

Nathan let her take his arm and lead him up the grand staircase.

As they reached the upper landing, Victoria leaned into his shoulder, her voice dropping into that sweet, intimate murmur he knew so well. "I missed you so much, Nathan. Asheville was so exhausting without you. My mother and I picked out the floral arrangements, but every time I looked at a flower, I just wished you were there to hold my hand."

Nathan kept walking, his eyes fixed on the long corridor ahead. "Did you find a good venue?"

"Oh, the estate in Biltmore Forest is divine!" she beamed. "It’s eighty thousand for the weekend rental, but father said it’s worth every penny for the family image. You don't mind the cost, do you, darling?"