Chapter 5 - A Spark in the Cold
The stillness in the library was no longer cold; it had become heavy with shared grief. Jenna looked at the powerful billionaire standing before her and no longer saw an untouchable titan of business. She saw a father whose heart had been torn out and buried in the snow three years ago.
"I'm so sorry, Matthew," Jenna said gently, dropping the formal title without even realizing it. "I can't imagine... I know the pain of losing a partner, but a child... there are no words for that."
Matthew stared into the fire, his jaw working as he fought back the emotions that had been locked away behind his clinical exterior for so long. "Every year, my staff sets that table," he murmured. "They think they are doing me a favor. They set it for sixteen people, or for eight, or just for me. And every year, I stand in the doorway, look at it, and realize that no matter how much money I make, I can't buy back five minutes of the life I lost."
He looked over at Daisy, whose soft, rhythmic breathing was the only sound echoing against the high stone walls.
"When your daughter looked at the bread," Matthew said, a faint, sad smile touching the corner of his lips, "she didn't see my wealth. She just saw food. And when you spoke up for her... you reminded me of what a parent is supposed to sound like."
Jenna swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "A mother will do anything when her child is involved. Even yell at a billionaire on Christmas Eve."
A short, quiet laugh escaped Matthew’s chest—a sound so unexpected and unfamiliar to his own ears that he paused, almost surprised by it.
"I suppose she will," he said softly.
Before their conversation could continue, the silence of the mansion was abruptly broken by the harsh, metallic buzz of an intercom panel mounted near the study door.
Matthew’s expression instantly closed up, the cold mask snapping back into place with practiced ease. He walked over to the wall and pressed the button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Hail, I apologize for the interruption," came the sharp, urgent voice of his head butler, a stern man named Richard who managed the estate staff. "Mr. Harrison Vance is at the front gate. He insists on seeing you immediately regarding the Clean Express contract and the holiday financial audit."
Jenna’s heart plummeted instantly back into her chest. Harrison Vance was the regional manager of Clean Express—a ruthless, ambitious man who treated his cleaning staff like disposable tools and was terrified of losing high-profile clients like Matthew Hail.
"Vance?" Matthew frowned. "Why is he here on Christmas Eve?"
"He says he was doing a personal inspection of the high-value properties to ensure the temporary staff performed up to standard," Richard explained over the speaker. "He saw the cleaning van in the driveway and let himself through the gate."
Jenna stepped forward, panic rising in her voice. "Oh God. If Mr. Vance sees me sitting in your study while my work isn't finished, he’ll fire me on the spot. He’s been looking for an excuse to replace the workers who can't do late shifts..."
Matthew turned his head, looking at Jenna’s pale, terrified face. The warmth that had briefly flickered in his eyes turned into cold, hard steel.
"No one is firing anyone in my house, Mrs. Carter," Matthew said calmly. "Stay here with your daughter."
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"Mr. Hail, please," Jenna begged, her hands clasped together. "You don't understand. If I lose this job, we lose the apartment. We won't survive January."
Matthew walked past her, his presence imposing and completely in control. "I understand perfectly," he said softly. "Which is why you are going to sit right here, close the door, and let me handle Mr. Vance."
