His estate, perched in the quiet hills of Northern California, reflected that philosophy perfectly. Tall iron gates. Endless security cameras. Staff trained to handle any disruption before it reached him.
Nothing unexpected got through.
Nothing… and no one.
So when the voice came—soft, trembling, barely audible over the hum of his idling car—it should have been dismissed like all the others.
“Sir… do you need a maid? I can work. Please… my baby sister hasn’t eaten.”
Victor had already opened the door of his sleek black sedan. One foot inside. One hand on the frame.
He paused.
Not because of the words.
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