Page 70 of Checks & Bonds

"This is amazing," I said between bites, glancing up at Carmen who was now frying another batch of bacon.

She smiled warmly. "Glad you like it. Always nice to cook for someone who appreciates it."

I took another bite, savoring the moment before curiosity got the better of me. "Carmen, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, dear," she replied without missing a beat, flipping the bacon with expert precision.

"How did you end up working here? With the Mathers, I mean."

She chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with memories. "Well, it’s a bit of a long story. But to keep it short, I’ve known Henry’s family for years. His mother and I were close friends back in the day. When she passed away, rest her soul, I stayed on to help with the household, thanks to his grandfather."

I nodded, intrigued by this glimpse into Henry's past. "That must have been hard... losing someone so close."

Carmen’s expression softened, and she nodded. "It was. But this place—these people—became my family too."

I took another bite of pancake, mulling over her words. "And Henry? Was he always... like this?"

Her laughter filled the kitchen, light and genuine. "Oh no, Henry was quite the handful growing up. Always getting into trouble, but he had a good heart. Still does, if you know where to look. And he adored his grandfather."

Before I could ask more, the front door slammed open with a force that rattled the windows. My heart jumped into my throat as Henry stormed in, still in his workout gear, face twisted in fury.

His eyes flickered between us before settling back on me.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Henry’s gaze snapped to me, dark and stormy. His knuckles were white around the strap of his gym bag. “Go home, Carmen,” he said, his voice tight. “Your services aren’t needed today.”

Carmen hesitated, her eyes darting between us. “But Mr. Mathers?—”

“Go home,” he snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Carmen pressed her lips together, clearly upset but too professional to argue further. She gave me a brief, apologetic glance before turning and leaving the kitchen. The sound of the front door closing behind her echoed in the now silent room.

I glared at Henry, anger bubbling up inside me. “What is your problem? Carmen didn’t do anything.”

He ignored my question, his eyes still smoldering with whatever rage had driven him here in the first place. Without another word, he turned and headed toward the west wing.

My curiosity got the better of me. I pushed away from the table and followed him down the hallway. I didn't care thatHenry didn't want me there; he wasn't allowed to speak to Carmen this way.

His pace was brisk, his movements sharp with frustration. I struggled to keep up but refused to let him out of my sight. If he thought he could just dismiss Carmen and leave me in the dark, he was sorely mistaken.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Don't walk away from me. You owe me an explanation! Hey!"

We reached a heavy oak door at the end of the corridor. Henry pushed it open with more force than necessary, disappearing inside without so much as a backward glance.

I paused for a moment before stepping through the doorway. The room beyond was dimly lit, filled with old furniture covered in white sheets. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by the slivers of light that seeped through partially drawn curtains.

Henry stood in the center of the room, his back to me. His shoulders were tense, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice echoing off the walls.

He didn’t turn around. “This is none of your concern.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” I shot back, taking a step closer. “You can’t just storm in here and send people away without an explanation.”

His silence was infuriating. The room felt like it was closing in around us, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “Just leave it alone, Freya.”

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