HOUSEKEEPER TO HEIR

CHAPTER FIVE: KIDNAPPED BLOOD

The cold hit first, Grayson woke to the biting chill of metal beneath his skin and the sharp sting in his neck where the taser had struck. His wrists were cuffed, and a blindfold covered his eyes.

His head throbbed. His muscles ached. But his mind was alert. Where am I?. A familiar voice broke the silence, smooth, smug, and venom-laced.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the prodigal son.”

Grayson stiffened. “Lucien.”

The blindfold was yanked off, He blinked against the light. The room was industrial, gray walls, metal chairs, and a single flickering bulb overhead. Lucien stood in front of him, dressed in a flawless designer suit, like he’d just come from brunch.

“You know,” Lucien said casually, “when I first found out who you were, I laughed. You, our housekeeper, the heir to a trillion-dollar empire? It was pathetic.”

Grayson didn’t blink. “Is this where you monologue and pose, or are you planning to kill me?”

Lucien smiled. “Tempting. But killing you now would only make you a martyr. No, Grayson… I’m going to dismantle you piece by piece.”

He circled the chair. “First, the world will hear that you staged everything. That Alaric faked your identity to cover his tracks. That you're a fraud. And when the media finishes eating you alive, the board will vote. You’ll be out. Cut off. And when you’re just a nobody again, then we’ll vanish you.”

Grayson kept his voice even. “You talk a lot for a man who’s terrified.”

Lucien stopped behind him. “I’m not terrified,” he whispered. “I’m in control.”

“You were never in control,” Grayson said. “You were just a guard dog. Clive held the leash.”

Lucien’s hand clenched. For a second, it looked like he’d strike, But instead, he laughed coldly and left the room, locking it behind him, Back at Wynthorpe HQ, chaos ruled.

Emmett paced the penthouse, phone clutched to his ear. “He’s not answering. He’s not here. His tracker’s offline. Something’s wrong.”

Alaric sat in his chair, too quiet, too still. “I told him to stay inside,” the old man muttered.

“He went down to the garage,” Emmett said. “After the article dropped. I think someone was already waiting.”

Alaric clenched the armrest. “This is my fault.”

Emmett looked at him. “Then fix it.”

Somewhere in the depths of Graybridge, Grayson sat alone in the locked room, playing back every word Lucien said. “They’ll discredit you first… then destroy you.”

He needed a plan, He looked around. The chair was bolted down. His wrists were cuffed behind his back. The only exit was a steel door.

But then he noticed something, A thin wire. Running along the edge of the room. A camera, tucked into the corner, They were watching him. Grayson smiled faintly, Then let’s give them a show.

Lucien returned an hour later, flanked by two guards, But Grayson wasn’t in the chair. “Where is he?” one guard barked.

The other took a step forward, just as Grayson dropped from the ceiling duct and slammed into him from above.

He’d used the broken chair leg to pry open the vent and waited, A brutal fistfight erupted. Grayson fought dirty, elbows, knees, rage. One guard went down. The second pulled a taser. Zap.

Grayson rolled aside, tackled him, drove a knee into his gut, then grabbed the taser and turned it on him.

Zap, Lucien ran, Grayson didn’t chase, He ran the other way out the door, into a hallway. Dim lights, concrete floors. An old warehouse. Of course.

The exit was chained, but he rammed it with his shoulder until it burst open, Cold night air rushed in, He was free, Twenty minutes later, Grayson stumbled into a pharmacy, half-covered in blood and bruises.

The clerk gasped. “Do you need help?”

“Call this number,” he rasped, handing over a card with Emmett’s name. “Tell him… Grayson’s alive.”

Then he collapsed, By midnight, Grayson was safe in a hidden suite, guarded by Wynthorpe security, Alaric sat beside his bed, frailer than ever. “You survived,” he said softly.

“Barely,” Grayson muttered.

Emmett stood nearby, eyes blazing with fury. “Who did this?”

“Lucien,” Grayson said. “And whoever he’s working with.”

Alaric looked grim. “That confirms it. They’re not just trying to block the inheritance. They’re trying to end the bloodline.”

Grayson forced himself upright. “Then we take the fight to them.”

“You’re still healing,” Emmett said.

Grayson shook his head. “We don’t have time. If the board votes without me there, they’ll install someone else. Lucien. Or worse, Clive.”

Alaric nodded. “The final vote is in three days. If you want the empire, you have to stand before them. Bloodied or not.”

Grayson’s jaw tightened. “Then prep the room.”

Meanwhile, in the Everhart estate, Clive stood in his private study, arms crossed as Lucien ranted. “He got away. He’ll ruin everything!”

“No,” Clive said. “You already ruined everything.”

Lucien stared. “What?”

“You panicked. And now you’ve made him a symbol. He’ll walk into that boardroom with bruises and a story, and every camera in the country will believe him.”

Lucien clenched his fists. “So what do we do?”

Clive turned toward the window. “We change tactics.”

That night, Grayson sat alone, staring into the mirror again, A swollen lip. A black eye. Scars that wouldn’t fade. And yet… he looked stronger than he ever had, Not because he was healed, But because he wasn’t hiding anymore.