Chapter 6: Silas's Orders
The elevator descended in a smooth, silent glide, a perfect metaphor for Sebastian Walker's controlled world. It came to a stop in the underground parking garage, the doors opening with a hushed sigh. His driver stood waiting beside the Rolls-Royce, a statue of professionalism. The door was already open. Sebastian slid into the cool, leather-clad silence without a word.
The drive back to the mansion was a study in quiet. It wasn't a disturbing silence; it was their normal, and today, Sebastian's mind was a whirlwind of calculations corporate succession, his grandfather's demands, and the ghost of a girl now living in his house. He stared out the tinted window, watching the gleaming cityscape gradually give way to the tree-lined streets of the elite district.
The car pulled up the crushed-stone driveway. Before Sebastian could even reach for the handle, the massive front door swung open, revealing Mr. Charles, poised and attentive.
"Young Master," Charles greeted, his voice a steady constant. He reached for Sebastian's overcoat as he stepped inside. "How was your day?"
"It was fine, Mr. Charles. Thank you." Sebastian paused, his sharp eyes noting the slight stiffness in the older man's posture. "How is your knee? Is it any better?"
Charles waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, Young Master, it's no big deal. I'm not that old yet. I can manage."
A faint, genuine smile touched Sebastian's lips. "I know you're not old. But you should still be careful. You can't be on your feet every hour of the day. It's not good for your… seasoned experience," he said, the last part delivered with a rare, dry humor.
Charles chuckled softly, deftly changing the subject. "Dinner will be ready soon. We didn't know you would be back early today."
"It's fine. We are not eating at home today anyway."
"We?" Charles asked, a flicker of confusion crossing his composed features.
"Yes, we," Sebastian reiterated, his tone cooling slightly. "My grandfather has commanded me to bring her to the old mansion for dinner. He wants to see her."
Understanding dawned on Charles's face. "Oh, yes. Of course." He cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness returning. "But… she is not back yet."
A frown settled on Sebastian's handsome face, a crack in his impeccable composure. "Why not?"
"We don't know, Young Master. The Miss left for school this morning and has not returned."
"Then call her," Sebastian commanded, his voice dropping to a temperature just above freezing. "Inform her about the dinner so she can start coming home."
Mr. Charles looked down, uncharacteristically embarrassed. "Well… I don't have her number. None of us do."
The silence that followed was thick with disbelief. Sebastian stared at his butler, the sheer absurdity of the situation striking him. He was tethered to a woman whose contact details were a mystery to his own household. Without another word, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number from memory. It was picked up on the first ring.
"Get me Isadora Anderson's cell number. Call her and inform her she is to return to the mansion immediately. We are expected at my grandfather's estate." He didn't wait for a confirmation. "Then make it happen." He ended the call, the order given, the problem delegated.
***
Across town, in a part of the city the Rolls-Royce never traversed, the air was thick with the sizzle of grease and the cacophony of traffic. This was a neighborhood of old, soot-stained buildings and not-so-clean streets, vibrant and loud. Facing the busy road was "The Daily Grind," a restaurant that was small, perpetually busy, and fiercely authentic.
Inside, Isadora and Lena moved with practiced efficiency through the lunchtime rush, a ballet of taking orders and delivering plates. The bell above the door jingled constantly. A group of high school boys slouched in, dropping into a worn vinyl booth.
"Hey, Isa!" one of them, Ben, waved as Isadora finished up at another table.
She hurried over, a tired but genuine smile on her face. "Hey, Ben. How are you doing today?"
"I'm fine. I see you're busy. We'll just take the usual," Ben said, and the other boys at the table nodded in agreement.
Isadora scribbled the order on her notepad. "Alright, guys, I'll be right back." She started to turn, then paused. "But Ben, how is Benny now? I'm so sorry I can't tutor her anymore. I have my own finals to study for."
"She's fine," Ben said. "Oh, and my mom said to give you this." He pulled a thick brown envelope from his bag and handed it over.
Isadora took it, her smile softening with profound gratitude. "Thank you, Ben. Please send my thanks to your mother as well."
"You're welcome."
As she turned back to the chaos, another waitress, Lily, called out in an annoyed voice from a corner table. "Hey, Isa! Your phone keeps buzzing! It's ruining my break. Come and get it!"
"I'm sorry, Lily," Isadora called back, balancing a tray of dirty dishes. "Can you please just check who it is?"
Lily scowled but was too curious to refuse. Who could be calling Isadora this persistently? She grabbed the buzzing phone. The screen showed an unknown number. Annoyed that she couldn't satisfy her curiosity, she did the simplest thing: she pressed the power button until the screen went black. "Wrong number, probably," she muttered to herself, tossing the phone back onto the counter before resuming her break.
***
Two hours later, the dinner rush had begun to slow. The restaurant door opened again, the bell jingling with a new, different energy.
Lily, loitering near the entrance, was the first to see him. The man who walked in stood out like a diamond in a coal bin. His hair was a shock of stark white, almost silver, contrasting sharply with his young, handsome face. A single silver earring glinted in one ear, and he wore a long black overcoat that swayed around his tall, commanding figure. Every eye in the restaurant flickered toward him, a silent acknowledgment of his disruptive presence.
Lily approached him, her previous annoyance replaced by a flattering, predatory smile. "Welcome! Would you like a table, sir? I can lead the way." She turned, ready to put on a show.
"I'm looking for Isadora Anderson," the man said, his voice calm but leaving no room for discussion. "She works here, right?"
Lily froze, then slowly turned back around. She was trying hard to keep the smile on her face, but her hands, hidden in the folds of her apron, were clenched so tightly her knuckles were bone-white. "Isa?" she said, the name like poison on her tongue. "What do you want with her?"
A slow, enigmatic smile played on the man's lips. "That is between us, Miss." He offered nothing more.
Furious at being dismissed, Lily turned on her heel and stormed off, ignoring him completely.
The man Zack merely smirked and walked over to the counter where Jerry, the cook, was plating an order.
"Can I help you, sir?" Jerry asked, not taking his eyes off the intriguing stranger.
"The name's Zack. I'm looking for Isadora Anderson. I know she works here."
"Oh, okay." Jerry called over his shoulder, "Isa! Someone for you!"
Isadora emerged from the back, untying her apron. "Jerry, we're done for the day. Lena and I are heading out now." She hadn't even looked up, her mind already on her escape.
"That's not why I called you, girl," Jerry said, nodding toward the stranger. "This handsome man is asking for you."
Finally, Isadora looked at him. Her face was a blank canvas of confusion. "Me?"
"Yes, Miss Anderson," Zack said, his tone respectful yet firm. "Mr. Walker asked me to bring you home immediately. Your presence is required."
"Me?" she asked again, disbelief coloring her voice. "Required?"
"Yes, Miss. We've been calling your phone, but you weren't answering. So I was sent to retrieve you personally."
"Oh…" was all she could manage.
From across the room, Lily watched the entire exchange, her face soured with bitter jealousy. That little bitch, she thought, her mind racing. Always acting so innocent. Now some rich, pretty boy is here to fetch her? I'm sure he's just here to take her out to fuck her. Anxious and filled with a venomous plan, Lily began to weave her way through the tables back toward the counter, a false smile plastered on her face.