Under Justin’s Watchful Eye

ELENA'S POV.

If this keeps going on, it's only a matter of time before he finds out. I needed to do something.

"Your family is well-off. Why didn't you go back home?" he said again, his gaze unrelenting.

I hesitated, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "I grew up with a stepmother, sir. An evil one," I said, letting a hint of bitterness edge my voice. "Going back isn’t an option."

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, I thought I’d found a crack in his armour. He had his own history with stepmothers, after all. Surely, he’d understand. But instead of dropping it, he leaned back, arms crossed, his expression calculating.

"And the father?"

The question caught me off guard. What father? My father? What did he have to do with any of this?

Before I could respond, Justin’s lips curled into something resembling a smirk. "The father of your child. You could have gone to him."

The words hit me like a slap, sharp and unexpected. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

My composure cracked, but I quickly pieced it back together, masking my anger with a forced calm. "He's married," I said, my voice clipped, each word chosen carefully. "To someone else."

Justin tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle with one missing piece. "Convenient," he muttered under his breath.

The room felt suffocating now, the air heavy with unspoken accusations. I clenched my fists by my sides, willing myself not to let him see how deeply his words had cut. I was hurt but angry as well.

"I understand your concerns about your son’s safety, sir," I began, keeping my voice steady despite the weight of his scrutiny. "But I’ve undergone every necessary medical, physical, and psychological evaluation for this position."

I paused, letting the words hang between us like a challenge.

"And your doctor confirmed I’m fit for the job. However, if further tests are required, I’ll take them without hesitation." I locked eyes with him, refusing to waver under his piercing gaze. "But I’d appreciate it if you stopped digging into my past. It’s not easy to relive those memories."

The faintest smirk curled at the corner of his lips, but it wasn’t one of approval. It was amusement laced with something sharper—something dangerous. His eyes flickered, sizing me up like a predator sizing its prey.

For a moment, my confidence faltered. I cast my gaze downward, the weight of his reputation pressing heavily on my chest. I’d heard the stories: Justin didn’t tolerate mistakes, nor did he forgive insolence. Speaking so boldly might’ve sealed my fate.

What if he fires me?

But I didn’t shake. I stayed seated in place, bracing for his response.

"I doubt you’ll last a week with Noah," he said, his voice dripping with scepticism. "But let’s see."

He leaned forward, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "If you so much as endanger my son in the smallest, most insignificant way—if you make even the slightest mistake—I’ll have you locked up before you can blink."

There was no exaggeration in his tone, no idle threat. He meant every word.

Justin cared for his son deeply—more than I’d realized. At that moment, I saw not just a powerful man but a fiercely protective father. For now, that was his redeeming quality.

I met his stare again, my resolve hardening. "Don’t worry, Mr. Justin," I said firmly, my voice steady despite the fire in his eyes. "I won’t make any mistakes. I’ll keep this job no matter what."

My determination filled the room, clashing with his mistrust.

I knew he meant those threats. The sharp edge in his voice, the cold fire in his eyes—Justin wasn’t a man who spoke lightly. But I needed him to know I meant my words, too. If only he had an inkling of how much this job meant to me. It wasn’t just a paycheck. It was my key, my stepping stone... my revenge.

"That’ll be all," he said, his gaze lingering on me like a challenge, daring me to fail.

"Thank you, sir," I said, rising to my feet. I offered a slight bow, respectful but not subservient. Without another word, I turned and left his office, the weight of his judgment heavy on my back.

A glance at my watch told me it was almost time for Noah to finish school. I headed straight to pick him up, pushing the tension of the encounter aside.

When we got home, the afternoon blurred into a familiar routine. Noah’s chatter filled the air, a bright contrast to the silence of my thoughts. He was full of energy, recounting his day at school. His tiny hands waved animatedly as he told me about the paintings he’d made.

His art was endearingly messy, the colours bold and chaotic. At his age, everything he created felt like a masterpiece.

"Look, Miss Elena!" he exclaimed, holding up a crayon-sketched ice cream cone.

"It’s beautiful," I said with a genuine smile. And it was, in its own way.

But there wasn’t much time to linger. He had an ice cream outing with his grandmother today, and I hurried him to freshen up and change into the clothes I’d packed that morning.

When we arrived at one of their family hotels, Noah’s eyes lit up at the sight of her in the lobby.

"Grandma!" he shouted, slipping out of my grip and running to her.

"Oh, my precious Noah," she cooed, bending to embrace him.

Her warmth towards him was unmistakable, unlike how she treated me, I never knew she could smile genuinely like this.

"How was school today?" she asked, her tone gentle and indulgent.

"It was fine, Grandma. I painted!" Noah replied, his excitement bubbling over.

Their bond was clear, and I let myself fade into the background. It was better that way. Better to remain unseen than to endure another of her veiled insults or condescending remarks.

As they disappeared hand in hand, I found a seat in the lobby. The cool marble beneath me was a welcome relief from the heat of the day.

"Miss Elena," a soft voice broke my thoughts.

I glanced up to find a young woman settling beside me, I recognised her uniform. A maid from the house. I was surprised.

None of the maids in the house had ever approached me before, let alone tried to start a conversation. I wasn’t sure why, but I never bothered to ask. Not like it mattered to me anyway.

"I'm Maria," she said, her gaze steady. "I work for Mrs. Hailey."

"Oh," I hesitated. "I’m Noah’s na—"

"I know who you are," she interrupted with a faint, knowing smile. "Everybody does."

Her words hung in the air, unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite place. Everybody does?

I forced a small laugh, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "Right."

She didn’t laugh back. Instead, she studied me for a moment, as if she were sizing me up.

"So, how’s the job going?" she asked suddenly, her tone casual but probing.

"It’s... fine," I said, though even I didn’t believe it.

Her brow arched slightly, an unspoken really? In her expression.

"I mean," I added quickly, "it’s still early. No problems so far."

She leaned against the counter, her posture relaxing, but her eyes stayed sharp. "Brace yourself. Noah’s going to start troubling you soon. Running off, throwing tantrums, refusing to go to school… you name it."

I blinked, "Noah? But he’s just a sweet little kid. I can’t imagine him being that difficult."

Even the maid I had met on the day I returned home warned about about Noah being so stubborn but to be honest all I've seen in him is an adorable kid—maybe it's too early to judge.

Her soft laugh carried a note of pity. "You’ll see."

"Trust me. He’s four, but he knows exactly how to push buttons."

Her words left a strange knot in my chest. I tried to picture it—Noah, with his big, innocent eyes and shy smile, turning into the handful she described. It didn’t fit.

Since she was the first person here to actually talk to me, I decided not to let the moment slip away. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. "Maria… can I ask you something?"

"Yeah...sure" she replied.

"Maria, how long have you been working for Mrs. Hailey?" I asked, keeping my tone polite. She seemed older than me, and I didn’t want to come across as too forward.

She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she were calculating the answer. "Hmm... about six years now," she replied finally. "Why do you ask?"

Six years. That was perfect. If she’d been here that long, she should know something about the incident five years ago.

"Just curious about something," I said casually, though my pulse quickened.

Maria’s gaze sharpened. "About what?"

"About Mr. Justin’s driver... Morris?" I replied. "How long has he been working for Mr. Justin?"

Her brow arched, and she studied me like I’d just asked something I wasn’t supposed to.

Maria’s lips pursed as she thought. "Well... it’s been a while. Five years, I think."

Five years. I did the math in my head, and it didn’t add up. If Morris started five years ago, that would mean the "Master" he referred to was Justin. But it couldn’t be. The tattoo I remembered vividly belonged to Roland.

Maria interrupted my thoughts. "But he’s been with the Hunts family far longer than that," she added, leaning on the chair as if settling in for a story.

I forced myself to stay calm. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she searched her memory. "From what I heard, Morris was originally hired as one of the family’s drivers. But later, he became Master Roland’s personal driver."

My breath caught. Master Roland. That made sense. But then...

"Five years ago, the brothers had a massive fight," Maria continued, her tone dropping as if she were sharing something forbidden. "I don’t know the details, but it was ugly. Somehow, Morris got caught up in it. Master Roland fired him. No one expected it, but Master Justin took him in afterwards. He’s been working for him ever since."

My heart pounded as the pieces began to fall into place. The timeline, the fight, Morris’s sudden shift in allegiance... it still confused me more.

Maria’s voice cut through my thoughts. "Why are you so curious about him anyway?"

I hesitated, masking the storm of thoughts behind a faint smile. "Just trying to understand the dynamics around here. You know, make sense of everything." I said with a little nervous laugh.