The bedroom, once a sanctuary of silence, exploded into chaos.

Arthur Calloway — tall, silver-haired, and radiating the kind of cold entitlement only old money could buy — stepped inside like he owned the place. Vanessa Hale clung to his arm in a skin-tight white dress, her red lips curled in triumph. Behind them, two lawyers in sharp suits held up documents, while a photographer snapped pictures like it was a red-carpet event.

“Well, well,” Arthur drawled, eyes narrowing at the sight of Matthew still asleep on the bed and Lucy frozen by the door, shoes in hand. “Sleeping Beauty finally found his princess. Or should I say… his maid?”

Vanessa let out a sharp laugh. “How touching. The great Matthew Calloway, reduced to cuddling with the help. This will look wonderful in court.”

Lucy’s heart slammed against her ribs. She was still in yesterday’s wrinkled uniform, hair a wild mess, and she smelled faintly of lemon polish and panic. But something in her — that same stubborn fire that once faced down a murderous turkey — refused to shrink.

“Excuse me,” she said, voice louder than she intended, “but this is a private bedroom. Y’all need to back up before I call the cops… or worse, my cousin Teresa. She throws a mean punch.”

Arthur ignored her completely, focusing on his nephew. “Matthew. Wake up. We have an emergency hearing in two hours. The board is voting to remove you as CEO. Insomnia-induced mental instability — we have five years of medical records to prove it. And now this?” He gestured at Lucy like she was evidence. “Fraternizing with staff? Perfect.”

Matthew’s eyes snapped open.

For a second, confusion clouded his face — then everything clicked. He sat up slowly, the movement of a man who had just tasted real sleep and wasn’t ready to lose it again. His gaze landed on Lucy first. Something soft flickered there, gone in an instant when he looked at his uncle.

“Get out of my house, Arthur.”

His voice was low, dangerous, but still rough with the remnants of rest.

Vanessa stepped closer, heels clicking. “Darling, be reasonable. You look… rested. Almost human. But we both know this little distraction won’t last. She’s a gold-digger from nowhere. I’m willing to come back, fix your image—”

“Fix my image?” Matthew’s laugh was bitter this time. “You helped Arthur try to destroy me. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

Lucy edged toward the bed, instinctively putting herself between Matthew and the intruders. It was ridiculous — she was five-foot-four in socks and had zero fighting skills — but she did it anyway.

Arthur’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Security is already changing the codes. By tonight, this house — and the company — will be back under proper management. You’ve been unstable for years, Matthew. The court will see that. Especially with photos of you sleeping next to some broke border-town girl.”

The photographer raised his camera again.

Lucy moved without thinking.

She grabbed the silver dinner tray from last night — still holding a half-eaten steak and a very heavy silver cover — and hurled the whole thing like a discus. It slammed into the photographer’s chest with a satisfying thud, sending him stumbling backward into one of the lawyers.

“Oops,” Lucy said sweetly. “Clumsy me.”

Chaos erupted. Bodyguards moved in. Vanessa shrieked. Arthur roared.

Matthew was suddenly on his feet, pulling Lucy behind him with one strong arm. His body was tense, protective, and for the first time in years, he felt… awake. Alive.

“Leave,” he said, voice like ice. “All of you. Or I’ll have you removed for trespassing.”

Arthur smiled thinly. “You can’t stop this, boy. The vote is happening. And your little maid just assaulted my staff. We’ll add that to the list.”

They retreated, but the threat lingered like smoke.

When the doors slammed shut, Matthew turned to Lucy. His hand was still on her arm. His eyes — no longer bloodshot, no longer haunted — searched her face.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.

Lucy swallowed. “Yeah, well… you looked like you needed five more minutes of sleep. Couldn’t let them ruin it.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he brushed a strand of messy hair from her cheek.

“I slept,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “For the first time in five years… I slept because of you.”

Lucy’s face burned. “It was just a turkey story.”

Matthew’s lips curved — not quite a smile, but close. “Stay tonight. Tell me another one.”

Before she could answer, his phone rang. The board. The war had officially begun.