The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 1063

"Who is it?"

Tamara's voice filtered through the door, dripping with annoyance and impatience.

Fitch had been missing for days, the Sloan Group was bankrupt, and she couldn't reach her husband at all. Terrified something horrible had happened to him and feeling completely defenseless, she was already on the verge of a breakdown. Someone actually had the nerve to bother her right now?

The man outside cleared his throat. "It's me, Mr. Lambert."

The voice was a near-perfect match to the old butler's, maybe seventy or eighty percent accurate, save for a faint, unnatural stiffness at the edges.

But muffled through solid wood, the distracted and frantic Tamara didn't notice a thing.

"Come in," she snapped.

"Is there news about Fitch?" she asked, a desperate sliver of hope clinging to the idea that her husband was just temporarily out of reach.

The 'butler' opened the door smoothly and silently. As he stepped inside, he pushed it shut behind him. A soft, distinct *click* echoed in the quiet room.

He had locked it.

The unnatural action instantly set off alarm bells in Tamara's head.

She whipped around from her vanity mirror, glaring at the bizarrely behaving servant.

"Mr. Lambert! If you're coming in, come in. Why the hell are you locking the door?!"

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it from over there. Unlock it!"

"Get out!"

Being trapped in a closed room with a man—even an older servant—made her skin crawl with anxiety. She fell back on her usual haughty, commanding tone, trying to use her status to mask her rising panic.

But the 'butler' acted as if he hadn't heard a word.

He didn't bow in apology or scramble to leave. Instead, he stood tall and slowly raised his head. Every ounce of a servant's humility evaporated instantly, replaced by a complex, scrutinizing gaze she had never seen before.

"Tamara. It's me."

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