Chapter 2 - The Echoes of Betrayal-2-
The next morning, the house felt different. The air was charged with a tension that was less about the boss's mood and more about the secret workings of the estate. I didn't see Alessandro, but his presence was a ghost in every room. I found the box of butter cookies in the pantry, just as he had promised, tucked away as if they were a state secret.
Emma was in high spirits, oblivious to the atmosphere. "We go see him?" she asked, her eyes wide.
"No, Emma. We have to work. You stay in the staff room today. No wanderings, no promises."
But as I began my duties—dusting the endless rows of books in the library—I felt like I was being watched. Not by the cameras, which I had long ago learned to ignore, but by the walls themselves. I kept thinking about the laboratory report the headline had mentioned, though I had no idea what it meant.
Around noon, the head of staff, a formidable woman named Mrs. Halloway, approached me. Her face was a landscape of deep-set lines and iron-gray hair.
"Mr. Moretti requests your daughter's presence in the solarium," she said. Her voice was devoid of emotion.
"Is... is everything alright?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Mr. Moretti does not make requests that are not of importance, Ms. Miller. You would do well to remember that."
I followed her, holding Emma’s hand so tightly I feared I might bruise her skin. The solarium was a glass-walled room on the south side of the estate, filled with exotic, drooping plants that seemed to struggle against the Chicago winter. Alessandro was there, his wheelchair positioned in the center of the room. He was staring at a set of files spread across his lap.
When he saw us, he looked up. There was a dark bruise under one eye, and his skin looked paler than yesterday.
"Sarah," he acknowledged. "Leave us."
"I can't—"
"I am perfectly capable of ensuring her safety, Sarah. That is not the concern."
I hesitated, but the look in his eyes—a flicker of something that looked like desperation—made me step back. I went to the edge of the room, keeping a watchful eye on them.
Alessandro gestured for Emma to come closer. She trotted over, clutching a new toy—a wooden block she had found.
"Do you know why people hurt each other, Emma?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Emma tilted her head. "They don't share?"
Alessandro let out a short, sharp laugh that turned into a cough. He wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. I saw a streak of red—blood. My heart stopped.
"Yes," he whispered. "They don't share. And sometimes, they take what isn't theirs."
He held up a piece of paper. It was a document, part of that laboratory report. I couldn't see the contents, but I saw the letterhead: Chicago Forensic Institute.
"There is a betrayal, Emma. A slow one. A quiet one." He looked at her, his expression intense. "If you saw someone doing something they weren't supposed to, would you tell?"
"Mama says tell the truth," she said simply.
Alessandro’s face darkened. "The truth is a dangerous thing to hold, little one."
He suddenly moved, his hand darting out to grab the edge of his wheelchair. He looked at me, his eyes burning. "Sarah, listen to me carefully. Get your daughter out of this house. Not tonight, not tomorrow. Now. Take your things and go to the service entrance. Don't look back."
"What? Why?"
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"Because they’re coming," he said, looking toward the heavy glass doors of the solarium. "And I don't want her to see what happens when the king of the castle falls."
Before I could speak, the glass doors burst open. Men in dark suits, faces obscured by masks, flooded the room. I grabbed Emma, pulling her behind a large planter, my breath hitching in my throat. This wasn't just a business deal. This was a war.
