Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Servants' CorridorDownstairs in the vast, immaculate kitchens, Sophia poured herself a cup of cold water, her hands still shaking. Emma sat at the small wooden table, swinging her legs back and forth while she finished a small piece of toast.
"Mommy, why was Mr. Moretti looking so sad?" Emma asked, tilting her head.
Sophia knelt beside her daughter, smoothing down the child’s dark curls. "Mr. Moretti is just busy, sweetheart. Grown-ups have a lot of work to do."
"He looked like he wanted to cry," Emma insisted softly. "Just like when my dolly lost its arm."
Sophia swallowed hard, a knot tightening in her throat. She had worked in the Moretti household long enough to know that men like Aleandro Moretti did not cry. They calculated. They punished. They dismantled threats with the cold efficiency of executioners.
The memory of the stranger in the hallway—the man with blood on his sleeve and sugar cakes for a little girl—flashed through Sophia's mind. Isabella had lied to Aleandro’s face about who the man was. She had claimed he was an old friend of her father’s in financial distress. But Sophia knew the dark world their employer inhabited; men in financial distress did not slip through service corridors at three in the morning carrying encrypted communications.
A sudden, sharp knock at the kitchen service door made Sophia jump.
She opened it cautiously. Standing on the stone landing was Marco Rivera, Aleandro’s head of security and his most trusted lieutenant. Marco’s sharp eyes scanned the kitchen before landing on Sophia.
"Sophia," Marco said, his voice flat and professional. "Mr. Moretti wants you and Emma moved to the east wing guest quarters for the remainder of the week."
Sophia’s breath caught. "The east wing? But... my quarters are on the ground floor near the laundry."
"Orders from the Don," Marco replied, stepping aside to let two armed guards enter the hallway. "Pack your things. You’ll be more secure there."
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"Is something wrong?" Sophia asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Marco looked down at her with a gaze that was entirely devoid of malice, yet filled with a grim, heavy warning. "Everything is wrong, Sophia. But Mr. Moretti intends to make it right before the sun sets."
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