Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Household
By noon, the estate was under complete lockdown. Armed guards in discreet suits patrolled the manicured gardens, and the usual peaceful hum of the mansion felt weighted with suspicion.
Inside the sprawling marble kitchen, Alina sat at the corner of the long prep table, watching Mia eat a small plate of fresh strawberries. Alina’s hands were still shaking slightly as she polished a silver tea tray.
The heavy kitchen doors swung open, and Vincent walked in alone. He had removed his wide-brimmed hat, his long dark wavy hair brushed back, though he still wore his immaculate dark suit.
Alina stood up immediately, smoothing her beige apron nervously. "Mr. Marchetti... I'm so sorry about Mia running out like that. I tried to catch her, I swear she didn't mean to interfere—"
Vincent raised a hand, stopping her words gently. "Alina. Relax."
He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down across from the three-year-old girl. Mia looked up from her strawberries, her large brown eyes watching him without fear.
"You saved my life today, little one," Vincent said softly, his voice resonant in the quiet kitchen. "Where exactly were you when you saw the man near the car?"
Mia pointed toward the kitchen window that overlooked the lower courtyard near the garage entrance. "I was looking at the rain. The lights went out for a second."
Alina spoke up hesitantly. "There was a brief power flicker around midnight, sir. The storm knocked out the courtyard light for about two minutes before the back-up generator kicked in."
"And the man you saw," Vincent continued, looking back at Mia. "Was he tall? Was he wearing a coat like mine?"
Mia shook her head. "No. He had shiny shoes. And he dropped the silver shiny button in the water."
Vincent thought back to Frank’s clothing. Frank had been wearing standard rubber-soled work shoes when inspecting vehicles. Julian Marchetti, however, was famous for his handcrafted Italian leather dress shoes—polished to a mirror shine.
Vincent stood up, looking at Alina with a quiet intensity. "How long have you worked here, Alina?"
"Two years, Mr. Marchetti. Since my husband passed away in the factory accident."
Vincent nodded slowly. He remembered the accident—a supplier’s warehouse fire on the south side. He had personally ensured the widow received a generous monthly stipend, though he had never connected her face to the quiet maid who kept his private wing clean.
"Starting today, you and Mia are moving into the family wing on the second floor," Vincent announced firmly. "You won't be cleaning guest rooms anymore. You will stay close to my private detail."
Alina’s eyes widened in shock. "Sir? We couldn't possibly—that's for family and senior guests. I'm just staff."
"You are the mother of the girl who saved me from an explosive device," Vincent replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Whoever put that device under my car knows Mia saw something. Until I find out who is pulling the strings, this estate is not safe for anyone standing on the sidelines."
Before Alina could process his words, Dominic appeared at the kitchen doorway, his expression grave.
"Vincent," Dominic said sharply. "Julian just pulled up to the front gate. And he brought two senior bosses from the Chicago Commission with him."
Vincent’s blue eyes darkened. "He brought the Commission here without my permission?"
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"He called an emergency meeting," Dominic added, his hand resting near his side. "He’s claiming you're no longer fit to hold the head seat after 'security lapses' on the property."
Vincent straightened his coat, his expression transforming into absolute steel. "Let them in. Let’s see what my brother thinks he’s playing at."
