Chapter 2 - The forbidden wing
The warmth of the chandeliers suddenly felt like ice against Rosa’s skin. Dante’s genuine amusement vanished, replaced instantly by a chilling, predatory stillness. His dark eyes darted from Sophia’s innocent face up to Rosa, pinning the young maid to the marble floor with a look of absolute, lethal suspicion.
He didn't yell. He didn't have to. He simply turned his head slightly toward the bodyguards.
"Take the child to the gardens," Dante ordered, his voice devoid of all emotion. "Now."
Rosa’s maternal instinct flared. She stepped between Dante and the bodyguard who had moved forward. "Please, Mr. Falcone. She’s only three. She has an imaginary friend, she makes things up all the time. She didn't mean any disrespect."
Dante looked down at Rosa, noting the way her small hands trembled against her white apron. "I did not ask for an explanation, Rosa. I gave an order."
The bodyguard gently took Sophia’s hand. The little girl happily skipped away, completely unaware of the bomb she had just dropped. Left alone in the massive hallway with the mafia boss, Rosa felt the air grow thin.
Dante took a slow step toward her. The sheer size of his heavily muscular frame was overwhelming up close. He leaned down, the faint scent of expensive cologne and dark tobacco wrapping around her.
"How long have you been working in this house?" Dante asked softly.
"Six months, sir," Rosa whispered, her eyes fixed on the open collar of his black shirt, too terrified to meet his gaze.
"And in those six months, what were you told about the east wing?"
"That it is strictly forbidden. That anyone who crosses the threshold without your explicit permission will be terminated immediately."
"Then how," Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "does a three-year-old orphan under your care know that there is a woman behind that door?"
Rosa shook her head frantically, tears pricking her eyes. "I swear to you on my life, Mr. Falcone, Sophia has never been out of my sight. She plays in the servant quarters and the gardens. She has never been near the east wing."
Dante studied her face for a long, agonizing moment. He was an expert at reading liars, and the pure terror in the pretty brunette's eyes was undeniably real. He stepped back, straightening his vest. "Keep her away from that hallway. If she mentions the locked room again, you will both be gone."
He turned and walked away, his heavy boots echoing on the black-and-white marble.
That night, Rosa lay awake in her small room in the servant quarters. Sophia was fast asleep beside her, her curly brown hair spilling over the pillow, clutching her stuffed bunny. Rosa couldn't shake the cold dread in her chest. She had brought Sophia into this house to give her a better life, acting as her guardian after the child was left at the church steps where Rosa used to work. But the Falcone estate was not a sanctuary; it was a fortress hiding dark secrets.
Unable to sleep, Rosa quietly got out of bed. She needed to know what Sophia had seen. She slipped out of her room, moving silently through the dark mansion. She bypassed the security cameras, a skill she had quietly learned over the past six months, until she stood at the entrance of the east wing.
The hallway was bathed in shadows. At the very end stood the heavy oak door, locked from the outside with a massive brass deadbolt.
Rosa crept closer, her heart hammering against her ribs. As she reached the door, her foot brushed against something soft on the floor. She looked down. Resting right at the crack beneath the heavy door was a small, hand-drawn picture on a piece of construction paper.
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Rosa picked it up. It was a drawing of two stick figures holding hands. One was a little girl in a pink dress. The other was a woman with long, dark hair.
But what made the breath leave Rosa’s lungs was the bottom corner of the paper. Written in elegant, shaky handwriting, in ink that looked freshly dried, were three words: Keep her safe.
