Chapter 2 - The Whispering Lock
Dinner resumed in an atmosphere stretched as thin as piano wire. Silverware clinked against fine china, but nobody at the table dared to speak loudly. Damien sat quietly, occasionally cutting small pieces of roasted tenderloin and setting them onto the small silver plate in front of Lily. The five-year-old ate quietly, her dark curls bouncing slightly as she looked around the room.
Suddenly, Lily reached out her small hand and grabbed the edge of Damien’s black suit sleeve.
Damien paused, setting his fork down, and leaned closer to the child. "What is it, little one?"
Lily did not speak out loud. Instead, her large expressive eyes moved deliberately across the table, locking onto Selene’s lap. Resting against the edge of Selene’s dress was her sleek black clutch. Sticking halfway out from the inner zipper was a private, metallic gold access card bearing the intricate Moretti family crest.
Selene caught the child staring. In an instant, her posture stiffened, and she quickly pressed her hand over the clutch, shoving the metallic card back inside the leather bag.
Damien followed Lily’s gaze, his dark eyes narrowing imperceptibly. He crouched slightly toward the child, his voice dropping into a soft, gentle murmur while keeping his intense gaze locked onto his fiancée.
Lily raised her tiny index finger and pointed toward the grand marble staircase rising in the distance toward the mansion’s private east wing.
"I saw her with it earlier," Lily whispered softly.
"Where?" Damien asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Lily raised her arm higher, pointing directly toward the shadowed second-floor landing. "Upstairs. In the big room with the iron doors."
Selene’s face lost every drop of color. Her eyes widened in genuine panic as she realized the child had witnessed her where she was never supposed to be.
Abruptly, Selene stood up from the dinner table, knocking her dining chair backward with a loud, wooden thud. "This is absurd! Are we really taking security accusations from a maid's child?"
At that exact moment, a faint, high-pitched electronic beep echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
The entire dining hall fell silent once again. Damien turned his head slowly toward the stairs. At the top landing, the heavy oak door leading to his private vault and security office stood slightly open, spilling a thin strip of golden light across the dark corridor.
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Marco Rossi—Damien’s forty-two-year-old security chief—instantly shifted his position near the wall. His hand moved toward his suit jacket, his sharp eyes locking onto the open door upstairs. He looked toward Damien, realizing immediately that someone had used a master access card to bypass the mansion's vault security.
Damien stood up from his chair, his tall frame radiating a cold, lethal aura. "Marco. Lock down the estate."
