Chapter 5
Lorenzo stood up slowly, holding Sofie securely against his broad chest with his left arm while his right hand held the silver pendant like a sacred relic. His broad-shouldered frame loomed towering and formidable against the marble columns, but his posture was rigid with chaotic emotional turmoil.
"Rocco," Lorenzo commanded, his deep baritone stripping away into a tone of absolute, lethal authority. "Clear this hall. Lock the main gates. No one enters or leaves this estate until I say so."
"Yes, Boss," Rocco replied instantly, turning to the four security guards. "You heard him! Clear the perimeter! Secure the doors!"
The guards moved with rapid, disciplined speed, ushering out staff and closing the heavy double oak doors, leaving only Lorenzo, Rocco, Clara, and little Sofie in the vast entrance hall.
Lorenzo looked down at Clara, who remained on her knees on the marble floor, weeping softly, her shoulders shaking with heavy, terrified sobs.
"Up," Lorenzo ordered softly, his voice raspy yet gentle. "Clara, get up. We are going to my private study."
Clara stood up on trembling legs, smoothing down her black-and-white housekeeper uniform with shaking hands, her head bowed in deep submission.
Minutes later, the heavy mahogany double doors of Lorenzo’s private study on the second floor closed with a solid, echoing click. The study was a majestic sanctuary of dark mahogany paneling, leather armchairs, a grand desk, and towering bookshelves, lit by the warm, golden daylight streaming through floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the estate's sprawling pine forest.
Lorenzo set Sofie down gently on a plush leather sofa near the crackling fireplace. The three-year-old girl sat quietly, holding her worn cream stuffed rabbit, her large blue eyes watching the adults with quiet, observant wonder.
Lorenzo walked over to his massive mahogany desk, placing the silver pendant under the warm lamp light. He turned his back to the room for a moment, gripping the edge of the desk, his muscular shoulders working as he fought to maintain his emotional composure.
He turned around smoothly, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Clara, who stood in the center of the Persian rug alongside Rocco.
"Speak, Clara," Lorenzo commanded, his voice deep, raspy, and raw. "Tell me everything. How did you get Julian’s pendant? Why did you hide it inside that rabbit?"
Clara wiped her tear-streaked face with her white apron, taking a shaky, shuddering breath. She looked at Sofie, then raised her brown eyes to meet Lorenzo’s intense, searching gaze.
"Four years ago, Mr. Duca..." Clara began, her voice trembling violently. "...I wasn't a housekeeper. I was a junior pediatric nurse working at a small, private medical clinic in southern Illinois near the river."
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, his stubble catching the amber light of the fireplace.
"It was a rainy night in November," Clara continued, tears spilling over her eyelashes once more. "A man was brought through the rear emergency doors by two strangers who fled immediately. He had been shot twice in the chest, and his car had gone into the river. He was barely conscious, bleeding heavily... but he was holding a young woman's hand who had died in the crash."
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Lorenzo took a heavy step forward, his polished black leather shoes sinking into the Persian rug. "Julian."
"He called himself James, but he wore that silver pendant around his neck," Clara wept softly. "I stayed by his bedside for three days in secret while the clinic doctors tried to stabilize him. He knew he wasn't going to survive his internal injuries. But before he passed away... he told me the truth."
