Chapter 8 - the viper in the house
The revelation hung in the air like heavy smoke.
Rico walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the dark, snow-covered grounds of the estate. His broad shoulders were tense, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.
"Elena’s car brake lines were severed the night she drove to the cottage," Rico explained, his voice flat, emotionless, but laced with terrifying grief. "For six months, I thought it was a rival family from Manhattan. But last week, my investigators found an offshore payment made from a shell company registered in New Jersey."
"A company owned by Bianca," Dante added quietly.
Clara stepped closer to the desk. "Why would Bianca want to kill her own sister-in-law?"
"Because Elena was preparing to hand over thirty percent of the Moretti shipping holdings to a private charity trust," Rico said, turning around to face her. "A trust that Bianca had been embezzling from for five years. If Elena lived... Bianca was going to prison."
Clara looked down at the DNA report on the desk. "And if I die... or if Leo remains traumatized... Bianca takes control of the family trust as the senior female relative."
"Exactly," Rico said smoothly.
Just then, a faint crying sound echoed from down the hallway.
Leo was awake.
Clara didn't hesitate. Ignoring Rico and Dante, she turned and ran out of the study, hurrying down the carpeted corridor toward the nursery.
She opened the door to find little Leo sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his angelic, fair cheeks, clutching his teddy bear as he sobbed into the dark.
"I'm here, sweetheart," Clara whispered warmly, rushing to his side and lifting him into her arms.
Leo immediately wrapped his small arms around her neck, burying his face in her pink apron. "Don't go, pink lady... don't let the dark get me."
Rico stepped into the nursery doorway, stopping in his tracks as he watched the young woman rock his crying son back and forth, humming a soft, sweet lullaby.
Within two minutes, Leo’s crying stopped completely. His breathing slowed, and he fell back asleep against her shoulder.
Rico stood in the doorway, staring at Clara with an expression that was no longer cold or suspicious—but filled with something rare, powerful, and deeply dangerous.
"You're staying," Rico declared flatly, his deep voice softer than before. "Not just as a nanny. You're moving into the master suite next to Leo."
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Clara looked up, her brown eyes meeting his dark gaze. "And what about Bianca?"
"Bianca thinks she set a trap tonight," Rico smiled darkly. "Tomorrow night is the annual winter gala at the estate. We let her spring it."
