Chapter 6 - The Threat at the Iron Gates
The grand entrance hall of the Duca mansion was illuminated by the brilliant crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. Standing near the marble fireplace was Uncle Marco Duca—a sharp-faced, sixty-year-old man in a dark grey suit—alongside his thirty-five-year-old son, Julian.
Marco was pacing furiously across the marble floor, his polished cane clicking against the stone.
"This is an outrage, Frank!" Marco shouted at the security chief standing near the doors. "Renata has served this household for fifteen years! You have no authority to lock her in an office over a stolen trinket!"
The heavy oak doors of the private study opened.
Lorenzo walked into the grand hall. He moved with slow, deliberate authority, carrying four-year-old Emma on his broad hip. Mrs. Harper walked beside him, her head held high, while Pino walked at Lorenzo's knee, his broad chest forward, his dark eyes fixed on Marco.
Marco stopped pacing. His eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock as he saw the junior maid walking beside Lorenzo, guarded by the massive Doberman.
"Lorenzo!" Marco stammered, recovering his arrogant demeanor. "What is the meaning of this circus? Why are you carrying the servant's brat?"
Lorenzo stopped ten feet from his uncle. His light-brown suit was immaculate, his dark eyes cold as liquid nitrogen.
"Watch your tongue in front of the child, Marco," Lorenzo said, his deep voice carrying a lethal vibration that shook the high-ceilinged room.
Julian stepped forward, pointing an aggressive finger at Mrs. Harper. "That maid is a thief, Lorenzo! Renata found your father's gold clock in her locker! She should be in handcuffs, not walking through the main hall!"
"Renata put the clock there, Julian," Lorenzo replied flatly. "On Marco's orders."
Marco’s sharp face flushed bright red. "That is a slanderous lie! You take the word of a common maid over your own blood?!"
Marco took an aggressive step toward Mrs. Harper, reaching out his hand to grab her arm. "Get out of this house, you little thief—"
GRRRRRRRR.
Before Marco's fingers could touch Mrs. Harper's sleeve, Pino lunged forward. The massive Doberman stood directly between Marco and Mrs. Harper, his sharp teeth bared in a terrifying, silent snarl, his muscles locked like iron.
Marco froze mid-step, his face draining of all color as the dog’s hot breath touched his trousers.
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Lorenzo stepped past the dog, his tall frame looming over his uncle like an executioner.
"Touch her again, Marco," Lorenzo whispered softly, "and I will let Pino finish his job."
