Chapter 4 - the silent corridor
Clara stared at the handwritten note in her hand, her blood running cold. The handwriting was elegant, precise, and distinctly feminine.
Who had slipped this into a three-year-old’s clothing? Was it someone at the restaurant, or had someone inside this house slipped it to him before they left for dinner?
She looked back at Leo, who was breathing peacefully, his tiny thumb tucked into his mouth as he held his teddy bear tight.
Clara folded the note and tucked it deep inside her apron pocket. She quietly slipped off her black flats and stepped out into the quiet hallway. The mansion was deadly silent, save for the faint creaking of the timber framing against the winter wind outside.
She walked softly down the carpeted hallway toward the east wing. Heavy velvet drapes covered the tall arched windows, blocking out the moonlight. At the far end of the corridor stood a heavy double oak door reinforced with brass studs. A thick iron padlock hung from the handles.
Clara took a step closer, noticing faint traces of white dust near the threshold—as if the room had been sealed shut for months.
"Curiosity killed more than just cats in this house, Miss Vance."
Clara spun around, her breath catching in her throat.
Standing near the grand staircase was a striking thirty-five-year-old woman wearing a midnight-blue silk gown. Her fair skin was framed by dark, sculpted hair, and her sharp blue eyes held an icy, calculated sneer. It was Bianca Moretti—Rico’s sister-in-law, widow to his late older brother.
"I was just looking for the linen closet," Clara said smoothly, regaining her composure.
Bianca glided forward, her high heels making no sound on the thick Persian runner. She stopped a few feet from Clara, her eyes narrowing as they landed on the silver locket around Clara's neck. A subtle shift occurred in Bianca’s expression—a flicker of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"That room belongs to Elena," Bianca said softly, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "Rico locked it the night she died. Nobody goes in. Nobody comes out. Just like Elena."
"I have no interest in family secrets, Miss Moretti," Clara replied calmly. "I'm only here to make sure Leo sleeps through the night."
Bianca took a step closer, her sweet perfume thick and suffocating. "Leo is a broken child from a broken mother. Do not mistake Rico's desperation for kindness, Clara. He brought you here because you look useful. But once he realizes you can't replace the dead... he will throw you away just like the rest."
Before Clara could reply, heavy footsteps echoed from the staircase. Dante appeared, his towering frame casting a long shadow over both women.
"The boss wants to see you in the study, Bianca," Dante said, his voice flat and unyielding. "Now."
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Bianca smiled coldly at Clara before turning on her heel and gliding away down the corridor. Dante lingered for a moment, his stern eyes searching Clara's face.
"Get some sleep, Miss Vance," Dante warned softly. "Tomorrow morning, the family lawyers arrive."
