Chapter 2 - The velvet illusion
The dining room of the Duca mansion was a masterpiece of intimidating wealth. A long mahogany table sat beneath a sprawling crystal chandelier, set with fine china and heavy silver. Lorenzo sat at the head of the table, his demeanor flawlessly composed, cutting his steak with precise, unhurried movements. Across from him sat Vivien, radiant in a black velvet cocktail dress, sipping a glass of expensive red wine.
You are awfully quiet tonight, Lorenzo, Vivien observed, her red lips curving into a practiced, perfect smile. Is the syndicate business weighing on you?
Lorenzo met her gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. Just contemplating the future, Vivien. The council is pushing for stability. They want to see a queen in this house.
Vivien’s eyes flashed with triumphant greed, though she hid it quickly behind a modest sip of her wine. They are traditional men. They understand that a powerful man needs a woman who understands his world. Someone who can handle the pressure.
The heavy dining doors swung open, and Elena stepped in. She carried a silver tray holding a fresh bottle of wine. She moved with quiet grace, her black uniform rustling softly. Lorenzo watched her through his peripheral vision. He analyzed her natural micro-expressions. The way her shoulders tensed when she stepped closer to Vivien. The way she kept her eyes strictly glued to the floor.
As Elena reached over to pour the wine into Vivien’s glass, Vivien subtly shifted her arm, intentionally bumping the maid’s wrist.
A splash of dark red wine spilled onto the pristine white tablecloth.
Oh, you clumsy idiot, Vivien hissed, her elegant mask slipping for a fraction of a second. Look what you’ve done.
Elena immediately grabbed a white cloth from her apron, her hands trembling violently. I am so sorry, Miss Vivien. I will clean it immediately.
Lorenzo did not intervene. He watched Elena’s reaction. It wasn't just fear of a wealthy guest. It was the deep, suffocating terror of a woman whose life was being held hostage. He noticed the way Elena’s eyes darted toward the hallway, specifically toward the wing where Mia’s playroom was located.
Leave it, Lorenzo said, his deep voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
Elena froze.
I said leave it, Elena, Lorenzo repeated, softer this time, his gaze locking onto hers. Go check on Mia. Ensure she is asleep.
A profound, desperate relief washed over Elena’s face. Thank you, sir, she whispered, quickly gathering her tray and practically fleeing the room.
Vivien scoffed, dabbing at the tablecloth with her napkin. You are entirely too lenient with the help, Lorenzo. If she worked in my household, she would have been dismissed weeks ago. She is incompetent.
Perhaps, Lorenzo murmured, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his wine. But she has a certain connection with my daughter. Mia seems to adore her.
Vivien’s smile tightened, a flash of genuine malice crossing her eyes. Children attach themselves to anyone who gives them sweets and pity. It isn't healthy. Mia needs a real mother figure. Someone with authority.
Lorenzo smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. Indeed she does.
Later that night, the mansion was cloaked in silence. Lorenzo bypassed his master suite and walked silently toward the staff quarters in the east wing. He bypassed the security cameras with the ease of a man who owned the system. He stopped outside Elena’s small, modest room. The door was slightly ajar.
May you like
He looked inside. The room was dark, illuminated only by a small bedside lamp. Elena was sitting on the edge of her narrow bed, holding a small, crumpled piece of paper. She was weeping silently, her hand pressed over her mouth to muffle the sounds.
Lorenzo’s chest tightened. He was a ruthless man, a killer when necessary, but the raw, unfiltered agony of the woman in his house stirred a violent protective instinct within him. He memorized the exact shape of her profile, the way her brunette hair tumbled down her back, realizing that the maid he had ignored for six months was the center of a massive conspiracy. He turned and walked back to his study. It was time to hunt.
