Chapter 2 - the locked door
The silence that followed Leah’s words was absolute. Matteo crossed the massive living room in three long, predatory strides. He didn't look at Elara. He knelt down, his large, tattooed hands gently but firmly gripping his daughter's small shoulders.
"Who told you about the blue room, Leah?" Matteo asked. His voice was a low, terrifying rumble, vibrating with a suppressed violence that sent a shiver down Elara’s spine.
Leah didn't answer. She buried her face into the soft fur of her teddy bear, shutting her eyes tightly.
Matteo stood up, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek. He looked down at Elara, who had remained perfectly still on her knees.
"Take her to the nursery," Matteo commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Do not leave her side. Do not speak to the other staff."
Elara nodded. She gently offered her hand to Leah. The little girl hesitated for a fraction of a second before sliding her tiny fingers into Elara’s palm. Together, they walked up the sweeping glass staircase to the second floor of the penthouse. The nursery was a masterpiece of pale pinks and soft creams, filled with expensive toys that looked entirely untouched.
Elara spent the next four hours sitting on the floor with Leah, quietly reading books and building blocks. She didn't push for answers. She simply offered a steady, calm presence. By the time the sun set over the Manhattan skyline, casting long golden shadows across the room, Leah had fallen asleep, her head resting heavily on Elara’s lap.
Elara carefully lifted the child, placing her into the massive, plush bed and pulling the silk covers over her. Once she was sure Leah was deeply asleep, Elara stepped out into the hallway.
The penthouse was eerily quiet. The night staff moved like ghosts, never speaking, their eyes always cast downward. Elara walked down the corridor toward her own assigned quarters, but as she passed the intersection leading to the service wing, she stopped.
The hallway was dimly lit by crystal sconces. At the very end of the corridor, partially obscured by a heavy velvet drape, was a heavy steel door. It looked entirely out of place in the opulent, cream-and-gold aesthetic of the penthouse.
Elara took a step toward it. Her heart beat a slow, steady rhythm. She was a woman who had spent her life managing crises, but the atmosphere of the Duca household felt like a coiled spring ready to snap.
"You shouldn't be wandering."
Elara turned smoothly, her expression betraying no panic. Standing in the shadows was the head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. She was a severe woman in her fifties, wearing a pristine black uniform, her gray hair pulled into a painfully tight knot. Her eyes were sharp and entirely devoid of warmth.
"I was just familiarizing myself with the layout," Elara said politely, her voice calm.
"The only layout you need to know is the path from your quarters to the nursery," Mrs. Gable said coldly, stepping into the light. She looked at the steel door, then back at Elara. "Mr. Duca pays very well for discretion, Miss Vance. The nannies who ask questions do not last long here. The nannies who go looking for answers end up like the woman you replaced."
Elara held the housekeeper's gaze. "What happened to the woman I replaced?"
Mrs. Gable smiled, a thin, cruel stretching of her lips. "She saw something she shouldn't have in the blue room. Sleep well, Miss Vance."
The housekeeper turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows. Elara stood alone in the hallway, looking back at the heavy steel door. She knew she should walk away. But as she turned to leave, she noticed something resting on the marble floor right in front of the door.
May you like
She walked closer, kneeling down. It was a dark red silk ribbon. The exact same kind of ribbon that had been tied in Leah’s hair earlier that day.
Elara picked it up. The silk was perfectly clean, but it felt ice-cold to the touch. Someone had placed it there recently. Someone was trying to send a message, and Elara knew with absolute certainty that this job was no longer just about taking care of a billionaire's daughter. It was about keeping her alive.
