Chapter 3 - THE MAID WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE
Sophie had entered the Moretti household under her mother's maiden name.
Sophie Bennett.
Thirty-one.
Born in Milwaukee.
No criminal history.
No connections to organized crime.
Every detail was true.
But it wasn't the whole truth.
Her brother had been Daniel Mercer, a forensic accountant employed by Moretti Holdings.
Eighteen months earlier, Daniel discovered irregular transfers involving shipping contracts and private investment funds.
He reported his findings internally.
Two weeks later, he died.
Sophie never believed the official explanation.
She spent months requesting records, speaking with attorneys, and trying to persuade investigators to reopen the case.
Then someone broke into her apartment.
Nothing valuable was stolen.
But Daniel's photographs were turned facedown.
His files were scattered.
And a note was left on her kitchen table.
LET THE DEAD STAY DEAD.
Sophie moved to Chicago.
Changed jobs.
And eventually applied for work at the Moretti estate.
She wanted to find out who had ordered her brother's death.
She hadn't expected to discover a plot against Lorenzo himself.
"You should have told me," Lorenzo whispered.
Sophie looked at him.
"Would you have believed me?"
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
Eight months earlier, if a housekeeper had accused his wife and oldest lieutenant of conspiracy, he would have ordered an investigation.
But he would also have informed Santino.
And that might have gotten her killed.
He looked away.
"No."
Sophie's eyes filled.
"That's why."
They moved through the service corridor toward the old wine cellar.
Lorenzo knew a maintenance passage connected the cellar to the west garage.
It had been built decades earlier, during Prohibition.
His grandfather had used it to move liquor.
Lorenzo intended to use it to escape.
But Sophie stopped him.
"You can't leave yet."
He turned.
"Why?"
"Because they're going to hurt someone else."
His chest tightened.
"Who?"
She swallowed.
"Your daughter."
The world stopped.
Lorenzo had a nine-year-old daughter named Isabella.
She was his only child.
Quiet.
Brilliant.
Obsessed with astronomy.
Her mother had always treated her like an inconvenience.
Lorenzo had tried to compensate with gifts.
Trips.
Private tutors.
Anything money could buy.
But he'd missed birthdays.
School plays.
And countless ordinary evenings.
Now he stared at Sophie.
"Where is Isabella?"
Sophie's eyes filled.
"Upstairs."
"With whom?"
"Nobody."
His jaw tightened.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I needed you to understand the danger first."
He stepped closer.
"Sophie."
She swallowed.
"Camila told Santino that Isabella knows something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Lorenzo felt panic rising.
He had faced armed rivals without blinking.
He had survived betrayals.
Ambushes.
Threats.
But the thought of his daughter trapped upstairs while his wife plotted against him nearly destroyed his control.
He turned toward the staircase.
Sophie grabbed his wrist.
"Wait."
He looked back.
"Let go."
"There's a guard outside her room."
"Then he'll move."
Sophie's voice hardened.
"And if he doesn't? If he alerts Santino? If Camila orders something before you reach her?"
Lorenzo stopped.
She was right.
He hated that she was right.
Sophie reached into her apron.
She produced a small brass key.
"The old linen lift."
He stared.
"It still works?"
"I repaired it."
For the first time that night, Lorenzo almost smiled.
"You've been busy."
Sophie looked at him.
"I've been trying to stay alive."
They reached the second floor through the narrow service shaft.
Isabella's bedroom stood at the end of the hallway.
A guard sat outside.
Lorenzo recognized him.
A young man named Nico.
He'd worked for the family for three years.
Lorenzo stepped from the shadows.
"Nico."
The guard jumped.
"Boss?"
Lorenzo kept his voice calm.
"Open the door."
Nico hesitated.
"Santino said—"
"I didn't ask what Santino said."
The young man's face drained.
He opened the door.
Isabella sat on her bed wearing pink pajamas.
A telescope stood beside the window.
She looked up.
"Daddy?"
Lorenzo crossed the room.
She ran into his arms.
He held her tightly.
"I'm here, sweetheart."
She began crying.
"Mommy said you weren't coming back."
His chest tightened.
"Why?"
Isabella looked toward Sophie.
May you like
Then whispered:
"Because I saw what she put in your medicine."
