Chapter 4 - The Shadow at the Gate
Three days passed in a state of agonizing, silent tension.
I kept Mia inside our small third-floor apartment, giving her coloring books and building blocks, while I continued my daily housekeeping duties to avoid raising suspicion among the staff.
Every afternoon at 3:00 PM, while the security guards rotated shifts at the main gate, Elena would sneak Mia up the rear service stairwell into Lorenzo’s medical room.
Mia would climb onto the small wooden chair beside his bed, hold his large, motionless hand in her tiny fingers, and sing.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..." her sweet, childish voice would echo softly against the stainless-steel medical equipment.
And every single time she sang, Lorenzo's vital signs responded. His heart rate stabilized, his oxygen levels improved, and the brainwave monitor showed erratic, surging spikes of activity. He was fighting his way back from the dark.
On the fourth evening, everything broke.
It was 8:00 PM when a fleet of three black SUVs pulled up the long stone driveway of the Moretti estate.
I was in the main parlor cleaning the crystal chandeliers when the heavy double doors flew open. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a bespoke gray suit stepped inside, accompanied by four armed men with dark coats.
It was Matteo Moretti—Lorenzo’s first cousin, and the man who had assumed temporary control of the family's business operations after the accident.
Isabella met them in the foyer, her face an unreadable mask of cold authority.
"Matteo," Isabella said, not bowing her head. "You did not inform me you were coming tonight."
"I don't need to inform a housekeeper when I visit my cousin's estate, Isabella," Matteo replied, his voice deep, gravelly, and laced with arrogant smooth menace. He removed his leather gloves, scanning the grand foyer with sharp, greedy eyes.
He stopped when his eyes landed on me standing on the brass cleaning ladder.
"Who is she?" Matteo demanded, pointing a gloved finger in my direction.
"A new maid," Isabella answered instantly. "Clara Bennett. She handles the east wing."
Matteo walked toward my ladder, his expensive shoes clicking sharply against the marble floor. He stopped at the base, looking up at me with an unsettling, predatory scrutiny.
"You look nervous, Clara," Matteo purred, a dark smile touching his lips. "Are you afraid of dark suits?"
"No, sir," I said, keeping my voice flat, holding my cleaning cloth tightly. "I was just surprised by the entrance."
Matteo reached out, his hand casually resting on the wooden rung of my ladder.
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"I hear rumors, Isabella," Matteo said, turning his head slightly toward the silver-haired estate manager. "A doctor in the city told me that Lorenzo’s neurological monitors showed unexplained spikes two days ago. They say a child’s voice was heard near the medical wing."
My heart stopped dead in my chest.
