Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Fortress
By nine o'clock that evening, the estate was cloaked in heavy fog rolling off the bay. Vivien had retired to the west wing after an agonizing two-hour dinner where she laughed at my dry jokes, stroked my forearm, and complained about the caterers for our upcoming engagement gala on Saturday night.
"Two hundred guests, Lorenzo," she had purred, touching a napkin to her lip. "The governor, three Supreme Court judges, the press corps. It will be the event of the century."
"It will be unforgettable," I had told her.
Now, I walked down the carpeted corridor of the third-floor private suite. I pushed open the double doors of the nursery suite where Elena sat on the edge of an armchair, rocking little Mia. The child was fast asleep, clutching a plush brown bear.
When Elena saw me, she sprang up, sheer terror draining the color from her lips. "Mr. Duca—please! I didn't steal anything, I swear! Two guards brought us up here and—"
"Sit down, Elena," I said gently, lowering my voice so as not to wake the child.
Elena trembled, her knuckles white against the fleece blanket. She was twenty-six years old, slender, with exhausted gray eyes that had known nothing but work, worry, and poverty since her husband died in an industrial accident two years ago.
"I was standing outside my mother's bedroom door at five o'clock," I said directly.
Elena froze. Her breath caught in her throat, a choked sob tearing from her lips. "You... you heard?"
"I heard every word Vivien said to you."
Tears spilled over Elena’s lashes, cascading down her cheeks. She sank to her knees on the Persian rug, head bowed in supplication. "Kill me if you have to, Mr. Duca! Fire me! But please, I beg you with my soul, don't let her touch Mia. You don't know what Miss Vivien is capable of. She told me she would have child services declare me unfit and put Mia in an unregistered foster home where she’d disappear forever! She said she owns the judges!"
I stepped forward, bent down, and took Elena by her trembling forearms, lifting her back to her feet with firm, respectful care.
"Look at me, Elena."
She lifted her tear-stained eyes.
"No one touches your daughter," I stated, each syllable carved from iron. "No one touches you. In this house, my word is the law, not Vivien Russo's. You protected my mother as best you could under an impossible threat. You are not a maid anymore. You are my family’s guest, and you are under my personal protection."
Elena stared at me in shock. "Your mother... Mr. Duca, your mother isn't sick the way they say! She isn't brain-dead! When Miss Vivien leaves the room, your mother cries. She grips my wrist with two fingers. She’s trapped inside her own mind!"
"I know," I answered, my voice softening. "We found the neuro-toxin. Rocco is bringing the counter-agent right now. But I need you to stay strong for two more days. Can you do that for me?"
"I'll do anything," she choked out. "Anything to keep Mia safe. Anything to save Isabella."
From the bed, a tiny voice piped up in the dim light. "Uncle Renzo?"
Mia was sitting up, rubbing her big brown eyes, her unruly curls tumbling over her shoulders. She looked at me, then looked at her mother’s wet face. Slipping down from the massive bed, her bare feet pattered across the rug. She came straight to me, wrapping both arms around my left knee.
"Don't let the bad witch back in Grandma Isabella's room," the little girl whispered, her face pressed against my slacks. "The bad witch pinches Grandma when she doesn't close her eyes."
A terrifying chill ran straight through my marrow. *Vivien pinched her.* Vivien physically tormented a paralyzed woman while she lay trapped in her bed.
I knelt down until I was eye-level with the three-year-old child. I reached out and gently smoothed her curls behind her ear.
May you like
"The bad witch is leaving, Mia," I promised her softly. "And she is never coming back."
***
