Chapter 3 - "I'm Not A Thief!"
The guard reached down and snatched the small yellow backpack out of Sophia’s hands.
"Hey! That's mine!" Sophia cried out, reaching for it with her tiny hands. "Give it back!"
"Sophia, sit still!" Rosa wept, pulling her daughter back as the guard unzipped the main compartment.
The room was so quiet that the rustle of cheap polyester sounded like thunder. The guard flipped open the pocket, tipped the bag upside down, and shook it over the marble coffee table.
A small plastic pencil box fell out. A half-eaten apple. A crumpled coloring book.
And then, with a heavy, metallic clatter, a tarnished silver locket attached to a heavy platinum chain tumbled onto the marble table.
Victoria let out an exaggerated gasp. "I knew it! Absolute trash! Using her own child to steal a dead girl's memory!"
"No!" Rosa shrieked, falling to her knees on the cold floor, her hands clasped in desperate prayer. "No, no, no! I swear on my life, I didn't put that in there! I have never seen that locket before in my life! Mr. Cain, please listen to me!"
Julian stepped forward, pulling a pair of thin leather gloves from his pocket. "Call the police, Damon. Or better yet, let our boys handling the docks take care of this. Stealing from the Cain family carries a very specific penalty."
Sophia looked at the silver object on the table, then at her mother crying on her knees, and finally up at the towering man in the black suit. The small child stood up on the sofa, her face red, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.
"I'm not a thief!" Sophia’s small voice echoed through the high ceilings of the drawing room, ringing with a fierce, absolute clarity that stunned every adult in the room. "I'm not a thief! The mean lady put that in my bag when we were taking off our coats!"
The entire room went dead silent.
Victoria’s face turned from smug triumph to dangerous rage. "What did you just say, you little brat?"
"You did!" Sophia screamed, pointing a small, shaking finger directly at Victoria. "You brushed past my bag in the hallway while Mommy was hanging her coat! I saw you drop something shiny inside, but I thought it was a toy!"
"You lying little parasite!" Victoria snapped, taking a furious step toward the sofa, her hand raised as if to strike the child. "I will teach you to mouth off to—"
BOOM!
A deafening crack shattered the silence.
The heavy glass door leading out to the terrace shattered inward as Zeus slammed his hundred-and-twenty-pound body against the frame. The glass cracked into a web of white lines as the massive Cane Corso bared his teeth, letting out a terrifying, throat-tearing roar that shook the very foundations of the room. He slammed against the glass again, his eyes locked onto Victoria, ready to tear through the barricade to protect the child.
Victoria gasped, stumbling back three paces, her face drained of all color.
"Enough!" Damon’s voice cut through the room like an artillery shell.
The room froze instantly. The guards backed away. Zeus stopped slamming against the glass, though his low, rumbling growl continued to vibrate against the floorboards.
Damon walked slowly over to the table. He picked up the heavy silver locket, his fingers tracing the intricate engravings on the back. His face was unreadable, but his dark eyes were burning with a terrifying light.
He turned his gaze toward Victoria.
"You said you were in the west wing all afternoon, Victoria," Damon said, his tone deceptively conversational.
Victoria swallowed hard, adjusting her silk blouse with trembling hands. "I... I was, Damon! I was in my sitting room until Julian called me down!"
Damon stepped closer to her. He raised his hand, pointing to the cuff of her pristine cream silk sleeve. A tiny streak of wet yellow chalk was smeared across her wrist—the exact same cheap yellow chalk that was currently sitting inside Sophia’s opened pencil box.
"You brushed against her bag," Damon said softly. "Just like she said."
Victoria panicked, her voice rising an octave. "Damon, you can't possibly believe a six-year-old maid's daughter over me! I am your sister-in-law! I am family!"
"My wife died three years ago, Victoria," Damon whispered, stepping so close she had to tilt her head back to look into his dark, unforgiving eyes. "That makes you an guest in my house. A guest who has just overstayed her welcome."
He turned his head slightly toward Marcus, his chief of security who stood by the door. "Take Victoria and Julian to the basement holding rooms. Do not let them touch a phone. Do not let them leave."
Julian’s eyes widened in horror. "Damon! Are you insane?! You're arresting us over a maid?!"
"No," Damon replied, looking over his shoulder at the weeping mother holding her sobbing toddler. "I am investigating a breach of my home. And anyone who weaponizes my dead daughter's memory to frame a child will answer to me personally."
The security guards moved in immediately. Despite Julian’s curses and Victoria’s screaming threats, the two were dragged out of the drawing room, their footsteps fading down the long, dark corridor toward the lower levels.
The room fell quiet again, save for the crackle of the fire and the soft weeping of Rosa.
Damon walked back over to the sofa. He crouched down in front of Sophia, dropping to his knees on the carpet so he was at eye level with the crying child.
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He pulled a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently held it out to her.
"Nobody in this house will ever call you a thief again, Sophia," Damon said softly, his voice warmer than anyone had heard it in years. "I give you my word."
