Chapter 2 - SHADOWS IN THE HOUSEHOLD
By 2:00 AM, the estate was under absolute quarantine. No one entered; no one left. The eighteen staff members who lived in the mansion's east wing had been assembled in the lower conservatory.
I stood near the back of the room, my arm wrapped around Lily while she slept soundly across two velvet armchair cushions. Around me, gardeners, sous-chefs, and junior maids murmured in hushed, panicked whispers.
Dominic stood near the fireplace, flanked by Frankie and two armed guards. His presence alone commanded absolute silence the moment he stepped into the center of the floor.
"Someone in this house assisted an outsider today," Dominic said without preamble. His tone was deceptively calm, which made it ten times more terrifying than if he had been shouting. "Someone gave a fake catering contractor access to the cold room, and someone provided a keycard to the chemical storage wing."
He pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was a silver keycard—my keycard.
I gasped, reaching instinctively for my apron pocket. It was empty.
"Clara," Frankie said, stepping forward with an unreadable expression. "Your card was used at 3:14 PM to access the service corridor leading to the cold room."
Every eye in the room snapped to me. The sous-chef stepped away from my side as if I were carrying a contagious disease.
"No!" I said, my voice rising as panic seized my chest. "I didn't lose my card! I had it during the morning inventory check at eleven!"
"You're the head housekeeper, Clara," Frankie continued coldly. "You have master access to every pantry, every closet, and every prep room in this mansion."
"She was upstairs with me from two o'clock until the party started!" a soft voice called out from the doorway.
We all turned.
Ethan stood at the entrance of the conservatory, wearing his blue pajamas. His face was pale, but his posture was firm. Behind him, Dr. Harris tried gently to guide him back to bed, but the eight-year-old stood his ground.
"Dad," Ethan said, looking directly at Dominic. "Clara was in my room helping me fix my collar and set up the board games from two to three-thirty. She never left the second floor."
Dominic looked at his son, then turned his gaze back to the gathered staff. "Ethan is right. Clara was with him. Which means someone took her card while she was working."
He stepped closer to the line of staff members, his eyes scanning each face with terrifying precision. "Whoever took her card knew her daily schedule. They knew she leaves her master ring in the pantry locker while she does the second-floor rounds."
A quiet, nervous shift went through the front row of staff.
I looked down the line and caught the eye of Brenda, the newly hired assistant logistics coordinator. She was staring intently at her polished black shoes, her breath coming in short, shallow hitches.
"Brenda," Dominic said softly, stopping right in front of her.
Brenda flinched. "Mr. Moretti... I didn't—"
"You asked Clara to check the second-floor linen inventory at one-thirty," Dominic recalled, his memory sharp as a razor. "You specifically asked her to inspect Ethan's suite."
Brenda’s knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, tears instantly bursting from her eyes. "They told me they just wanted to drop off a business letter! They said it was about a contract dispute! They promised no one would get hurt!"
May you like
"Who is 'they'?" Dominic asked, crouching down beside her with chilling composure.
"The Valenti family," Brenda sobbed. "They... they have my brother in Brooklyn. They said if I didn't leave the service door unlatched and drop Clara's keycard in the laundry bin, they'd kill him!"
