Chapter 2 - THE HOUSEKEEPER’S TERROR
In the bowels of the mansion,
away from the glitter and the gold,
the kitchens were a blur of frantic activity.
Elena,
the head housekeeper,
was counting the silver platters,
her mind racing with the logistics of the gala.
She had lived in the Verrone estate for two years,
a ghost in a house of giants,
working to keep Mia fed and safe.
She was a woman of quiet beauty,
with hair the color of midnight and a gaze that stayed on the floor.
She didn't know about the silence in the hall,
she didn't know about the request,
until the heavy doors swung open.
Rafael Conti entered the kitchen,
his presence a cold shadow that froze the staff in their tracks,
and his eyes landed on Elena.
"Where is your daughter?"
he asked,
his voice a flat line of professional detachment.
Elena felt her heart drop into her stomach,
her hands shaking so hard the silver platter clattered to the floor.
"Mia?"
she gasped,
"is she okay?"
"Did she break something?"
"I'm sorry,"
"please,"
"don't hurt her."
Rafael didn't answer her pleas,
he simply gestured for her to follow him,
his expression unreadable.
Elena walked through the corridors she usually cleaned,
feeling like a prisoner on the way to the gallows,
her mind filled with images of Damiano’s wrath.
She knew the stories of the men who had disappeared,
the men who had crossed the Verrone family,
and she feared her daughter had become the next victim.
When she reached the grand hall,
the sight stopped her breath.
Damiano Verrone was standing near the staircase,
his black tuxedo sharp and lethal,
and her daughter was holding his hand.
Mia looked up at her mother,
her face glowing with a pride that Elena didn't understand,
and she waved the red crayon heart.
"Mommy!"
Mia chirped,
"the boss said yes!"
"He's going to my school!"
Elena fell to her knees,
her head bowed,
tears of terror streaming down her face.
"Mr. Verrone,"
she sobbed,
"I am so sorry,"
"she is just a child,"
"she didn't mean it."
"I will take her away,"
"we will leave tonight,"
"just please,"
"don't punish her."
Damiano looked down at the weeping woman,
his expression masked in the dim light of the hall,
and he felt a surge of irritation.
"Get up,"
he commanded,
the authority in his voice making the marble vibrate.
Elena looked up,
trembling,
her eyes wide with confusion.
"She asked for a father,"
Damiano said,
looking at the girl,
"and I have agreed."
"Why did she feel the need to ask a stranger?"
Elena swallowed hard,
her voice barely a whisper,
"Her father is gone,"
"he died before she was born,"
"and the kids at school,"
"they are cruel,
sir."
"They told her she didn't have anyone,"
"that she was just a servant's child."
Damiano’s jaw tightened,
a muscle ticking in his cheek,
as he processed the mother’s words.
"She is not just a servant's child,"
he said,
his voice dropping to a dangerous level,
"she is a guest in this house."
"Starting tomorrow,"
"she will have a father."
"And you,"
"you will prepare her for a school day like no other."
Damiano turned to Rafael,
giving a silent order that the right hand understood perfectly.
"Clear my schedule,"
Damiano barked,
"all of it."
"The meetings with the Castri family,"
"the shipment at the docks,"
"everything."
"Tomorrow,"
"I am unavailable."
Elena watched as the most powerful man in New York walked up the stairs,
leaving her alone in the grand hall with her daughter.
The guests were watching her,
their eyes filled with envy and shock,
and she realized that her life had changed in a single moment.
Mia hugged her mother’s neck,
whispering about the boss’s soft hands,
but Elena could only look at the staircase.
She had worked for the devil,
May you like
and now,
the devil was going to a primary school.
