Chapter 5 - The Summons Up the Grand Staircase
The morning sun cast long, pale geometric shadows across the marble tiles of the grand foyer as I finished setting out the morning post on the silver entry table. The crisp autumn air drifted through the high windows, carrying the distant hum of morning traffic from the Chicago highway below. My left shoulder still ached, but the arnica compress Mrs. Gable had applied overnight had dulled the sharpest edges of the pain. I moved quietly, hoping to complete the morning chores before the household fully awakened.
A pair of polished oxfords stepped into my field of vision. I looked up to find Thomas, the senior estate butler, standing before me with a neat, folded slip of heavy cardstock in his hand. His expression was rigidly professional, devoid of any warmth.
"Mr. Moretti wants to see you in his private study on the third floor immediately, Claire," Thomas said, his voice flat. "Bring the maintenance ledger from the service desk with you."
"The maintenance ledger?" I repeated, my hand pausing on the silver tray. "Mr. Moretti, I haven't been assigned to the ledger desk this week."
"He didn't ask for explanations, Claire. He asked for the ledger," Thomas replied, turning on his heel and walking toward the grand staircase without waiting for an acknowledgment.
The walk up the three flights of stairs felt like an ascent toward a verdict. The third floor of the mansion was private territory, far removed from the public opulence of the dining rooms and ballrooms. The hallways here were lined with dark wood paneling and historic family portraits dating back decades before Luca's corporate expansion. The air smelled of aged paper, leather, and polish.
When I reached the heavy double doors of the private study, they were standing slightly ajar. I knocked twice with my knuckles, my breath hitching in my throat as Luca's voice called out from within, bidding me to enter. The study was vast, dominated by a mahogany partner's desk facing floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a panoramic view of the misty city skyline. Luca sat behind the desk, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, examining a collection of vintage architectural blueprints spread out before him.
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He didn't look up immediately as I stepped across the thick Turkish rug, closing the heavy door softly behind me. The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the steady tick of an antique grandfather clock in the corner.
"Shut the door completely, Claire," Luca said without raising his eyes from the blueprints. "And bring that ledger over here."
