Chapter 1: The Weight of the Locked Doors
The heavy double doors swung shut with a muffled, heavy thud that rattled the crystal pendants of the chandelier above. Across the dark marble table, the small black box lay silent, its tiny LED indicator burning a steady, unblinking red. I stood frozen with my hands still gripping the smooth dark wood of the chair back, my fingers digging into the edge as the air in the formal dining room turned cold. Every muscle in my arms locked tight. The silence that followed the transmission was heavier than the mahogany furniture, pressing down on my chest until my breathing felt too loud.
My name is Grace. I was just the girl hired to clear the plates, not the one expected to uncover an electronic ear pinned beneath the boss's seat.
Luca Moretti didn't move. He sat at the head of the long table in his black suit and dark shirt, his tattooed hands resting flat against the marble surface. His gaze remained fixed on the small transmitter sitting between his fingers, his expression stripped of all casual warmth. Across from him, Vanessa Bellini clutched the edge of the table, her red strapless dress catching the amber glow of the lights while her diamond necklace rose and fell with her shallow, panicked breaths. The two security guards in black suits and earpieces stood rigidly at attention beside the sealed entrance, completely blocking any path out of the room.
"My who cleared this room?" Luca's voice was low, cutting through the heavy silence without raising a decibel. "Who knew this room was holding a private meeting here at dinner?"
Vanessa shifted her weight, her manicured fingernails clicking against the stone tabletop. "Luca, I can explain—" she began, her voice cracking slightly on the final syllable before she caught herself and snapped her mouth shut.
"Good, close the doors," Luca had already commanded the guards moments before, and now those heavy panels were firmly bolted from the inside. There was no way out, and no way for anyone on the other side of that mahogany barrier to intervene.
I kept my head down, my black-and-white maid uniform feeling suddenly far too thin against the chill in the room. I had only pulled the chair back because the edge of the dark velvet cushion had caught the hem of my apron as I moved to clear the side service cart. When my fingers brushed against the cold plastic casing and the faint, rhythmic hum of the blinking green light, instinct had taken over before my mind could register the danger. Now, I was trapped inside the perimeter of a high-stakes security breach with a man whose retaliation was legendary in the estate.
Luca slowly turned the device over in his palm, his thumb brushing over the small display screen. "Nobody leaves this room," he said, not looking up at Vanessa or the guards. "And nobody uses a phone. We find out who was listening, or everyone here answers for it."
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Vanessa let out a sharp, breathless laugh that lacked any humor. "You can't seriously think I had anything to do with that piece of junk. It's security equipment, Luca. You know how many contractors are in and out of this place."
"Not this kind," Luca replied coldly, setting the transmitter back down on the table with a sharp click. The red light pulsed once, twice, casting a brief crimson glow across his knuckles.
