Chapter 3 - THE STAIN IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM
Sadi returned to the Castello estate before dawn.
Victor insisted she travel with him, but she sat in the opposite corner of the car, refusing to meet his eyes.
The image of Sam being carried through the stairwell would not leave her mind.
Neither would the way Victor had fired without hesitation.
He had saved her brother.
He had also proven exactly why every person in the city feared him.
When they reached the estate, Victor ordered the gates locked and the guards doubled.
The household staff waited in the kitchen, gathered in frightened silence. Cooks, gardeners, maids, drivers, and security officers stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the brass lights.
Victor entered.
No one spoke.
“Someone gave Mick O’Shea information about Samuel Hayes,” he said. “That person is inside this house.”
A murmur moved through the room.
Sadi stood beside the doorway, her hands hidden in the folds of her uniform.
Victor’s gaze swept over the staff.
“Until I find out who, nobody leaves.”
One of the older maids raised her chin. “You can’t hold us here.”
Victor looked at her. “I can.”
She lowered her eyes.
Sadi hated how quickly fear obeyed him.
Victor turned toward her. “Where were you working tonight?”
“Outside your office.”
“Before that?”
“The east corridor. Then the silver room.”
“Who saw you?”
“Everyone who passed.”
“Did you see anyone unusual?”
Sadi thought carefully.
The Castello estate had its own rhythm. Every employee learned it within weeks. The kitchen woke before sunrise. The security team changed shifts at six. Victor’s personal staff moved with quiet precision.
“I saw Mrs. Bell in the laundry room,” she said.
The housekeeper, Nora Bell, looked up sharply.
“When?” Victor asked.
“About midnight.”
“What was she doing?”
“Sorting linens.”
Nora’s expression hardened. “That’s my job.”
“Did you notice anything?” Victor asked Sadi.
“There was a stain on one of the sheets.”
“What kind?”
“Rust-colored. Fresh.”
Nora stepped forward. “That was from the boiler room. The pipe burst yesterday.”
“Why wasn’t it reported?” Victor asked.
“It was already handled.”
Victor’s eyes moved to her. “By whom?”
Nora said nothing.
Sadi remembered the sheet.
The stain had not looked like rust. It had been too dark, too wet around the edges. She had noticed a tiny black thread caught in the fabric, but Nora had ordered her to leave it alone.
Victor noticed the change in her face.
“What else?”
Sadi hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“There was a button.”
“What kind?”
“Black. Metal. With a silver line through the center.”
Victor turned toward his head of security. “Search the laundry room.”
Nora took a step backward.
Victor saw it.
“Keep her here.”
Two guards moved beside Nora.
Sadi followed Victor down the service corridor. The laundry room was located beneath the main staircase, where industrial washers rumbled day and night.
A sheet lay folded on the sorting table.
Victor pulled on gloves and opened it.
The stain was still visible.
He cut the fabric around it.
Beneath the sheet was a small black button.
Sadi pointed. “That’s it.”
Victor held it beneath the light.
His expression changed.
“What?” she asked.
“This isn’t from a uniform.”
“Then what is it from?”
He turned the button over.
A symbol had been carved into the back: a narrow crown with one broken point.
Sadi had seen it before.
She searched her memory.
Then she remembered the men who had come to the estate after midnight. Their coats were dark, but one of them had worn a black wool overcoat with silver-lined buttons.
“Dario Vale,” Victor said.
The name meant nothing to Sadi.
Victor’s security chief, Elias, entered the room. “We found this behind the dryer.”
He handed Victor a thin envelope.
Victor opened it.
Inside were photographs of the estate, the hospital, and Sadi walking to work.
The final photograph showed Sam leaving a clinic three weeks earlier.
Sadi’s stomach turned.
“Who is Dario Vale?” she asked.
Victor folded the photographs. “A man who wants my business.”
“Then why is he watching me?”
“Because you are close to something.”
“I’m a maid.”
“That has never made you harmless.”
Victor walked to the old washer in the corner.
Sadi frowned. “What are you doing?”
He removed the top panel.
Behind it was a narrow metal box.
Sadi stared. “That wasn’t there before.”
“It was.”
“Why hide it in the laundry room?”
“Because nobody searches where they believe only dirty things exist.”
Victor unlocked the box.
Inside was a ledger wrapped in oilcloth.
He opened it.
Rows of numbers filled the pages. Names appeared beside payments, dates, hospital rooms, police districts, and shipping companies.
Sadi recognized one name.
Mick O’Shea.
His name appeared beside a payment of sixty thousand dollars.
Her loan.
She pointed at the page. “That’s impossible.”
Victor looked at her.
“Where did he get the money?” she whispered.
“It came from a company called Northline Recovery.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your debt was purchased.”
“By whom?”
Victor turned the page.
At the bottom was another name.
Dario Vale.
Sadi felt cold spread through her chest.
Mick had not randomly chosen her.
Someone had paid him to lend her sixty thousand dollars.
Someone had waited eight months for the debt to become impossible.
Victor closed the ledger.
“Why me?”
He studied her face.
“Because your father worked for me.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Sadi stared at him. “My father died before I came here.”
“He did.”
“You knew him?”
Victor’s voice lowered. “I knew exactly what he stole.”
“What did he steal?”
May you like
Victor looked toward the dark doorway.
“Evidence.”
