Chapter 4 - Emma’s StoryThe blue sitting room had once been used for afternoon tea.
Now it looked like a fortress pretending to be a nursery.
Two armed men stood outside. Caleb checked the hallway twice before opening the door. Inside, Marisol sat on the edge of a velvet sofa with Emma tucked against her. The child had stopped crying, but her eyes were red. Rosie sat in her lap, crooked and silent.
Allessandro remained near the door.
He did not want to frighten her more than the morning already had.
“Emma,” he said gently, “I need to ask you some questions.”
Marisol stiffened.
Allessandro noticed. “Your mother stays.”
Emma nodded.
He crossed the room slowly and sat in a chair across from them, leaving space between himself and the child.
“Can you tell me everything you saw last night?”
Emma looked at her mother.
Marisol brushed hair from her forehead. “Tell the truth, baby.”
Emma took a breath.
“I woke up because Mama was coughing.”
Marisol flushed. “It’s nothing.”
Allessandro glanced at her. “How long?”
“It’s just from the laundry soap.”
“How long?”
Marisol lowered her eyes. “Three weeks.”
He filed that away.
Emma continued. “Mama didn’t want water, but I thought if I brought some she would drink it. I went down the back stairs because Mrs. Vale says children shouldn’t use the main stairs.”
“All right.”
“The kitchen light was on. Not the big light. The little one over the stove. Miss Isabella was there.”
“Alone?”
Emma shook her head.
Allessandro went still.
“No?”
“There was a man.”
Caleb shifted by the door.
Allessandro kept his voice calm. “Did you see his face?”
“Not at first. He was standing near the pantry. He wore a hat.”
“What kind?”
“A driver hat. Like Mr. Leo wears.”
One of the chauffeurs.
Caleb’s eyes hardened.
Emma hugged Rosie tighter. “Miss Isabella said, ‘This is too much.’ The man said, ‘He has to die before the wedding, or the papers won’t matter.’”
Marisol covered her mouth.
Allessandro did not move.
“What papers?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they say my name?”
Emma nodded. “Miss Isabella said, ‘Allessandro trusts the morning routine. He always eats the same thing.’ Then the man laughed.”
The sound of the old clock ticked through the room.
Allessandro had never hated a laugh he had not heard.
“What happened next?”
“She took out the bottle. It was small. White. No words, just a blue line on it. She crushed something in a bowl. The man told her to use all of it. She said, ‘He’ll know.’ The man said, ‘Not if the little maid keeps sleeping.’”
Marisol pulled Emma closer.
Emma’s voice became smaller.
“I dropped the cup.”
Marisol whispered, “Oh, baby.”
“They both looked at me. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. Miss Isabella came over and smiled. She said I was up too late. The man went into the pantry and closed the door.”
“Did you hear his voice again?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Emma frowned, trying to remember.
“He said, ‘No loose ends.’”
Caleb muttered something under his breath.
Allessandro’s hands rested quietly on his knees. Only Caleb knew him well enough to see the violence in that stillness.
“Then Miss Isabella gave me money,” Emma said. “She put it in my apron pocket. She said if I told anyone, Mama would be fired. Then she said maybe Mama’s cough would get worse.”
Marisol’s face went pale.
Allessandro looked at her. “She threatened your mother?”
Emma nodded.
“I didn’t want Mama to die.”
Marisol began to cry silently.
Allessandro leaned forward slightly. “Emma, listen to me. Your mother is not going to die because of Isabella Vale.”
Emma searched his face.
Children knew lies better than adults thought they did.
She must have believed him, because she nodded.
“Did the man leave before Isabella?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Miss Isabella walked me back to the servants’ stairs. She watched me go up. I hid halfway. I heard the kitchen door close, then another door. Then I went to Mama.”
“And this morning?”
“I saw the butter on your bread.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“You were going to eat it.”
Allessandro could not answer immediately.
Because she was right.
He had been going to eat it.
The most feared man in Federal Hill had been saved by a child everyone else treated like furniture.
“Emma,” he said, “you were very brave.”
She shook her head. “I was scared.”
“Brave people usually are.”
Rosie slipped from her lap to the rug.
Allessandro bent and picked up the doll.
It was poorly sewn, one button eye darker than the other, its little cloth dress patched at the hem. He held it carefully, as if it were something expensive.
When he handed it back, Emma stared at him.
“My mama made her,” she said.
“I can tell.”
“How?”
“She looks loved.”
Marisol lowered her head.
For a moment, the room held something other than fear.
Then Caleb’s phone buzzed again.
He looked at the screen.
“Allessandro.”
One word.
But Allessandro heard the warning.
He stood.
“What?”
Caleb looked at Marisol, then at Emma, as if deciding whether to speak in front of them.
Allessandro’s voice sharpened.
“What?”
Caleb said, “Leo is gone.”
Emma frowned. “Mr. Leo?”
Caleb nodded once.
“The chauffeur on night duty. His room is empty. His car is missing.”
Allessandro turned toward Emma.
“The man with the driver hat,” he said.
Emma whispered, “It was him?”
Allessandro did not answer.
Because he was already thinking of the service road, the tire tracks, the disabled cameras, the pin from a dead man’s organization.
Leo had not run because he was guilty.
He had run because someone had told him to.
Or because someone was hunting him too.
At that exact moment, downstairs, a crash split the quiet of the estate.
Glass.
A scream.
Then three gunshots.
Caleb drew his weapon.
Marisol pulled Emma to the floor.
May you like
Allessandro stepped toward the door.
The war had reached the house.
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