THE MAFIA BOSS FOUND THE SIX-LEVEL CHAMPAGNE TOWER DESTROYED, BUT HE PICKED UP HIS MAID'S CRUTCH INSTEAD OF ASKING ABOUT THE DAMAGE.

"Was she in the east guest room?" Luca repeated.

His question traveled farther through the ballroom than Vanessa's shriek had. The violinist near the windows lowered her bow. A waiter held his breath with a silver pitcher suspended above a glass. I stood with my wooden crutch tucked under my arm, wishing I could disappear into the broken crystal glittering at our feet.

Vanessa's expression changed so quickly that I almost doubted what I had seen. First surprise. Then calculation. Finally that familiar, patient smile she wore whenever she intended to make someone else sound foolish.

"Darling, you're upsetting Olivia," she said. "She's had a nasty fall. Let the poor girl rest."

"I'm asking Olivia," Luca replied.

He was thirty-nine, and unlike the guests who always seemed to be performing some version of wealth, Luca never needed to perform authority. He wore it without trying. Tonight, however, there was something beneath his calm expression I had never noticed before. Fear.

"I was upstairs," I managed. "I wasn't in the pantry. I saw someone in that room."

Vanessa's fingers tightened around her champagne flute.

Luca glanced toward Daniel Costa, his security chief. "Have somebody bring a chair. Call a medical professional. And leave the east wing exactly as it is. Nobody touches anything until we know what happened."

Daniel signaled to two guards. One brought me a chair. Another went to summon Dr. Priya Shah, a physician who lived only a few blocks away and had treated staff members before. Luca waited until I was sitting. He put the crutch within easy reach of my good leg.

"Tell me at your own pace," he said.

Nobody had spoken to me that way since my mother died. My throat closed for a moment.

"I was changing the linens on the second floor," I said. "Vanessa told the staff that the east room was being renovated. But I heard someone calling for water. I thought a guest had gotten locked inside."

"There was no guest registered there," Daniel said.

"There was a woman." I stared down at my palms. "She was sitting beside the bed. There were papers all over the carpet. She asked me whether Mr. Moretti was home. She was scared."

"What woman?" Luca asked.

"She said her name was Elena Rossi."

Daniel made a small sound. Luca's face lost its color.

"Elena worked for my company," he said. "Finance. She resigned three weeks ago."

"She told me she didn't resign," I whispered.

Vanessa laughed once. It sounded wrong in the silent room. "This is absurd. Elena was upset about a professional disagreement. Olivia must have misunderstood her."

"Then why was she in my guest room?" Luca asked.

For the first time, Vanessa had no answer ready.

I remembered the east room with a clarity that made my damaged leg ache. The curtains were drawn even though the afternoon sun had filled the other windows. A lamp burned beside the bed. Elena wore a gray cardigan over a wrinkled blouse. There was a red mark around one wrist. Beside her sat a blue notebook and a paper cup, empty except for a ring of water.

She had looked at my uniform and whispered, "Please tell Luca the payments were changed. They used his name."

I had reached for my phone. Vanessa stepped out of the adjoining bathroom with a man wearing an event-staff badge. She asked whether I had read the papers. I told her I had not. The man closed the door behind him.

"Olivia," Luca said, bringing me back to the ballroom. "What happened to your leg?"

"Vanessa told me to leave Elena alone. I said the woman needed help. Then the man moved a glass-topped cabinet in front of the door. I tried to get around it. Vanessa pushed the cabinet toward me. The glass broke and I went down on one knee. There were pieces everywhere."

I touched the dressings on my shin. The memory was as sharp as the cuts themselves.

"They didn't call a doctor?" Luca asked.

"Vanessa gave me bandages from a closet. She said I could either keep working or be fired for trespassing. I found an old crutch in the storage room. I thought I could tell you when you were alone."

"And then she sent you to work beside the champagne tower," Daniel said quietly.

Vanessa lifted her chin. "I never ordered anyone to injure themselves. Olivia is exaggerating because she's embarrassed about the damage."

"She may have broken some glasses," Luca said. "That doesn't explain Elena Rossi."

Dr. Shah arrived as Vanessa opened her mouth again. The doctor took one look at my leg and asked everyone to step back. She checked the circulation in my foot and the movement of my ankle before carefully replacing the soaked dressings.

"These wounds need cleaning and a proper examination," she told me. "And I don't want you putting weight on that leg until we know whether anything is embedded. We're going to the emergency department."

I nodded, suddenly shaking now that somebody else was making decisions about my immediate safety.

"Do what she says," Luca told me. "Your job isn't part of this conversation."

"My rent is due Friday," I blurted. "I have seventy-four dollars. If I can't work—"

"You will be paid while you're being treated," he answered. "You won't lose housing because you asked for help."

Vanessa made a furious little noise. "Can we please remember this is our engagement party?"

Luca looked toward the musicians, the crystal, the roses, and the guests watching with an avidity that embarrassed me more than my fall. "The party is over," he said. "Everyone is free to leave after security records names and any relevant observations. No one is being detained. Daniel, ask the staff to preserve the camera recordings."

Several guests rose. One older woman approached me and slipped a packet of clean tissues into my hand. "I saw her move your crutch," she whispered. "Before you fell. Tell them that, too."

I looked up in surprise. The woman walked away before I could thank her.

While we waited for news from upstairs, Luca asked the remaining guests whether anyone had noticed Elena entering or leaving the property. Most avoided his eyes. A silver-haired uncle cleared his throat and said that business matters did not belong at an engagement dinner. Luca turned toward him without raising his voice.

"A woman may be missing," he said. "That belongs wherever we happen to be standing."

The uncle sat down.

Mrs. Alvarez, the senior housekeeper, came forward from the service entrance. She had managed the mansion's staff for fifteen years, and I had never seen her frightened until that evening. She carried the attendance ledger against her chest like a shield.

"Miss Rossi signed into the east wing at eleven forty-five," she said. "I asked Miss Bellini whether she wanted lunch sent up. She said the room was empty and I must have imagined seeing anyone."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Luca asked.

"Because I was told that anyone who questioned the arrangement would lose their position. I have two grandsons living with me." Her eyes filled. "I thought I was protecting them."

Luca took the ledger but did not blame her. He requested that she give her account directly to the officers when they arrived. I saw her shoulders relax just enough that she could breathe again.

For all its marble and chandeliers, the house had been filled with people afraid of a single woman's displeasure. I wondered how many ordinary warnings we had swallowed because speaking them would have cost too much.

Daniel's phone rang. He listened, then crossed the floor toward Luca.

"We opened the east room with the housekeeper's master key," he said. "No Elena. There's an empty chair, water glasses, and one broken cabinet. Someone has cleared out the papers."

"Find out who left the wing," Luca said. "And call the police."

Vanessa stepped toward him. "You're letting a maid turn you against me. Think about how this looks."

"I'm thinking about a missing woman," Luca replied.

I wanted to tell him more. In the guest room Elena had clutched my wrist and pressed a scrap of paper into my hand. I had lost it in the struggle—or thought I had. When I shifted in the chair, something stiff scratched against the lining of my uniform sleeve.

I reached inside with two fingers and drew out a folded square of blue paper.

It contained only four words and a number.

EAST RIVER. BLUE BOOK. 17.

Luca took a photograph of the note without removing it from my hand. Then he asked me to place it in an envelope for the police.

"Elena used to audit East River," he said. "It's the fund for the warehouse-fire families. Why would she write that?"

"She told me the payments were changed," I repeated. "She was crying when she said it."

For the first time that evening, Luca looked less like the man who owned the ballroom and more like a man realizing how little he knew about his own house.

Daniel returned, holding a phone in a clear evidence bag. "We found this between the mattress and the wall. It's Elena's. The last call was made at 4:12. It went unanswered."

"To whom?" Luca asked.

Daniel turned the screen toward him.

The contact read LUCA MORETTI.

Luca checked his own phone. There was no missed call. Daniel examined the entry again and frowned. Someone had apparently blocked calls from Elena's number on Luca's device days earlier.

"Who has had access to my phone?" Luca asked.

Vanessa had gone very still.

Dr. Shah touched my shoulder. "It's time to leave."

As I stood with help, an alert sounded from the phone in Daniel's bag. A new message arrived from a number with no name.

I saw the words before he turned the screen away.

SHE WASN'T THE ONLY ONE IN THAT ROOM.