Chapter 3
The recording ended with the sound of my phone hitting the floor.
Nobody spoke.
Not even Vanessa.
Rain whispered against the windows. Somewhere in the kitchen, the ice machine dropped a fresh tray with a sharp mechanical crack that made me flinch.
Luca stood beside the island with his phone in one hand and his other hand braced against the marble.
His own brother.
That phrase seemed to hang in the room like smoke.
Daniel Mercer recovered first.
“How many brothers do you have?” Sergeant Ruiz asked.
“One,” Luca said.
His voice had changed.
It was flatter now.
“Matteo Moretti.”
I knew the name.
Everyone who worked in the residence knew it.
Matteo was younger than Luca by four years. Chief operating officer of Moretti Hospitality. Charming in photographs. Always smiling at charity events. The kind of man magazines described as approachable because he wore sneakers with expensive suits.
I had served him coffee twice.
He remembered my name both times.
That suddenly felt different.
Ruiz looked at the technician’s call still glowing on Luca’s screen.
“Can you send the file directly to police evidence?”
Daniel answered before Luca could.
“With Claire’s consent.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Vanessa laughed once.
It was brittle.
“This proves nothing.”
Luca finally looked at her.
“The man said my brother approved an incapacity vote.”
“Anyone could say that.”
“And you said nothing when he did.”
“I didn’t hear him.”
“You were standing three feet from him.”
“Maybe the recording was altered.”
Daniel’s eyebrows rose.
“In the last four hours?”
Vanessa’s face reddened.
“Stop acting like this is court.”
“No,” Ruiz said, “but I strongly recommend you start acting like your words matter.”
Vanessa turned toward her.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at this moment.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
Ruiz did not stop her.
That surprised me.
Luca didn’t either.
Vanessa gathered the skirt of her gown, crossed the foyer, and pressed the elevator button with such force I could hear the click from the kitchen.
Before the doors opened, she looked back at Luca.
“You’re choosing a maid’s story over your fiancée.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“I’m choosing evidence over performance.”
Her face went white.
The elevator opened.
She stepped inside.
Then looked directly at me.
“You should have minded your own business.”
The doors closed.
For several seconds, Luca stared at the brushed steel after she disappeared.
Then he said, “Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Have someone follow her.”
Ruiz raised a hand.
“Careful.”
“To protect her,” Luca said.
Ruiz gave him a look that said she did not believe that was the whole reason.
“Fine. Protection. No intimidation. No entering private property. No touching her phone, car, driver, father, mail, or anything else.”
“Understood.”
Marco left.
I was suddenly exhausted.
Not tired.
Empty.
The adrenaline that had carried me through the last hour vanished all at once, leaving me shaking.
Luca noticed.
“Sit down.”
“I’m okay.”
He gave me a look.
I sat.
Mrs. Kline brought a clean towel and a glass of water. My hands trembled so hard the glass tapped against my teeth.
Sergeant Ruiz crouched across from me.
“Claire, I need to ask you something difficult.”
“Okay.”
“Has Ms. Bellini ever hurt you before today?”
I looked at Luca.
That was a mistake.
His expression sharpened.
Ruiz followed my gaze.
“Look at me, not him.”
I did.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s grabbed my arm before.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Left marks?”
“Once.”
Luca swore quietly.
Ruiz asked, “Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I almost laughed.
Because rent existed.
Because my younger sister was in community college and I sent her two hundred dollars every month.
Because my health insurance came through the household staffing agency.
Because rich people said things like ‘we’ll look into it’ and then the person with less money disappeared from the schedule.
Instead I said, “I needed the job.”
Ruiz nodded like she had heard that answer many times.
Luca looked sick.
I hated that.
I didn’t want pity from him.
“Don’t,” I said.
He frowned.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you just discovered poor people need paychecks.”
Mrs. Kline made a tiny choking sound that might have been a laugh.
Daniel looked down to hide his smile.
Luca stared at me.
Then, unexpectedly, he nodded.
“Fair.”
That surprised me more than anger would have.
Dr. Patel arrived twenty minutes later.
He was a concierge physician who apparently handled the Moretti family, but he spoke to me like a normal person. He cleaned the cuts at my waist, checked my knees, and told me I needed X-rays because he was concerned about a possible kneecap injury.
“I can go tomorrow,” I said.
“No,” Luca said.
Dr. Patel glanced at him.
I did too.
Luca seemed to realize he had spoken as if he were in charge of my body.
He corrected himself.
“You should go tonight.”
“That sounded almost human,” I said.
His mouth twitched.
Daniel looked startled.
Apparently people did not tease Luca Moretti.
I was too tired to care.
Sergeant Ruiz finished taking statements. The bracelet, phone, towel, and a copy of the contract went with police. Before leaving, she gave me her card.
“If anyone contacts you about what happened tonight, save everything.”
“Even if it’s just a message?”
“Especially messages.”
She turned to Luca.
“And your brother?”
“I’ll call him.”
“No threats.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
A strange silence passed between them.
Then Luca said, “Yes.”
When the police left, the penthouse felt enormous.
Most of the staff had gone home.
The dining room still smelled like lemon butter and expensive wine.
My uniform was ruined.
My stockings were torn.
I had no phone.
And somewhere in New York, Vanessa was probably calling her father and telling him everything had fallen apart.
Luca stood near the windows.
Daniel joined him.
“We need to freeze internal authority first thing in the morning.”
“No,” Luca said.
Daniel blinked.
“No?”
“If Matteo is involved, morning is too late.”
He turned.
“Call the bank. Call Elaine on the board. Suspend all extraordinary transfers. No acquisitions. No debt restructuring. No executive delegations.”
Daniel nodded.
“Done.”
“And pull every board draft from the last ninety days.”
“Luca, if Matteo sees that activity, he’ll know you heard the recording.”
“He already knows Vanessa called the police. He’ll assume something went wrong.”
Daniel hesitated.
“What about the wedding?”
Luca stared at him.
Daniel sighed.
“Right. Stupid question.”
I looked away.
The wedding was supposed to be in eleven days.
Eight hundred guests.
Three days of events.
One of the staff coordinators had told us the flowers alone cost more than my mother’s house.
Now it might all disappear because of four minutes of audio.
Luca came toward me.
“Mrs. Kline will arrange a car to the hospital.”
“I can take a cab.”
“No.”
“There you go again.”
He exhaled.
“Would you allow me to arrange a car to the hospital?”
“That’s better.”
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
His voice lowered.
“You can’t go home tonight.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Vanessa knows where you live.”
“She’s not going to come to Queens and murder me.”
Daniel looked at the contract.
Nobody laughed.
My attempt at humor died.
Luca said, “She may not. Her father may not. Matteo may not.”
“Very comforting.”
“But someone destroyed your phone and planted an eighty-thousand-dollar bracelet in your purse within hours of you overhearing them.”
I looked down.
He was right.
I hated that too.
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“There’s a guest apartment on the twenty-ninth floor.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I work for you.”
“You work for the household staffing company.”
“Which you own.”
His mouth flattened.
“Technically.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m offering you a locked apartment in a building with security.”
“I don’t want anyone thinking—”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“I do.”
That stopped him.
He studied me.
Then said, “Fair again.”
Daniel interrupted.
“There’s a corporate apartment at the Langford Hotel. Different building. Separate staff. We can book it under legal witness protection expenses.”
I stared at him.
“Is that a real category?”
“It is now.”
I almost smiled.
Then the private elevator chimed.
All three men turned.
Marco stepped out.
His expression was wrong.
Luca saw it immediately.
“What happened?”
“I followed Vanessa’s car downtown.”
“To her father’s townhouse?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“The Moretti corporate offices.”
Daniel swore.
“At this hour?”
Marco nodded.
“She used the executive garage entrance.”
Luca went still.
“Who let her in?”
Marco looked directly at him.
“Matteo.”
A beat.
Then another.
“And they weren’t alone,” Marco said.
Luca’s face hardened.
“Who else?”
Marco answered.
“Dr. Samuel Hale.”
The name from the recording.
The doctor who supposedly knew what to write.
Daniel’s eyes widened.
Luca grabbed his coat.
I stood too fast.
Pain tore through my knee.
He caught me before I hit the floor.
“Absolutely not.”
“I wasn’t going with you.”
“Good.”
“I was going to the hospital.”
He looked at me.
Then, despite everything, he smiled once.
Very briefly.
“Good.”
But as Marco opened the elevator, Daniel’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression drained of color.
“What do you mean, already filed?”
Luca stopped.
Daniel listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
“What?” Luca demanded.
Daniel stared at him.
“The board received an emergency petition eighteen minutes ago.”
“What petition?”
Daniel’s voice was almost a whisper.
“To place you on temporary medical leave for suspected cognitive impairment.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Luca’s eyes went black.
“Signed by whom?”
May you like
Daniel swallowed.
“Matteo Moretti.”
