Chapter 4 - THE MASK COMES OFF
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Luca walked down the corridor toward the east parlor, his footsteps silent and predatory.
I followed at a respectful distance, carrying a fresh tray of water, desperate to ensure Teresa remained protected from whatever madness was brewing.
Inside the parlor, Vanessa paced across the Persian rug like a caged panther.
She had already kicked off her designer heels, her silk gown rustling aggressively against the furniture.
When Luca pushed the door open, she spun around with contempt dripping from every feature of her face.
“Have you finished playing savior to that kitchen rat?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.
Luca did not answer immediately; he simply stood in the doorway, blocking her only path of escape.
“My father’s heart did not fail on its own, did it, Vanessa?” he asked, his voice chillingly calm.
Vanessa’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second before hardening into pure spite.
“Your father was an old fool clinging to outdated codes of honor.”
“He thought he could run a modern empire while paying millions to obsolete servants who should have been discarded decades ago.”
“Those servants bled for this family before you were born,” Luca answered, stepping into the room.
Vanessa let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed unpleasantly off the wood paneling.
“Bled?”
“They were paid wages, Luca!”
“They were hired help, nothing more!”
“My father and I dragged your backward family into the twenty-first century!”
“Do you really think our family syndicate was going to let six million dollars sit in bank accounts for senile maids and crippled drivers?”
I gasped from the doorway, unable to suppress my horror at the sheer callousness of her confession.
Vanessa turned her venomous glare toward me.
“Shut your mouth, maid, before I have your tongue cut out!”
Luca moved with terrifying speed, closing the distance between them and gripping Vanessa’s wrist with inescapable force.
“You will not speak to anyone in this house ever again,” Luca commanded, his voice vibrating with absolute authority.
Vanessa winced against the pressure on her wrist, but her arrogance did not shatter entirely.
“You can’t touch me, Luca!”
“My father knows I am here tonight!”
“If I don’t check in with him by midnight, forty armed men will roll up this driveway and turn your precious mansion into kindling!”
Luca stared down at her left hand, where a five-carat diamond engagement ring glittered under the chandelier.
Without a word, he pulled the ring from her finger with deliberate precision.
“Your father’s empire was built on stolen bread, Vanessa.”
“And tonight, the foundation collapses.”
He dropped the heavy diamond onto the hardwood floor and crushed it beneath the heel of his Italian leather shoe.
The stone cracked with a sharp snap, splintering into worthless fragments.
Vanessa gasped, staggering backward as if she had been physically struck across the face.
“You’re insane!” she screamed, clutching her hand against her chest.
“Matteo,” Luca called out toward the hallway without looking back.
Matteo appeared instantly in the doorway, his face rigid and alert.
“Confiscate her jewelry, her designer garments, and every scrap of identification she possesses.”
“Lock her in the basement storage cellar where Teresa used to store potatoes before we built the cold room.”
“Let her see how the help lives when they have nothing left.”
Vanessa fought and shrieked as Matteo took her by the arms, dragging her down the back service stairs.
Luca turned to me, his dark eyes hollowed by betrayal but blazing with resolve.
“Claire, call Marco.”
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“Tell him to assemble every ledger, every transaction, and every loyal soldier we have in the city.”
“Tonight, we settle the books.”
