Chapter 4 - THE WEST WING SANCTUARY
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The west wing of the Moretti estate was an impenetrable fortress within a palace.
Reinforced mahogany doors with biometric locks sealed the hallway from the rest of the mansion.
Luca carried Sophie into the master bedroom suite as if she weighed no more than a feather.
He laid her gently down on the massive king-sized bed, propping her injured leg on two silk pillows.
I hurried in behind them, carrying a basin of warm water, clean towels, and Sophie’s favorite stuffed rabbit.
Sophie’s little face was pale, and dark circles of exhaustion shadowed her eyes.
“It hurts, Claire,” she whispered, reaching out to grab the hem of my apron.
“I know, sweetheart,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently taking her small hand.
“The doctor is coming right now.”
“You’re safe here with your dad.”
Luca stood at the foot of the bed, his black jacket discarded, his dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the intricate black ink of the Moretti family crest.
He watched my hands as I carefully dipped a washcloth into the warm water and cleaned the blood from Sophie’s heel.
He didn't speak, but the tension radiating from his frame was like high-voltage wire.
A knock sounded at the reinforced door, and Marco ushered Dr. Bennett into the room.
The elderly physician was out of breath, carrying a heavy medical bag and a compact digital scanner.
“Luca, what happened?” Dr. Bennett asked, rushing to the bedside.
“Examine her ankle, Arthur,” Luca said, his voice clipped and tight.
“Tell me if she can ever dance again.”
Dr. Bennett set his equipment on the bedside table and began his examination with practiced care.
He sprayed a local numbing agent over the puncture marks, making Sophie sigh with relief.
He positioned the handheld X-ray scanner over her swollen joint, watching the tablet screen update in real time.
The room was so quiet that the faint hum of the machine sounded like a siren.
After five minutes, Dr. Bennett lowered the tablet and removed his reading glasses.
“The good news, Luca, is that the needle didn't hit the main tendon.”
“There is no permanent nerve damage.”
Luca exhaled a long, ragged breath through his nose.
“And the bad news?”
Dr. Bennett’s face turned grim.
“The lateral ligament is severely torn.”
“This isn't a fresh injury from ten minutes ago.”
“This tear happened at least three days ago.”
Luca’s eyes snapped to his daughter.
“Three days?”
“Yes,” Dr. Bennett confirmed, pointing to the inflammation on the screen.
“Someone bound this ankle tightly with athletic tape to suppress the swelling, then forced her to walk on it.”
“Whoever did this knew she was injured and deliberately pushed the joint past its breaking point.”
Sophie began to cry again, hiding her face beneath the duvet.
Luca stepped to the edge of the bed and sat down beside his daughter.
He took her trembling little hands into his large palms.
“Sophie, baby,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking with a pain he couldn't conceal.
“Who taped your ankle three days ago?”
Sophie sniffled, looking up through tear-soaked lashes.
“Miss Vanessa said... she said if I didn't dance the Swan Lake solo for the senator, she would send me away.”
Luca went entirely rigid.
“Send you where, Sophie?”
“To the boarding school in Switzerland,” Sophie sobbed.
“She told me that you were tired of taking care of a broken little girl whose mother died.”
“She said you wanted a fresh start with a real wife and new babies.”
“She said if I ruined the dinner, she would make sure you never let me come home again.”
Luca’s chest stopped moving.
His face went so completely pale that his dark eyes looked like black holes in his skull.
I stood beside the bed, my fists clenched so hard my fingernails dug into my palms.
To terrorize an eleven-year-old child whose mother had died of cancer was beyond cruel; it was demonic.
Luca leaned down and kissed Sophie’s forehead, lingering there for ten long seconds.
“Nobody is ever sending you away, Sophie,” Luca whispered against her skin.
“You are my daughter.”
“You are the only thing in this world that matters to me.”
He looked up at me, his eyes burning with an ancient, unforgiving fire.
“Claire.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Stay in this room with Arthur.”
“Lock this door from the inside.”
“Do not open it for anyone except Marco.”
Luca stood up, his jaw set in stone, his hands relaxing into deadly, deliberate calm.
“Where are you going, sir?” I asked, terrified of the answer.
May you like
Luca didn't look back as he walked toward the door.
“To remind the Bellini family why my father named me after a wolf.”
