Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
For the next forty-eight hours, the Valente mansion operated under a veil of terrifying deception.
Elena returned to her duties as if nothing had happened. She scrubbed floors, carried trays, and polished silver with her head down, acting the part of the meek, terrified maid to absolute perfection.
Victoria grew bolder by the hour. Believing she had thoroughly intimidated Elena, she treated her with escalating cruelty—knocking trays from her hands, demanding fresh tea at three in the morning, and making loud, passive-aggressive comments about "disposable servants" whenever Adrienne was in the room.
Adrienne played his part flawlessly. He acted distant, stressed, and preoccupied with business, signing administrative documents in front of Victoria and complaining loudly about shipping delays in Brooklyn.
On Saturday evening, the mansion was quiet. Adrienne had ostentatiously departed for a late-night sit-down with his capos in Long Island, leaving the estate guarded primarily by Victoria’s security team and a skeleton crew of Valente guards.
At ten o'clock, Elena was summoned to the grand conservatory on the second floor.
The conservatory was a massive glass dome filled with exotic tropical orchids, marble statues, and deep shadows. It was cold tonight, the autumn wind howling outside the thick glass panes.
Elena walked into the dimly lit room, holding a silver tea service tray.
Sitting on a velvet lounge chair near the central marble fountain was Victoria Laurent, dressed in a crimson silk robe, sipping a glass of red wine.
Standing in the shadows behind her chair were Frank Rossi and two of his Chicago mercenaries, their heavy leather coats bulged by the concealed handguns beneath them.
"You summoned me, Miss Laurent?" Elena asked, stopping ten feet away, keeping her eyes cast down toward the silver tray.
Victoria set her wine glass down on the stone table with a slow, deliberate movement.
"Set the tray down on the table, Elena," Victoria ordered smoothly.
Elena stepped forward, laying the silver tray onto the stone table. As she straightened up, Frank Rossi stepped behind her, blocking the entrance to the conservatory with his massive frame.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut.
Elena looked around the room, letting a flicker of calculated terror cross her face—playing the exact role Victoria expected her to play.
"Is something wrong, ma'am?" Elena asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Victoria stood up from her velvet chair, stepping toward Elena with the slow, graceful posture of a cat approaching a trapped mouse.
"Everything is perfect, Elena," Victoria said, a vicious, cruel smile spreading across her beautiful face. "Adrienne is three hours away in Long Island. The staff has been dismissed to their quarters for the night. And my men have a vehicle waiting in the subterranean garage."
Elena backed away slightly, her heels hitting the edge of the marble fountain. "I don't understand."
Victoria let out a soft, mocking laugh.
"Oh, I think you do," Victoria said, stepping closer. "You're a smart girl, Elena. You thought you were subtle, looking at my fiancé with those big, pathetic brown eyes. You thought a maid could play in a kingdom of wolves."
Victoria reached out, taking a heavy silver butter knife from the tea tray, running her manicured thumb along its blunt edge.
"Tonight, you take a little trip to New Jersey," Victoria whispered, her eyes shining with psychotic malice. "And tomorrow morning, I tell Adrienne that his little favorite maid stole five hundred thousand dollars in diamond jewelry from my dressing room and ran away in the middle of the night."
Frank Rossi chuckled from the doorway, drawing a heavy, silenced pistol from inside his coat.
Elena looked at the armed men, then back at Victoria. She stopped trembling. Her posture straightened. Her broad shoulders squared, and her dark brown eyes lost every single trace of fear, flattening into a cold, terrifying calm that startled Victoria.
"You really think you've won, don't you, Victoria?" Elena asked, her voice steady, clear, and ringing softly through the glass dome.
Victoria blinked, her cruel smile faltering for a fraction of a second at the sudden, complete change in the maid's demeanor. "What did you say to me?"
"I asked if you think you've won," Elena repeated smoothly. "You brought four mercenaries into a house that doesn't belong to you. You betrayed the man who rules this city. And you think you're the smartest person in the room."
Victoria’s face twisted in sudden, blinding rage. She raised her hand, preparing to slap Elena across the face.
"Shut your mouth!" Victoria shrieked. "Frank! Grab her!"
Frank Rossi stepped forward, his heavy hand reaching out for Elena’s shoulder.
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Before his fingers could touch her fabric, a voice echoed from the high balcony above the conservatory—a low, gravelly baritone that froze every single person in the room in their tracks.
"Touch her," the voice growled from the darkness above, "and I will skin you alive in front of your boss."
