Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Hall
Over the next three weeks, the forbidden routine became our anchor.
Every morning, I brought Emma with me. While I scrubbed floors, washed high-paned windows, and ironed heavy linens, Emma slipped down the hall to the west wing. Alessandro never complained. In fact, the staff began to notice subtle shifts in the household dynamic.
Mrs. Gable, who usually moved through the halls like a ghost of judgment, started smiling when she saw Emma carrying a crayon drawing toward the west wing.
"He hasn't looked at a ledger in six months," Mrs. Gable murmured to me one afternoon in the staff kitchen while we were folding laundry. "Since the accident, he sat in that office staring at the wall or drinking himself into a stupor. Now? He’s asking for reports. He’s reviewing shipping manifests. Your girl woke a sleeping dragon, Nora."
"I didn't mean for her to bother him," I said defensively, though I knew it was a lie. Emma loved 'the sad man,' as she called him.
"Bother him?" Mrs. Gable snorted softly, a rare display of warmth. "Child, he hasn't been this alive since the day his car went off that bridge. But you watch your back. Victor Vance doesn't like changes he didn't authorize."
The warning echoed my own growing fears.
Victor was visiting the estate more frequently now. I often saw him standing outside Alessandro’s office door, his ear pressed slightly against the wood, or speaking in hushed, urgent tones with men in dark suits who arrived in unmarked sedans after midnight.
One evening, after everyone else had gone to the staff quarters, I stayed late to finish cleaning the main library. The heavy oak door to the hallway was cracked open, and I heard Victor’s voice rising in anger from the adjoining study.
"You're moving too fast, Alex!" Victor snapped. "The board of directors is not ready for you to resume active control. Your medical leave is indefinite!"
"My mind is clear, Victor," Alessandro’s voice replied, cold and sharp. "And I have been looking over the Q3 asset transfers. Several properties in the downtown district were sold off at a fraction of their market value while I was in recovery. Care to explain why?"
Silence stretched across the room—a heavy, suffocating silence.
"Market fluctuations," Victor said smoothly, though a slight tremor betrayed his composure. "You were out of commission. Liquidity was necessary to keep the shipping lines afloat."
"Liquidity," Alessandro repeated, the word dripping with lethal sarcasm. "Or embezzlement?"
My breath hitched. I clamped a hand over my mouth, freezing in the shadows behind a towering bookshelf.
"Careful, Alessandro," Victor hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Remember who is holding the pen while you sit in that chair. Remember who keeps the prosecutors off your back."
"Get out," Alessandro said quietly.
May you like
A moment later, heavy footsteps echoed across the parquet floor, and Victor stormed out of the study, slamming the front doors of the estate behind him.
I waited ten minutes before creeping out of the library, my hands trembling. The Moretti empire wasn't just a wealthy family business; it was a battlefield, and Alessandro was surrounded by wolves who thought he was too crippled to fight back.
