Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary on the Third Floor
The third floor of the DeLuca mansion was a world entirely separate from the crystal and marble below. Here, the ceilings were low, the floors were covered in muted wool runners, and the air smelled of laundry detergent, lemon oil, and old timber. It was where the live-in staff slept, tucked away behind hidden doors that blended into the wood paneling of the main corridors.
Julian walked down the narrow hallway, his heavy footsteps muffled by the carpet. His heart was hammering against his ribs—not with fear of the federal agents currently breaching his outer gates, but with a terrifying, unyielding anticipation.
Outside Room 304, two armed security guards stood at attention.
“Key,” Julian demanded flatly.
The guard hastily unlocked the heavy wooden door and swung it open.
Julian stepped inside.
The room was small, neat, and humbly furnished. A single twin bed sat against the wall, covered in a simple yellow quilt. A small wooden desk held a stack of children’s storybooks and a cup filled with colored pencils.
Nora Bennett sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. She had removed her black serving apron, wearing only her simple gray uniform dress. In the corner of the bed, wrapped in a blanket with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin, slept Lily. The child’s breathing was slow, deep, and peaceful, completely oblivious to the chaos tearing the mansion apart below.
As Julian entered, Nora jumped to her feet. She was pale, her dark eyes wide with terror, her hands trembling as she instinctively stepped between Julian and the sleeping child.
“Mr. DeLuca,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please… we didn't do anything. I swear to you, I didn't touch those glasses. I only carried the tray because Miss Cassandra asked me to!”
Julian closed the door behind him, locking it from the inside. He didn't look at Nora right away.
His eyes drifted slowly, inexorably, to the bed.
He walked past Nora, ignoring her gasp of fear, and stood beside the sleeping child. In the soft light of the bedside lamp, he looked down at Lily’s small face.
The dark, curling lashes. The delicate curve of her nose. The tiny chin with a faint, barely perceptible dimple in the center.
It was as if someone had taken Claire Arden’s face and shrunk it down into a four-year-old child.
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. A sharp, burning pain bloomed in his chest, so intense he had to grip the wooden bedpost to steady himself.
Four years.
Four years of cold, unfeeling emptiness. Four years of believing he was alone in the world.
He knelt slowly by the bed, his large, calloused hand hovering inches over the little girl’s head. He didn't touch her; he was afraid that if he did, she would shatter like the crystal flute on the ballroom floor.
“Her name is Lily,” Julian murmured, his voice thick with emotions he hadn't felt in a decade.
Nora stood frozen behind him, her hands clasped tightly together. “Yes, sir.”
“How old is she, Nora?” Julian asked without looking back.
“She… she turned four in August, sir.”
Four in August.
Julian closed his eyes. Four years ago, in December, Claire had vanished. If Lily was born in August, she had been conceived in November—one month before Claire disappeared.
Julian turned his head slowly to look at Nora. His brown eyes were no longer cold; they were raw, wild, and filled with a desperate, terrifying light.
“Who was her mother, Nora?” Julian asked, his voice shaking. “Tell me the truth. If you lie to me right now, I will tear this city apart until I find it out anyway.”
Nora let out a ragged, choked sob. Tears spilled over her eyelashes, running down her cheeks. She looked at the sleeping child, then at the powerful mafia boss kneeling beside her bed.
“You know who her mother was,” Nora wept quietly. “You saw her dance.”
Julian stood up slowly, his tall frame filling the small room. “Claire.”
“Yes,” Nora sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “Claire. She was my best friend. My sister in every way that mattered.”
“Where is she?” Julian demanded, stepping toward Nora, his hands trembling. “Where is Claire? Why did she leave me? Why did she hide my daughter from me?!”
“She didn't leave you!” Nora cried out, her voice breaking into a desperate shriek that made little Lily stir in her sleep.
May you like
Nora instantly clamped her hand over her mouth, glancing nervously at the child. When Lily settled back into deep sleep, Nora looked up at Julian, her eyes burning with a mix of grief and ancient anger.
“She didn't leave you, Julian,” Nora whispered, stepping closer to him, her fear suddenly replaced by an overwhelming wave of truth. “She was murdered.”
