Chapter 3 – THE TRAITOR IN THE KITCHEN

I struggled wildly, trying to tear the heavy hand away from my face.

“Quiet!” a harsh whisper hissed in my ear.

The grip loosened just enough for me to see the man’s face in the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows.

It was Daniel. The head of Luca’s security.

I exhaled in relief. “Daniel! Marco Rossi’s men are in the dining room. You have to help Mr. Moretti!”

But Daniel didn’t let go of my arm. His eyes were cold, darting toward the hallway.

“I know exactly where Marco’s men are,” Daniel said, his voice entirely devoid of panic.

He looked down at Lily, who was clinging to my apron, trembling violently.

“Give me the girl, Emma,” Daniel ordered, pulling a suppressed pistol from his holster.

The relief vanished, replaced by a freezing terror.

Daniel wasn’t here to save us. He was the one who let Marco inside. He had cut the power.

“No,” I whispered, stepping backward and shielding Lily behind my body. Bruno bared his teeth, letting out a vicious snarl.

“Don’t be stupid, Emma,” Daniel sneered. “Vanessa paid me half a million dollars to open the gates tonight. She wants the kid gone so she can inherit the trust when Luca dies. Hand her over, and I’ll let you walk out the back door.”

“I’m not giving her to you,” I said, my heart pounding so hard my vision blurred.

Daniel raised the gun, pointing it at my chest. “Then you die for a family that pays you minimum wage.”

He stepped forward.

But he didn’t look at the floor.

He didn’t see the heavy cast-iron skillet I had kicked into his path when I backed away.

Daniel tripped. His foot caught the heavy iron pan, throwing him entirely off balance.

I didn’t wait for him to recover. I grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher mounted on the kitchen wall, ripped it from its bracket, and swung it directly at his head.

The metal cylinder connected with a dull thud. Daniel collapsed onto the tiled floor, unconscious before he even landed.

I dropped the extinguisher, my hands shaking violently.

“Come on, Lily,” I breathed, grabbing her hand. “We have to get to the safe room.”

“Where is it?” she cried softly.

“In your father’s study,” I said.

We crept through the servant corridors, avoiding the main halls where gunfire was still echoing. We reached the heavy oak doors of Luca’s private study.

I pushed them open. The room was dark, smelling of leather and old books.

“Go behind the desk,” I instructed Lily.

I felt along the wooden paneling, searching for the hidden button Luca had accidentally shown me weeks ago when he was reviewing files.

I found it. I pressed hard.

A section of the bookcase clicked open, revealing a reinforced steel door with a keypad.

But before I could enter the code, the study doors burst open behind us.

I spun around.

Vanessa stood in the doorway. Her dress was torn, her hair ruined, but she was holding a gun, and it was pointed directly at Lily.

“You ruin everything, you little rat,” Vanessa hissed, her eyes wild with madness.

She cocked the weapon.

And then, a small, faded photograph slipped from her torn dress pocket and fluttered to the floor.

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