Chapter 1 – THE SOUND BEHIND THE LOCKED DOOR
“Who were you afraid would come, Vanessa?”
Luca’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. In the sudden silence of the dining room, his words carried a weight that made the guards by the door shift uncomfortably.
Vanessa’s perfectly manicured hands gripped the edge of the table. Her red silk dress seemed too bright for the sudden chill in the room.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Luca,” she said, her voice tight. “I wasn’t hiding from anyone. The smoke brings the fire department. Fire trucks bring the police. You have that warehouse shipment coming in tonight. I was protecting you.”
It was a good lie. It sounded loyal.
But I watched Luca’s jaw tighten.
“The warehouse shipment was rerouted to Chicago three days ago,” Luca said softly. “You were the one who signed off on the logistics.”
Vanessa’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
I took a step back, wanting to disappear into the kitchen, but Luca’s hand went up, a silent command for me to stay.
I looked down at the serving counter to avoid their eyes. That was when I saw it.
Wedged between the wall and the heavy oak buffet table, half-hidden by a dropped napkin, was a crumpled piece of paper. As a maid, my eyes were trained to spot trash. I bent down and pulled it free.
It was a child’s drawing. Crayon on heavy construction paper. A wobbly sketch of a house, a large dog, and a small boy trapped in what looked like a cage. In the corner, written in clumsy, blocky letters, was a name: Leo.
My breath hitched.
Leo was Luca’s six-year-old nephew. He had been sent away to a boarding school in Switzerland right after I started working here. I had never even seen him.
Except, the crayon on this paper was still waxy. Fresh.
Vanessa saw what I was holding. The color drained completely from her face.
“Put that down,” she snapped, dropping her elegant facade. She lunged toward me, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood.
Luca intercepted her, catching her wrist effortlessly. He didn’t look at her; he looked at me.
“Bring that here, Grace.”
My hands were shaking again, this time not from the fire. I walked over and handed him the drawing.
Luca stared at the wobbly crayon lines. The silence in the room stretched until it felt like a wire about to snap.
“Leo is in Geneva,” Luca said, his voice hollow.
“He is,” Vanessa insisted, her voice shrill. “One of the staff must have found an old drawing in the attic.”
It was the second lie she’d told in three minutes.
I didn’t know why I spoke. I was a maid behind on rent. I should have kept my mouth shut.
“It’s not old,” I said quietly. “The crayon is fresh. It smudged on my thumb.”
I held up my hand. A smear of dark blue wax coated my thumb.
Luca released Vanessa’s wrist as if touching her disgusted him. He turned toward the grand hallway.
Suddenly, a heavy, muffled thud echoed from the East Wing—a section of the house Vanessa had declared off-limits for renovations two weeks ago.
Luca didn’t wait. He drew the gun from his shoulder holster and walked toward the locked doors.
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