Chapter 3 - Behind Closed Doors
Upstairs in Sofia’s bedroom, Emily locked the door and sat with the little girl on the plush canopy bed. Outside the storm had begun to howl, rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the private Moretti estate.
“Emily? Is Daddy going to marry her?” Sofia whispered, wiping her red, swollen eyes.
“No, darling,” Emily said softly, gently unbuckling the small orthopedic shoes from Sofia’s feet and setting them aside. “Your father loves you more than anything in this world. He would never let anyone hurt you.”
“She gave me pills, Emily,” Sofia said quietly.
Emily froze. Her heart skipped a dangerous beat. She leaned down, looking directly into Sofia’s innocent brown eyes. “What pills, Sofia? When?”
“Every afternoon when you went to the garden to pick flowers for the foyer,” Sofia sniffled. “Vanessa would bring me warm milk. She said it was vitamins that Dr. Lorenzo sent. But whenever I drank it, my legs felt like heavy stones. I couldn't even stand up to reach my crayons. And my head would spin.”
A cold dread flooded Emily’s veins. She remembered finding small yellow residue at the bottom of Sofia’s porcelain mugs over the last three weeks. She had assumed it was crushed calcium tablets.
Emily immediately stood up, walked to Sofia’s bathroom cabinet, and pulled out the small pill organizer Vanessa had insisted on keeping locked. With trembling hands, Emily used a metal hairpin from her hair to pop the lock open. Inside were unmarked silver blister packs.
Before Emily could examine them further, the heavy double doors of the master wing opened downstairs. Shouts echoed up the stairwell, followed by the sound of someone being dragged across marble.
Emily stepped out onto the mezzanine balcony.
Below, two of Luca’s personal enforcers were hauling Antonio Bellini toward the rear exit, the man pleading in frantic, broken Italian. Vanessa was standing in the center of the foyer, her designer dress torn at the collar, her makeup smeared with tears of pure rage.
“You’ll regret this, Luca!” Vanessa screamed, her voice shrill. “You think you can cast the Bellini family aside? My cousins control the docks in Palermo! You won’t ship a single container without our blessing! And as for that pathetic little maid—”
Luca stepped into the foyer. He was adjusting the cuff of his dark suit, his expression completely devoid of mercy.
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“You will never mention Emily’s name again,” Luca said, his voice reverberating through the vast hall. “And if you or any member of your bloodline comes within ten miles of this estate, I will not call the police, Vanessa. I will call the cleaners.”
He nodded to his head of security, Marco. “Throw her out into the rain. No car. No luggage. Let her walk back to her father’s crumbling townhouse.”
