The coffee cup was trembling in my hand when Mia’s tiny voice floated through the open study door. “You look mad.”

That evening, a heavy atmosphere descended upon the Castalano estate. The usual quiet luxury was replaced by a tense, nervous energy. Armed security guards doubled their patrols around the perimeter gates, and blacked-out SUVs arrived continuously at the private driveway.

I was in the secondary office organizing dinner arrangements for an unexpected late-night meeting when Renzo knocked on my open door.

"Elena," he said, his tone clipped and professional. "Mr. Castalano wants all non-essential staff off the main floors by eight o'clock tonight."

"Is everything alright, Renzo?" I asked, setting down my pen. "I noticed the extra security outside."

Renzo walked inside and quietly closed the door. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "An old rival from Chicago, Victor Vance, is trying to make a move on our shipping routes. He’s desperate, dangerous, and ruthless. He arrived in the city three days ago."

A chill ran down my spine. "Is there a threat to the house?"

"Not directly," Renzo reassured me, though his eyes told a slightly different story. "Vincent has this place locked down tighter than a fortress. But we don't take chances. Make sure Mia stays in your private living quarters on the third floor tonight."

"I will," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Thank you for telling me."

By nine o'clock, the estate was eerie and quiet. Mia was fast asleep in her small bed, clutching her favorite stuffed bear. I sat on the sofa in our living room, trying to read a book, but every creak of the old house made me jump.

Unable to rest, I decided to go down to the private kitchen on the second floor to make myself a cup of chamomile tea. The corridors were dimly lit, illuminated only by small wall sconces.

As I rounded the corner near the main library, I heard hushed, aggressive voices coming from inside the partially open door.

"...he's getting soft, Victor," a voice whispered harshly. It was a man's voice—someone from the internal security team. "I'm telling you, his focus isn't on the business right now. He's bringing domestic staff into his inner circle. A woman and her kid."

I froze in my tracks, flattening my back against the cold wallpaper.

"I don't care about a maid and a toddler," another deep, raspy voice replied through an encrypted speakerphone. "I care about the codes to the harbor vault. Get me those, Marco, and your payment will be doubled."

"I can get them," Marco, one of the night guards, replied nervously. "But I need more time. Castalano keeps the master keycard in his personal study."

"You have twenty-four hours," the voice on the phone growled. "Or I find someone else to do it, and you get nothing."

The call disconnected.

My chest seized with absolute terror. A traitor inside the house. Someone was working directly with Victor Vance, planning to betray Vincent and steal from him.

I took a slow, terrified step backward, trying to retreat down the hallway without making a sound.

CRACK.