Chapter 2 - The Fourth Floor Sanctuary
The fourth-floor guest suite felt less like a room and more like a high-security prison cell disguised as luxury. Heavy velvet drapes covered the windows overlooking the courtyard, and the door was reinforced with a steel-plate core.
Lucia sat on the edge of the velvet-upholstered armchair, staring at her hands. The adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache in her temples.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It opened before she could answer, and Enzo stepped inside, carrying a secure laptop and a sealed bottle of water. He set them on the mahogany side table.
“Your brother, Leo, is settled,” Enzo said, breaking the silence. “My security team relocated him to our upstate property five minutes ago. He’s safe.”
“Thank you,” Lucia murmured, not looking up. “Though I still don't understand why you’re doing this. I’m just a night nurse.”
Enzo pulled up a chair opposite her, sitting down with a deliberate calm. “My grandfather doesn't make mistakes. When he pointed at you, it wasn't because he lost his mind. It was because he knew you were the only person in that room who couldn't be bought, threatened, or intimidated by the Marchetti name.”
“I was terrified,” Lucia retorted, finally meeting his gaze.
“Being afraid and being controllable are two different things,” Enzo countered. “You stood your ground against Camilla. You told my grandfather no. And you stayed calm when his pulse spiked.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “My father died twenty years ago in what the police called a brake failure on the Triborough Bridge. The official report said it was an accident. My grandfather never believed it. For two decades, he’s been gathering proof that someone inside our inner circle sabotaged his car.”
Lucia’s breath hitched. “You think Gaetano did it.”
“I know Gaetano wanted the shipping empire,” Enzo said darkly. “And I know he’s spent the last six months trying to force my grandfather to sign over his voting shares. But Alfonso refused. Instead, he locked the evidence away in the old estate library—a safe that can only be opened using a mechanical combination known by my grandfather and...” He paused. “My father.”
“And tomorrow at 11:40,” Lucia whispered, connecting the pieces, “is when your grandfather plans to open it.”
“Or when he plans to name the person who helped Gaetano orchestrate the murder.” Enzo stood up, pacing toward the window. “That’s why the note told you to leave. Whoever is leaking our movements inside this house knows what Alfonso is planning.”
“And if I stay?”
Enzo turned around, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “If you stay, you become a target. Gaetano won't just try to scare you next time. He’ll eliminate anyone standing between him and that library.”
May you like
Lucia stood up, walking over to face him. Despite the danger humming in the air, the fear that had paralyzed her earlier transformed into something sharper. “Then it’s a good thing I’m a very stubborn nurse.”
Enzo stared at her for a long moment, a faint, rare glimmer of respect flashing in his dark eyes. “Get some sleep, Lucia. Tomorrow is going to be the longest day of your life.”
