Chapter 2 - The Sound of Fine Crystal
Two days later, the spring sun beat down heavily against the glass facade of the Moretti estate, but inside the formal dining room, the atmosphere was as cold as winter frost.
Luca had come home four hours early. He entered through the private side hall, deliberately bypassing the main foyer because he preferred to observe his household without the choreographed reception staff standing at attention.
As he neared the dining room, a sharp, metallic clink echoed across the floor, followed by a voice that made his footsteps halt.
It was Isabella.
“Start over.”
Luca froze in the shadows of the archway. There was nothing warm in her voice. The sweet, melodic tone she reserved for charity galas and dinner parties had vanished, replaced by an icy, razor-sharp edge.
“If I can see so much as one fingerprint or water spot on that glass, the entire table gets reset,” Isabella commanded. “Do you understand me? Every single piece.”
Elena Bennett stood beside the twelve-seat mahogany dining table, her posture rigid, gripping a white polishing cloth so tightly her knuckles were stark white.
“It was just one tiny smudge, ma’am,” Elena said quietly, her voice trembling slightly.
“Then perhaps people like you should learn that one mistake is sometimes enough to ruin an entire evening,” Isabella snapped, walking slowly around the table, her diamond engagement ring catching the chandelier light. “My parents are dining here tomorrow night. Everything must be pristine. Do you think I want them looking at sloppy work and thinking my household is run by incompetents?”
Luca remained unseen in the shadows, his breathing slowing down into a dangerous, controlled rhythm.
Elena swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the crystal goblet in her hands. “I’ll redo it, Mrs. Romano—Ms. Romano. I’m sorry.”
“All of it,” Isabella insisted.
“The silver too?”
Isabella paused, turning her head with a slow, condescending smile. It was not the smile Luca knew. It was a mask of pure, unadulterated cruelty.
“Did I speak too quickly for you, Elena?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. And while we’re on the subject...” Isabella stepped closer, invading Elena’s personal space. “Keep your child away from the main wing. I saw her wandering near the east parlor yesterday. She is becoming far too comfortable here.”
Elena’s shoulders tightened defensively. “She’s three years old. She got away from me for two minutes—”
“And you are employed here because I was merciful enough not to object when Luca allowed you to bring her into the staff quarters,” Isabella cut in, her voice dropping into a venomous hiss. “Do not confuse my charity with belonging. You are hired help. Act like it.”
Elena didn't answer. She simply stared at the floor, accepting the humiliation with a dead, hollow defeat that made Luca’s blood run cold.
Luca stepped out of the shadows.
“Isabella.”
The sound of his voice whipped Isabella around. The transformation was instantaneous, breathtakingly fake. The cruel smirk vanished, replaced by a radiant, breathless smile.
“Darling!” Isabella cried out, her voice instantly returning to its sweet, musical register. She crossed the room swiftly, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “You’re home early! Why didn't anyone announce you?”
“I wanted to see how the house runs when I’m not paying attention,” Luca replied, his dark eyes locked onto hers.
Isabella laughed lightly, entirely missing the razor-thin ice she was standing on, and linked her arm through his. “Oh, you always joke like that. Elena and I were just fixing a tiny housekeeping detail. She worries terribly about disappointing us, don't you, Elena?”
Luca slowly turned his gaze to the young housekeeper.
“Does she?”
Elena kept her eyes glued to the carpet, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. “Yes, sir.”
Isabella squeezed Elena’s arm—a gesture that looked affectionate to an outsider, but caused Elena to flinch visibly.
May you like
“See? Poor thing,” Isabella cooed, completely blind to the storm gathering in Luca’s eyes. “She’s just overwhelmed.”
Luca said nothing. He walked Isabella out of the dining room toward the solarium, but his mind remained trapped behind him, replaying the cold malice in his fiancée's voice and the bruised wrist of a terrified mother.
