Chapter 5 - The Midnight Confrontation
Panic flashed across Elena’s face. She darted forward, grabbing a stray towel to shove into the laundry bin, her hands shaking so violently she dropped it twice.
“Get behind the laundry racks,” Luca ordered in a sharp whisper.
“Mr. Moretti, if she sees me in here with you at this hour—”
“Do it, Elena. Now.”
Reluctantly, Elena slipped behind the heavy canvas sorting hampers just as the door pushed open wide.
Isabella stood in the doorway, wrapped in a silk designer robe, her long dark hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She looked irritated, her eyes scanning the dim room until they landed on Luca.
“Luca? What on earth are you doing down here in the service wing at midnight?” Isabella asked, her voice dripping with annoyance as she stepped into the room. “I woke up and the bed was empty. I thought you were in the study.”
Luca stood his ground, casually blocking the view of the laundry hampers. “I couldn't sleep. I wanted to check the estate security logs.”
“Security logs?” Isabella scoffed, taking a step closer and linking her arm through his, pressing her body against him with practiced familiarity. “You’re letting this place consume you. Come back to bed, darling. Leave the servants to do their work.”
“The servants are asleep, Isabella,” Luca replied smoothly, though his eyes were as cold as winter ice.
“Good. Then let them stay asleep.” Isabella reached up, trailing a manicured fingernail along his lapel. But as she moved, her gaze drifted past his shoulder toward the corner of the room, where a small pink sneaker was visible beneath the folding table.
Isabella’s hand froze.
Her eyes narrowed. She pulled back from Luca, stepping past him with surprising speed. She yanked the canvas laundry hamper aside.
Elena was crouched behind it, her head bowed, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
Isabella let out a sharp, incredulous breath.
“What is the meaning of this?” Isabella shrieked, her sweet facade shattering instantly. She pointed a trembling finger down at the housekeeper. “What are you doing hiding in the linen room at midnight? Are you insane? Or are you just looking for things to steal?”
Elena slowly stood up, her face pale, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. “I was finishing the inventory, ma’am. I lost track of time.”
“Inventory at midnight?” Isabella turned her fury on Luca, her voice rising in pitch. “Luca, do you see this? This woman is sneaking around our private quarters in the dead of night! She has a child living in the staff wing, and now she’s lurking in the dark corridors. I told you three days ago, she needs to be fired immediately!”
“She was doing her job, Isabella,” Luca said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
“My job is to protect this household!” Isabella shouted. “And I will not have unstable, suspicious drifters wandering through our halls! Look at her—she doesn't belong here. Fire her tonight, Luca. Right now, or I swear to God, I’ll have security throw her belongings out onto the driveway myself.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Elena flinched as if she had been physically struck. She closed her eyes, waiting for the axe to fall, accepting her inevitable doom.
Luca didn't move. He looked at Isabella—really looked at her—for the first time in two years. He saw the vanity, the cold entitlement, the absolute lack of human empathy hiding beneath the designer clothes and high-society pedigree.
Marco had told her she was built for his life.
Marco was wrong. She was built for a prison.
“No,” Luca said softly.
Isabella blinked, stunned. “What did you say?”
“I said no,” Luca repeated, stepping between Isabella and Elena like a shield. “She stays.”
“Luca, have you lost your mind? She is nothing! She’s a hired maid!”
“She is a human being,” Luca retorted, his voice rising like the swell of a dark tide, “working in my house. And as long as she is under this roof, she answers to me—not you.”
Isabella’s face drained of color, replaced by an ugly, humiliated rage. She stared at him as if he had just slapped her across the face.
“You’re choosing a maid over me?” she whispered, her voice trembling with malice. “Over your future wife? My father will hear about this, Luca. Every major family in New York will know how you humiliated me for a servant.”
“Tell your father whatever you like,” Luca said coldly, turning his back on her. “Get out of the service wing, Isabella. Now.”
Trembling with fury, Isabella spun around and stormed out of the room, her silk robe rustling violently against the doorframe, slamming the heavy oak door behind her so hard the plaster rattled.
The room went dead silent again.
Elena stood frozen, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She looked up at Luca with a mixture of awe and absolute terror.
“Mr. Moretti... you shouldn't have done that,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “She’s right. She’s going to ruin you.”
Luca turned back to face her. He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently catching her wrist—right over the dark bruise.
Elena gasped, pulling back instinctively, but Luca held her gently, his dark eyes fierce and unyielding.
May you like
“Nobody ruins me, Elena,” Luca said softly. “And nobody hurts the people under my roof.”
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the housekeeper standing in the quiet shadows of the linen closet, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
