Chapter 7 - The Trap Is Set
By midday, the estate had seemingly returned to its normal, suffocating routine. The armed guards at the gates were rotated, the staff moved through the corridors with lowered heads, and the rain finally tapered off into a heavy, damp mist that clung to the manicured lawns.
I was back in the main kitchen, wiping down the marble countertops under the watchful eye of two security guards stationed near the pantry archway.
The door to the private study down the hall stood slightly ajar.
Through the crack, I could see Rocco Moretti sitting behind his massive walnut desk, deep in conversation with a man I didn't recognize—a sleek, sharp-suited corporate attorney who had arrived by helicopter an hour earlier.
“The board vote is locked for Thursday,” the attorney was saying, his voice carrying clearly through the heavy oak door. “If the Lake Forest properties are frozen due to an internal security breach or an active federal investigation into the estate's domestic staff, Caleb Stone and his associates will have enough leverage to trigger the emergency receivership clause.”
Rocco didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in his leather chair, his fingers steepened beneath his chin, his dark eyes fixed on a digital tablet displaying the estate’s live security feeds.
“Let them try,” Rocco’s voice rumbled low and cold. “Caleb thinks he’s running a coup. He thinks because Mara is gone, the foundation is weak.”
“Boss, with all due respect, the syndicate is watching every move you make,” the attorney warned. “If you execute Caleb without public proof of treason, the eastern families will tear us apart.”
“I’m not going to execute him,” Rocco said quietly. “I’m going to let him finish what he started.”
Outside in the kitchen, my hands froze over the polishing cloth.
Let him finish what he started.
Rocco was intentionally leaving the door open. He was baiting Caleb into making a second move—forcing the security chief to try and cover his tracks by eliminating the only loose ends left in the house: me and my daughter.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I looked toward the corner where Lily was quietly playing with a wooden puzzle at the small staff table, completely unaware that her life was currently being used as a pawn in a high-stakes mafia chess match.
I had to get her out of here.
No job, no salary, no amount of protection was worth gambling my child’s life against men who played for keeps.
When the two guards stationed by the pantry momentarily turned their backs to check a radio dispatch, I dropped my towel, grabbed Lily’s hand, and whispered fiercely, “Don't make a sound. We’re going.”
We didn't run—running looked suspicious. We walked with measured, calm steps toward the back service exit that led directly to the staff parking lot.
Just as my hand touched the brass panic bar of the heavy steel door, it swung open outward on its own.
Caleb Stone was standing on the other side.
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He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing a dark tactical holster strapped beneath his arm, and his face wore a twisted, desperate grin that made my blood run instantly cold.
“Going somewhere, Elena?” Caleb asked softly, blocking the doorway completely.
