Chapter 7 - The Uninvited Witness
What no one in the grand ballroom knew was that the staff catering the gala had been supplemented by external agency help—and due to a sudden food poisoning outbreak among the agency's primary staff, Mrs. Howerin had been forced to call in emergency support from the Barone estate.
May Ridley stood in the cavernous, bustling service kitchen of the Sartorii mansion, wearing a standard black-and-white catering uniform, her hair neatly tucked beneath a cap. She moved with absolute, silent efficiency, plating delicate hors d'oeuvres while the head caterer shouted frantic instructions across the room.
May wasn't there to cater. She had volunteered for the emergency shift the moment she overheard Luca briefing Alessio about the security blind spots in the Sartorii service wing.
Through the swinging service doors, she could see the edge of the ballroom. She spotted Alessio dancing with Bianca Sartorii, their silhouettes framed by glittering crystal chandeliers. A strange, tight knot formed in her chest—not of jealousy, but of acute, pulsing dread. She knew what Dominic Sartorii had planned for later tonight. In the underworld, a gala was rarely just a party; it was often a stage designed for execution.
"Hey! You, new girl!" the head caterer snapped, shoving a silver tray into May’s hands. "Take this tray of champagne flutes to the private study down the East Hall. Dominic Sartorii requested private service for his associates. And don't look anyone in the eye!"
"Yes, sir," May replied flatly, keeping her head bowed.
She took the tray and walked out of the chaotic kitchen, stepping into the quiet, heavily paneled corridors of the East Hall. The muffled music from the ballroom faded into a distant hum as she approached the heavy mahogany doors of Dominic Sartorii’s private study.
The door was slightly ajar.
May paused, pressing her back against the cool wood paneling just outside the frame. Inside, voices spoke in harsh, hushed tones.
May you like
"—if Alessio signs the merger agreement tonight after the dance, we take full control of the western port by Monday," Dominic Sartorii’s voice hissed. "And if he refuses... well, the sedative we slipped into his champagne flute during the second toast will take full effect before midnight. Once he's incapacitated, we plant the contraband in his car, leak it to federal agents, and destroy the Barone name from the inside out."
May’s breath caught violently in her throat. A sedative in his champagne. They weren't just planning a corporate takeover; they were staging a fatal trap to permanently eliminate Alessio Barone.
