Chapter 4 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING
Luca froze, his hand suspended in the freezing air of the cramped room.
The absolute heartbreak that crossed his face was so raw, so deeply human, that I had to look away. He slowly pulled his cuff down, hiding the snake tattoo from the terrified child’s view.
“Who told you that?” Luca asked gently, his voice cracking. “Who told you I hurt your daddy?”
The boy, trembling violently in the corner, clutched the crumpled piece of paper to his chest. “Uncle Julian. He said my daddy loved me, but the snake man took him away.”
Julian. Marcus.
He hadn’t just orchestrated a fake marriage to steal Luca’s money. He had taken Luca’s nephew and brainwashed him, turning the boy against his own blood to use him as the ultimate insurance policy.
I stepped forward, moving slowly so I wouldn’t frighten the child further. I knelt beside Luca on the cold wooden floor, my maid's uniform brushing the dust.
“Hi,” I said softly, keeping my hands visible and open. “My name is Sophie. What’s your name?”
The boy sniffled, wiping his runny nose with his sleeve. He looked at me, taking in my non-threatening demeanor.
“Leo,” he whispered.
“That’s a very brave name, Leo. It means lion.” I smiled warmly, ignoring the terrifying reality of the armed mafia boss kneeling silently beside me. “I like to fix things, Leo. Clothes, mostly. Do you have anything that’s broken?”
Leo hesitated. He looked at the door, then back at me. Slowly, he reached under his thin blanket and pulled out a small, gray stuffed elephant. One of its button eyes was missing, and the seam along its back was torn, white stuffing spilling out onto the floor.
“His name is Barnaby,” Leo whispered. “Uncle Julian got mad because I was crying. He threw him.”
My heart ached with a fierce, sudden anger. I reached into my apron pocket. I always carried a small emergency sewing kit—a habit from my hotel days that I'd never broken.
“I can fix Barnaby,” I said gently. “If you let me.”
Leo slowly handed me the elephant. I threaded a needle with gray thread and began stitching the tear, my hands moving with practiced, calming precision.
Luca watched me, his dark eyes filled with a quiet, profound gratitude.
“You said you had a drawing, Leo?” I asked casually, keeping my eyes on my stitching so he wouldn't feel pressured.
Leo nodded. He unfolded the crumpled paper in his hand and pushed it toward me.
It was a child’s crayon drawing. But Leo hadn't drawn it. The lines were too sharp, the intent too cruel. It showed a man with a silver rosary lying on the ground, and another man standing over him holding a gun. The man standing had a dark, exaggerated scribble on his arm.
“Uncle Julian drew it for me,” Leo said softly. “So I would never forget who the bad man is.”
Luca closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Julian killed my brother. And he used my own tattoo to frame me to my nephew.”
I bit off the thread and handed the newly repaired Barnaby back to Leo. The boy hugged the elephant tightly, looking at me with big, tearful eyes.
“We need to get him out of here,” I said to Luca. “It’s freezing, and he needs a warm meal.”
Luca nodded. He didn’t try to touch Leo again, knowing the trauma ran too deep for a quick fix. Instead, he stood up and looked at me. “Will you carry him?”
I reached out, and to my surprise, Leo let me pick him up. He was so light, too light for a five-year-old. He buried his face into the collar of my coat, his small fingers gripping my shoulders.
We walked out of the boarding house and into the rain. Luca stripped off his heavy, expensive wool coat and wrapped it around my shoulders to keep Leo dry as we ran to the SUV.
As we reached the car, Luca’s phone buzzed. He answered it on speaker.
It was one of his guards from the mansion.
“Boss,” the guard’s voice was panicked, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass in the background. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?” Luca demanded, opening the passenger door for me.
“Vanessa is gone. She picked the lock on the east wing. And Julian just breached the front gates with twenty heavily armed men. They’re tearing the house apart.”
Luca’s expression turned lethal.
“Get your men out of there,” Luca ordered. “I don't care about the house.”
“Wait,” the guard shouted over the noise. “They’re not looking for you, Boss. Julian is yelling about the girl. He’s looking for the maid.”
My blood ran instantly cold.
Luca stared at me through the rain, the streetlamp casting harsh shadows across his face.
“Why is he looking for you, Sophie?”
May you like
I reached into my apron pocket. My fingers brushed against a folded piece of thick, glossy cardstock I had found stuffed inside Vanessa’s wedding dress lining while repairing it earlier that afternoon. I had meant to throw it away, thinking it was trash.
“Because,” I whispered, pulling the cardstock out into the light. “I think I took something that belongs to him.”
