Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY CHAIR
The dining room went dead silent.
Dante stood up. His chair scraped violently against the hardwood floor.
“Where is she?” he asked.
The nanny, Sarah, was trembling. Her hands were clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white. She looked at Dante, then her eyes darted toward Vivienne.
“I… I don’t know, sir,” Sarah stammered. “She went into the washroom. I waited right outside the door. But when she didn’t come out, I went in. The window was open. She was gone.”
“A second-story window?” Dante’s voice was dangerously low. “You’re telling me my seven-year-old daughter climbed out of a second-story window in a ballgown?”
Vivienne gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my god. Dante, the property line. The lake.”
“Shut up,” Dante snapped, not looking at her. He strode toward Sarah. “Who else was in the hallway?”
“No one,” Sarah cried. “I swear!”
I looked at Ruth. The older woman was gripping the edge of the table. She had heard the truth. We both knew Sarah was lying.
“Lock the gates,” Dante told his brother, Leo. “Nobody leaves the estate. Not the guests. Not the staff. Call the police.”
Leo pulled out his phone and ran toward the foyer.
The guests began murmuring in panic. Vivienne stepped forward, placing a manicured hand on Dante’s arm. “Darling, let’s not cause a panic. You know how Lily gets. She’s probably just hiding. She’s always been… a difficult child.”
Dante pulled his arm away as if she had burned him.
“My daughter is missing. Do not call her difficult.”
He stormed out of the dining room. Vivienne’s mask slipped for a fraction of a second. I saw the cold, calculated fury in her eyes before she smoothed her features into a mask of worried distress.
“Everyone, please remain seated,” Vivienne told the guests. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”
She turned and locked eyes with me.
“Emily. Come with me to the kitchen. Now.”
I didn’t move. I looked at Ruth.
“Go,” Ruth whispered. “I’m fine.”
I followed Vivienne through the swinging doors into the stainless-steel kitchen. The moment the doors swung shut, the elegant fiancée vanished.
She backed me against the prep counter.
“What did that deaf old bat tell you?” Vivienne demanded, her voice a venomous hiss.
“She isn’t deaf,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. “And she told Mr. Costa exactly what she heard.”
“You’re a waitress, Emily. A nobody. Do you have any idea how much debt your family is in? I do. I ran background checks on all the staff when I moved in. If you breathe a word of this to the police, you’ll be blacklisted in this city. You’ll never pour another cup of coffee, let alone pay your mother’s medical bills.”
I stared at her. The escalation was immediate. She wasn’t just a cruel boss; she had weaponized my real life.
“Where is Lily?” I asked.
“She’s going somewhere she can get the help she needs,” Vivienne sneered. “A very strict, very private facility in Switzerland. Dante is too soft to do what needs to be done. By tomorrow morning, she’ll be on a private jet, and I’ll be the only family he has left.”
She reached into her designer clutch and pulled out a thick envelope. She shoved it into my apron pocket.
“Ten thousand dollars in cash. You take it. You tell Dante that Ruth is senile and makes things up. If you don’t, I will ruin you.”
She turned on her heel and walked back into the dining room.
I stood there, shaking. I pulled the envelope out. It was heavy. My mother’s hospital bills were sitting on my kitchen counter at home. This money could fix everything.
But then I looked down at the floor near the pantry door.
There was a smear of wet mud on the pristine white tile. It hadn’t been there ten minutes ago.
I followed the trail. It led to the heavy oak door of the walk-in pantry.
I pushed the door open.
Sarah, the nanny, was curled in the corner behind the flour sacks, sobbing into her hands.
“Sarah?” I whispered.
She looked up. Her mascara was running down her cheeks. But it wasn’t her tears that made my blood run cold.
It was what she was clutching in her right hand.
It was Lily’s silver charm bracelet. The one Dante had given her for her birthday.
“She didn’t go out the window,” Sarah choked out. “The man… he came out of the linen room. He told me if I didn’t unlock the side door, he’d hurt my little sister.”
“Who was he?” I asked, kneeling beside her.
Sarah opened her hand. Beneath the silver bracelet was a crumpled piece of heavy cardstock.
It was a first-class boarding pass to Geneva. But the name printed on it wasn't Lily Costa.
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It was my name. Emily Vance.
“He said,” Sarah whispered, terrified, “that you were the one taking her.”
