THE HOUSEKEEPER’S SECRET AND THE GOLD-FRAMED MIRROR

Vanessa stood under the harsh amber light of the porch, looking like a ghost dragged back from the grave.

Her immaculate red silk gown was torn at the hem, stained with black soot and something suspiciously dark and dried near the collar. Her perfect hair was a tangled, chaotic mess. But it was her eyes that made my blood run cold. They were wide, frantic, and filled with genuine, animalistic terror.

The first question was answered: Marcus hadn't killed Vanessa in the conservatory. He had left her for dead, or she had somehow escaped his trap before the fire consumed the estate.

But two new questions instantly replaced it. How did she find this off-the-books safe house? And why would she run directly to the man she had just spent weeks trying to destroy?

Luca didn't lower his gun. He aimed it squarely at the center of her chest.

“Give me one reason not to pull this trigger,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a lethal, vibrating octave.

Vanessa’s knees gave out. She collapsed onto the marble threshold, sobbing hysterically. “He tried to kill me, Luca! Marcus tried to kill me! He pushed me down the stairs in the conservatory and left me there. When I woke up, the house was on fire. I barely made it out the kitchen doors!”

“You set the trap for me tonight, Vanessa,” Luca said coldly, stepping back just enough to keep her in his line of sight without letting her fully inside. “You helped him plant the bugs. You helped him frame Daniel. You signed your own death warrant the minute you took his money.”

“I didn't know he was going to burn the house down!” she screamed, her voice cracking. Tears cut clean tracks through the soot on her face. “He told me we were just going to force you to sign Leo’s trust over to me, and then I would transfer the funds to his offshore account! He promised me twenty million and a flight to Paris!”

“And what about Leo?” I blurted out, stepping out from the kitchen. I couldn't stop myself. “What were you going to do with a six-year-old boy in Paris?”

Vanessa looked up at me, her eyes flashing with a brief, familiar spark of arrogance before the terror swallowed it again. “I wasn't taking the brat! Marcus was supposed to put him in a boarding school in Switzerland.”

Luca’s jaw clenched so tightly I thought his teeth would shatter. He reached down, grabbed the collar of Vanessa’s ruined dress, and hauled her roughly to her feet, dragging her inside and slamming the heavy door shut.

“How did you find this house?” Luca demanded, pressing the barrel of his gun under her chin.

Vanessa gasped, her hands shaking as she held them up in surrender. “Your jacket! The black silk coat you wore to dinner. You left it draped over the chair in the dining room when you went to the study. I searched the pockets looking for the vault keys. I found a receipt for the property taxes on this address. I drove here hoping you’d come.”

Luca stared at her. His cold calculation was terrifying to watch. He lowered the gun, though his grip on it remained white-knuckled.

“You’re a liability, Vanessa. To me, and to Marcus. If the Petrov syndicate finds out you’re alive and can testify that Marcus staged the fire and the deepfakes, they’ll kill you themselves.”

“I know!” she sobbed, clutching his arm. “That’s why I came to you! Luca, please. I’ll testify in front of the Commission. I’ll tell the other mafia captains everything Marcus did. Just protect me. Please.”

Luca looked at me over her shoulder. The unspoken communication between us was suddenly crystal clear. Vanessa was entirely self-serving. She would sell out Marcus today just as easily as she had sold out Luca yesterday. But she was the key. With Vincenzo’s microfiche ledger and Vanessa’s eyewitness testimony, Luca could completely destroy Marcus at the emergency syndicate meeting tomorrow.

“Go upstairs, Claire,” Luca said softly. “Check on Leo.”

“I’m not leaving you down here with her,” I replied stubbornly.

Vanessa sneered at me, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Oh, please. The little maid thinks she’s a bodyguard now. How touching.”

“Shut up,” Luca snapped at Vanessa, his voice cracking like a whip. She instantly flinched.

He turned back to me. “Claire, please. Just ensure the boy is asleep.”

I hesitated, then nodded. I turned and walked up the wide oak staircase. As I reached the landing, I glanced back down. Luca was shoving Vanessa toward the guest bathroom in the hallway.

“Clean yourself up,” I heard him say. “And if you try to open a window, I will shoot you myself.”

I walked down the hall and quietly pushed open the door to Leo’s room. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight spilling through the blinds. I expected to see the small lump of the boy sleeping under the heavy comforter.

The bed was empty.

My heart completely stopped.

“Leo?” I whispered, panic rising in my throat. I rushed to the bed and threw back the blankets. Nothing. I dropped to my knees and looked under the bed. Empty. The closet door was ajar—empty.

The bathroom door connected to the bedroom was open. The light was off.

“Leo, honey, are you in here?” I called out, my voice shaking. I reached into the dark bathroom and flicked the light switch.

The bright vanity bulbs flickered on, revealing the small boy sitting inside the dry bathtub. He was clutching his stuffed bear tightly, rocking back and forth.

But it wasn't the sight of the traumatized child that made me freeze.

It was what was wrapped around his small wrists.

A thick, heavy zip-tie.

Before my brain could process how Leo had been tied up inside a locked safe house, a cold, hard piece of metal pressed firmly against the back of my skull.

“Don't scream, Claire,” a familiar, sophisticated voice whispered directly into my ear. “Or the boy’s head becomes a canoe.”

I slowly raised my hands, my blood turning to ice.

The man standing behind me wasn't Marcus. It wasn't one of the Petrov hitmen.

It was Julian. Luca’s cousin, and the family’s top financial advisor.

Julian stepped around me, keeping the suppressed pistol aimed squarely between my eyes. He looked impeccably dressed in a navy bespoke suit, completely unbothered by the chaos of the night.

“Hello, Claire,” Julian smiled, adjusting his silk tie with his free hand. “I must say, I didn't expect the housekeeper to make it this far. You’ve been quite the stubborn little weed.”

“Julian?” I breathed, my mind spinning violently. “What are you doing? Luca is right downstairs.”

“I know exactly where my dear cousin is,” Julian chuckled softly. “In fact, I’m the one who sent Vanessa here.”

I stared at him, the horrifying truth clicking into place.

Vanessa hadn't found the address on a tax receipt. She had been sent here as a distraction. A Trojan horse to keep Luca occupied in the foyer while Julian slipped in through the back.

“Marcus is dead, Claire,” Julian stated casually, checking his glowing Rolex. “I shot him in the head behind the estate ten minutes after you left. He was a useful idiot for starting the fire, but his ambitions were entirely too loud.”

My breath caught. “You’re the one who sold the family out to the Petrovs.”

“Oh, don't insult me.” Julian rolled his eyes, resting the barrel of his gun against my cheek. “I didn't sell out to the Petrovs. I bought the Petrovs. I bought the judges. I bought the police. And tomorrow morning, when the captains find Luca dead in this safe house alongside his treacherous fiancée, I will step in as the grieving cousin and take control of the entire empire.”

Julian grabbed my arm roughly, yanking me toward the bathroom door. “Now. Let’s go downstairs and say goodbye to Luca.”

As he shoved me forward into the bedroom, my foot kicked something on the carpet. I glanced down.