Chapter 3 - THE MAID AND THE MONSTER
Victor Romano rounded the corner of the marble hallway just as Lucas leaned heavily against the mahogany wainscoting, feigning a residual weakness he no longer felt. Victor was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard and a coiled tension in his posture that spoke of a life spent in back alleys and boardrooms alike. When his dark eyes landed on Lucas, a micro-expression of absolute shock flashed across his face. It was there and gone in a fraction of a second, but Lucas, trained to read the subtle tells of liars and killers, caught it perfectly.
Victor had expected to find a corpse.
“Jesus, Boss,” Victor said, rushing forward, his hands reaching out to support Lucas. “You look terrible. You having another episode?”
“Just a mild one,” Lucas rasped, letting Victor take some of his weight. He allowed the physical contact, despite the fact that every instinct in his body screamed at him to wrap his hands around Victor’s throat and squeeze until the traitor’s eyes popped. “Forgot my medicine upstairs. Had to catch my breath.”
Victor’s eyes darted quickly down the hallway, scanning the floor. He was looking for the inhaler he had sabotaged. He was looking for the murder weapon.
“Let me get you to the couch,” Victor said smoothly, though a note of genuine anxiety had crept into his voice. “I’ll have the guards fetch your backup inhaler from the study.”
“No need,” Lucas said, patting his suit pocket. “It passed. I’m fine.”
As Victor draped Lucas’s arm over his shoulder, he finally noticed the tiny figure standing half-hidden behind a large marble pedestal displaying a Roman bust. Lily stood perfectly still, her big brown eyes wide with fear, clutching the hem of her pink pajama shirt.
Victor stopped dead in his tracks. His hand instinctively twitched toward the holster concealed beneath his tailored jacket. “What the hell is that?” he demanded, his voice dropping an octave into something vicious and cruel.
“A child, Victor,” Lucas said coldly, his grip on Victor’s shoulder tightening just enough to send a warning. “Not a threat.”
“Whose kid is this?” Victor snapped, stepping toward Lily. “I ordered the estate cleared for the evening. Nobody is supposed to be here. How did she get past the perimeter?”
Before Lily could shrink back any further, a frantic, sobbing woman burst from the servant’s corridor. It was Maria, the housekeeper. She was a petite woman with dark circles under her eyes and hands calloused from years of hard labor. She was wearing a simple gray uniform, her hair a mess, and when she saw Lucas Moretti and his terrifying lieutenant standing near her daughter, all the blood drained from her face.
She fell to her knees immediately, sliding across the polished floor, and threw her arms around Lily, shielding the girl with her own body.
“Señor Moretti, I am so sorry! Por favor, I beg you!” Maria cried, tears streaming down her face, her whole body trembling violently. “The babysitter did not show up. If I did not come to work, I lose the job. We have nowhere to sleep if I lose the money. I hid her in the closet. She is a good girl, she makes no noise! Please, do not hurt her. Hurt me, but let her go!”
Lucas looked down at the terrified mother and child. Three years ago, he had knelt on the wet grass outside a burning house, begging a God he didn't believe in to give him back his wife and son. He saw that same desperate, suffocating love in Maria’s eyes.
Victor scoffed, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Stupid immigrant. I’ll call the boys to drag them out of here and dump them in the Bronx. Then I’m firing the head of security for this breach.”
“Put the phone away, Victor,” Lucas commanded. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of an executioner’s axe.
Victor paused, his thumb hovering over the screen. “Boss, she compromised the perimeter. She heard us talking about the port shipments. It’s a liability.”
“She’s a mother trying to feed her kid,” Lucas said, stepping away from Victor and walking toward Maria. He knelt down smoothly, ignoring the ache in his chest, until he was eye-level with the sobbing housekeeper.
He reached out and gently touched Maria’s shoulder. She flinched as if burned.
“Maria, look at me,” Lucas said softly.
She slowly raised her tear-stained face, expecting a death sentence.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lucas said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Your daughter is a very special girl. In fact, she’s a guest of honor tonight.”
Victor stared at Lucas as if the boss had lost his mind. “Lucas, what are you doing?”
Lucas ignored him. He stood up, offering his hand to Maria. Hesitantly, she took it, and he pulled her to her feet. “Victor, the meeting is over for tonight. Send the accountant home. Tell the men at the docks to stand down. I’m tired.”
“But the Rossi shipments—”
“I said the meeting is over,” Lucas interrupted, his gray-blue eyes locking onto Victor with a chilling intensity. “Do it.”
Victor’s jaw clenched. He hated being dismissed, especially in front of the help, but he knew better than to push Lucas Moretti when the boss got that specific, dead-eyed look. “Fine. I’ll clear it out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Victor turned on his heel and marched down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing angrily against the marble.
Lucas waited until he heard the heavy front doors close, followed by the sound of Victor’s Mercedes roaring down the driveway. Only then did he let out a long, slow breath. The mansion was quiet again, but it was the quiet of a battlefield just before the first shot is fired.
He turned back to Maria, who was still clutching Lily as if the little girl might evaporate.
“Maria,” Lucas said, his tone shifting into complete seriousness. “I am going to ask you a question, and your life, and your daughter’s life, depends on you giving me the absolute truth. Do you understand?”
Maria nodded frantically, swallowing hard. “Yes, Señor. Anything.”
“Did Victor Romano know you were working tonight?”
Maria hesitated, trying to remember. “No. I was supposed to be off. But Mr. Romano’s driver called me this morning. He said there was a mess in the restricted wing that needed deep cleaning before tonight. He offered me double pay in cash if I came in through the service entrance and stayed out of sight.”
Lucas felt a cold wave of realization wash over him. Victor had intentionally brought in an off-book maid to clean the restricted wing—the very wing where Lucas’s private study and medical supplies were kept. Victor was setting up a fall guy. If Lucas had died tonight, the corrupt police on Victor’s payroll would have found a "confused, desperate maid" wandering the restricted wing. They would have pinned the poisoned inhaler on her, claiming she was a spy for a rival family.
Victor had planned a perfect, airtight assassination.
“Listen to me very carefully, Maria,” Lucas said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick money clip loaded with hundred-dollar bills. He pressed the entire stack into her trembling hands. “You cannot go back to your apartment. You are going to pack a bag for you and Lily right now. I have a private driver waiting in the underground garage. He will take you to a secure penthouse I own in Manhattan. There is food, clothes, and security there. You will not leave that apartment until I come for you.”
Maria looked at the immense stack of cash, completely overwhelmed. “Señor... why?”
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Lucas looked down at Lily. The little girl was still holding her pink, sticker-covered inhaler. She offered him a small, shy smile.
“Because,” Lucas said, a dark, terrible promise burning in his eyes, “your daughter just handed me the key to hell. And I am going to make sure the devil burns in it.”
