THE PRICE OF A STOLEN CRUMB

I froze on the marble floor, the silver pocket watch heavy and cold in my palm.

Victor stepped fully into the closet, letting the heavy oak door swing shut behind him. The sudden dimness felt suffocating. He didn't look like an uncle anymore; he looked like a predator who had just cornered his prey.

“I was just hanging up your coat, sir,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. I stood up, keeping the watch hidden in the folds of the cashmere as I draped it back over the velvet hanger.

Victor reached out and grabbed my wrist. His grip was shockingly strong for a man his age.

“You’re a smart girl, Lena,” Victor murmured, leaning in. He smelled of expensive scotch and cigar smoke. “Too smart for a maid. But smart people know when to keep their mouths shut.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered, staring at the floor.

“Dominic is throwing Vivienne out right now,” Victor said, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. “He thinks she’s a greedy, social-climbing fool. Which she is. But he also thinks she’s the one bleeding his accounts dry. It’s the perfect distraction.”

He squeezed my wrist harder, grinding my bones together. I winced.

“If you go to him with wild stories about my coat, he won't believe you. But more importantly,” Victor smiled, “I know your mother is at the Elmwood Care Facility. I pay the invoices for the staff. It would be a terrible shame if her medical care was suddenly... interrupted.”

A cold dread washed over me. He had done his homework. He held my mother’s life in his hands.

He let go of my wrist, straightened his lapels, and walked out of the closet.

I stood there in the dark, shaking. He had answered one question—he was the traitor—but he opened a massive, terrifying new one. How deep did his betrayal go, and how much power did he actually have over Dominic?

I grabbed Emma’s yellow raincoat and rushed back to the kitchen.

Emma was sitting on a stool, swinging her legs. When she saw my pale face, her smile faded.

“Are you okay, Lena?” she asked.

“I’m fine, sweetie,” I lied, helping her into her coat. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

As we walked through the main hall, the front door was wide open. The rain was blowing in. Vivienne was standing on the porch, crying hysterically as two of Dominic’s security men loaded her Louis Vuitton trunks into a black SUV.

Dominic stood in the doorway, his face carved out of stone.

He watched the car drive away, then turned and saw us. His eyes softened the moment they landed on his daughter.

“Emma, go up to your room,” Dominic said gently. “Lena will be right up to read you a story.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Emma said, holding her little blue purse. She hurried up the stairs.

I started to follow her, but Dominic’s voice stopped me.

“Lena. A word.”

I stepped into his study. The room smelled of leather and rain. He closed the door behind us.

“I owe you an apology,” Dominic said, leaning against his heavy oak desk. “You protected my daughter tonight when the woman I was about to marry did not.”

“You don't owe me an apology, Mr. Caruso. I just wanted Emma to feel safe.”

Dominic looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in two years.

“The school fund will be replenished tomorrow,” he said quietly. “But there’s something else. When Vivienne was packing, she was screaming that Victor was framing her. She said he’s been threatening her.”

My breath hitched.

“She said Victor has something of mine,” Dominic continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. “My father’s silver pocket watch. Did you see Victor with it tonight?”

I thought of my mother lying in her bed at Elmwood. I thought of Victor’s crushing grip on my wrist.

Before I could answer, the door to the study swung open.