THE PRICE OF A STOLEN CRUMB

I stared at the photograph of my mother, the red ink on the back burning into my vision. Victor wasn't just threatening me anymore. He was actively tracking her. He had planted this in the car for Emma to find, knowing she would bring it straight to me.

It was a warning. I see you.

“Lena, why does Uncle Victor have a picture of your mom?” Emma asked, her small brow furrowed in confusion.

I quickly shoved the photo into my pocket and forced a bright, reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing, sweetie. Uncle Victor is just helping me with some paperwork for her doctor,” I lied smoothly, smoothing down Emma’s hair. “Come on, let’s get you your after-school snack.”

I walked her to the kitchen, my mind racing. Victor and Vivienne were working together. They were planning to kill Dominic by next Friday, and if I breathed a word of it, my mother would die first.

I couldn't go to the police. Dominic was the head of a mafia family; the police were either on Victor’s payroll or they would arrest Dominic themselves.

I had to get my mother out of Elmwood.

That night, after the house went to sleep, I packed a small duffel bag. I took all the cash I had saved from two years of working.

I snuck down the back staircase and out through the kitchen door. The rain had stopped, leaving the night air cold and crisp. I borrowed one of the staff cars—an old, unassuming sedan—and drove an hour out into the suburbs to Elmwood.

When I arrived, the facility was quiet. I walked up to the night nurse's station.

“I’m here for Mary Carter,” I said, keeping my head down. “Family emergency. I need to discharge her immediately.”

The nurse looked at me, confused. She clicked her mouse a few times.

“I’m sorry, Miss Carter,” the nurse said gently. “Your mother was transferred this afternoon.”

The floor seemed to drop out from under me. “Transferred? To where? I didn't authorize a transfer!”

“The paperwork was signed by her financial sponsor,” the nurse said, turning the monitor so I could see. “A Mr. Victor Caruso. He had her moved to a private hospice facility upstate. He said it was closer to your new home.”

I couldn't breathe. Victor had moved her. She was entirely in his custody now. He had stripped me of my only leverage.

I stumbled out of the facility and sat in the cold driver's seat of the sedan, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I was trapped.

I drove back to the estate, slipping into the house just as the sun began to rise.

As I walked into the kitchen to start the morning coffee, the lights suddenly snapped on.

Dominic was sitting at the massive marble island. He wasn't wearing a suit. He was wearing dark jeans and a black henley, looking rough and dangerous. A glass of amber liquid sat untouched in front of him.

“Where did you go tonight, Lena?” he asked. His voice was low, devoid of its usual warmth.

“I couldn't sleep, sir. I went for a drive.”

Dominic stood up. He walked around the island, stepping into my personal space. The sheer size of him was intimidating. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

He tapped the screen and held it up.

It was security footage of me from the library yesterday. Opening Victor’s briefcase. Taking pictures of the ledger.

“You want to tell me why my housemaid is photographing my uncle’s private files?” Dominic asked softly. “Or should I assume you were working for Vivienne all along?”

My heart stopped. He thought I was the spy.

“I’m not working for her!” I pleaded, stepping back. “Mr. Caruso, you have to listen to me—”

“I listened to you yesterday,” Dominic interrupted, his eyes flashing with a sudden, terrifying anger. “When I asked you if you saw the watch. You lied to me, Lena. Why?”

Before I could answer, the kitchen door swung open.

Victor walked in, dressed in a pristine suit, holding a silver tray with a single, folded piece of paper on it.

“Dominic,” Victor said, feigning deep sorrow. “I didn't want to believe it, but I found this in Lena’s room.”