Chapter 8 - THE DARK NURSERY AND THE SILVER TRAY
"Vivienne, put the gun down," Luca said.
His voice didn't shake. He didn't raise his hands in surrender. He stepped smoothly in front of me, using his broad shoulders to completely shield my body from the barrel of the suppressed 9mm pistol.
"Oh, how heroic," Vivienne mocked, stepping out of the nursery doorway into the pitch-black hallway, the flashlight beam glinting off the metal silencer in her hand. "The great Luca Moretti, protecting the help. It’s pathetic. You were always so weak when it came to stray dogs. First Elena, now this maid."
"Where are Lucy and Ruth?" Luca demanded, his voice a low, lethal rumble.
"Locked in the pantry," Vivienne smirked, advancing slowly down the hall toward us. "The old bat actually thought a stainless-steel door could stop me. I smashed the kitchen window with a brick, locked them in the pantry, and took all the time in the world to find you."
My heart pounded furiously against my ribs. I peered over Luca’s shoulder into the oppressive darkness of the corridor. We were standing in the grand foyer, surrounded by priceless art and marble floors, completely trapped. If we ran for the front doors, she would shoot us in the back.
"You aren't going to shoot me, Vivienne," Luca said calmly, keeping the flashlight beam directly in her eyes to blind her. "If you kill me, the police will run a full forensic investigation. They’ll find out Arthur bypassed the security system. They’ll find the gunshot residue on your hands."
"I’m wearing gloves, darling," Vivienne smiled coldly, raising her left hand to show a tight, black leather driving glove. "And Arthur’s hackers scrubbed the smart-home servers five minutes ago. There is no digital record of me entering this house. The police will find your fingerprints on this gun, right next to your tragic, forged suicide note apologizing for your bankruptcy."
She took another step closer. She was twenty feet away. Then fifteen.
"Now," Vivienne snapped, all traces of amusement vanishing from her face. "Hand over the diary, Luca. And toss me that flashlight. I don't want to shoot you in the face and ruin the open-casket funeral."
Luca didn't move. He stood like a stone wall, his mind clearly racing for a tactical advantage in the dark.
But I wasn't a CEO. I was a maid. I knew every square inch of this house in the dark because I was the one who cleaned it. I knew exactly what was resting on the marble pedestal three feet to my right.
It was the heavy, solid-silver tea service tray that Vivienne had demanded I leave in the foyer earlier that evening for the departing guests. It weighed nearly fifteen pounds, loaded with silver teapots and crystal sugar bowls.
I didn't wait for Luca to negotiate with a murderer.
I reached out blindly in the dark, grabbed the heavy silver handles of the tray, and hoisted the entire fifteen-pound metal platter off the pedestal.
"Hey, Vivienne!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Vivienne flinched, instinctively shifting her aim slightly toward the sound of my voice behind Luca.
In that split second of distraction, I stepped out from behind Luca and hurled the massive silver tray through the air with every ounce of adrenaline in my body, straight at her head like a spinning metal frisbee.
CRASH!
The heavy silver tray slammed brutally into Vivienne’s chest and face, shattering the crystal bowls and sending silver teapots flying.
Vivienne shrieked in pain and surprise as the heavy metal knocked her backward onto the slippery marble floor.
The suppressed pistol fired wildly into the ceiling with a muffled phut!, showering us with plaster dust.
"Now!" Luca roared.
He didn't run away. He lunged forward into the darkness, tackling Vivienne to the floor before she could recover and aim the weapon again.
I heard the sickening crunch of bone as Luca drove his knee into her wrist. Vivienne screamed, a feral, agonizing sound, and the heavy black pistol skittered across the marble floor, sliding into the darkness under a credenza.
"Get off me!" Vivienne shrieked, thrashing wildly under Luca’s crushing weight, clawing at his face with her free hand.
Suddenly, the grand foyer was bathed in blinding, brilliant white light.
The heavy crystal chandeliers above us flared to life, illuminating the chaotic scene on the marble floor.
I whipped around, shielding my eyes from the sudden brightness.
Standing by the main electrical panel in the hallway, holding a heavy iron fire poker and breathing hard, was Ruth.
Behind her, peeking out from the safety of the kitchen doors, was Lucy.
"She locked us in the pantry, Mr. Moretti," Ruth said, her voice shaking with adrenaline as she glared down at Vivienne struggling on the floor. "But she forgot that the pantry has a dumbwaiter shaft that goes up to the second floor. I sent Lucy up the shaft, and she unlocked the door for me. I just manually bypassed the cut street line and kicked on the backup diesel generator."
Luca pinned Vivienne’s arms securely behind her back, pressing his knee firmly between her shoulder blades to hold her down. He looked up at Ruth, then at Lucy, and finally at me, a fierce, triumphant grin breaking across his bruised face.
"Call the police, Ruth," Luca ordered, hauling Vivienne roughly to her feet by her ruined red silk gown, ignoring her vicious cursing. "Tell them we have a home intruder armed with an illegal suppressed weapon."
"You idiots!" Vivienne spat blood onto the marble floor, laughing hysterically even as Luca pinned her against the wall. "Go ahead! Arrest me! I don't care! It’s 4:00 A.M.! While you were busy playing hero in the dark, Arthur Vance took his private jet to Chicago! He’s sitting outside First Republic Bank right now with a team of lawyers and a forged federal subpoena! The minute that vault opens at 9:00 A.M., he’s destroying the original trust ledger!"
My stomach plummeted.
She was right. Arresting Vivienne for breaking and entering wouldn't save the company or Lucy’s future. If Arthur destroyed the ledger, he would still win in family court.
"He has the silver key," I whispered, panic seizing my chest again. "Arthur has the key! Even if we get to the bank by 9:00 A.M., we can't open Box 412!"
Luca looked at Vivienne laughing in his grip. He didn't panic. The cold, calculating CEO returned, sharper and deadlier than before.
"Arthur thinks he has the key," Luca said quietly, looking directly at me with a steady, unshakeable confidence. "Claire, go up to my study. In the top right drawer of my desk is a black leather travel case. Bring it to me."
"What's in it?" Vivienne sneered, her laugh faltering.
May you like
Luca leaned in close to her ear.
"The reason I run this company, and Arthur doesn't," Luca whispered.
