Chapter 7 - The Missing ButtonVincent’s voice returned through the intercom ten minutes later.
“Sophia Carter.”
Not Sophia.
Not Mrs. Carter.
My full name.
Emma pressed both hands over her ears.
The voice echoed from the ceiling speakers in every wall of the mansion, reaching kitchens, halls, bedrooms, cellars, and secret rooms that Vincent should not have known existed.
“Sophia Carter, bring me what you took.”
Rosa muttered, “May his tongue rot.”
Vincent continued.
“You have five minutes. If you do not come to the main hall, I will begin questioning the staff one by one.”
My stomach turned.
The intercom clicked.
Silence followed.
Then, faintly above us, a scream.
Not Emma.
Not mine.
Someone upstairs.
Maria.
I knew her voice.
I moved toward the door.
Marco caught my arm. “No.”
“That was Maria.”
“That is what he wants.”
“He’ll hurt her.”
Marco’s face was hard. “Yes.”
I stared at him in horror.
Lorenzo’s voice cut through the room. “Vincent will hurt her whether Sophia goes or not.”
Marco turned. “You cannot be considering this.”
“I am considering every piece on the board.”
“She is not a piece,” I snapped.
Lorenzo looked at me. “Neither is Maria.”
That stopped me.
Another cry came from above.
Shorter.
Muffled.
Emma sobbed.
I looked at the hamper.
The memory card lay hidden beneath filthy cloths, carrying the voices of the men who killed Lorenzo’s brother and my husband. Maybe it could destroy Vincent. Maybe it could expose Greco. Maybe it could explain years of buried blood.
But right now Maria was upstairs paying for my silence.
I reached into the hamper.
Lorenzo moved fast for an injured man. His hand closed over mine.
“No.”
I tried to pull away.
He held firm.
“Sophia,” he said, low enough that only I heard, “if you give him that card, Maria dies anyway. Then Rosa. Then Ricci. Then Marco. Then you. Then Emma.”
My vision blurred.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Vincent.”
Above us, something crashed.
Lorenzo’s grip tightened.
“He is not punishing Maria to get the card,” he said. “He is punishing you to make you forget what the card is for.”
I hated that he was right.
I hated him for being calm.
I hated myself for needing his calm.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
His eyes moved to Marco.
“We let him think he won.”
Marco’s expression changed.
“No,” Ricci said immediately. “Absolutely not.”
Lorenzo ignored him. “He wants the watch. He does not know the card has been removed.”
Marco nodded slowly. “We give him the empty watch.”
“And Sophia?” Ricci demanded.
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. “She delivers it.”
“No,” Marco and Ricci said together.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
All three men looked at me.
Fear still shook through me, but beneath it something else had formed. Not bravery. Not exactly.
Rage with a spine.
Vincent had killed Matteo and let me scrub floors in the house where his murderer drank espresso. He had threatened my daughter. He had tied Lorenzo to a chair and left him bleeding beneath the rooms where everyone believed he ruled.
He wanted me frightened.
Good.
I knew how to look frightened.
I had practiced for seven years.
“What do I say?” I asked.
Lorenzo studied me for a long moment.
Then he reached into his pocket and removed the broken watch casing.
Ricci must have given it back to him after opening it.
Lorenzo held it out.
“You say you found it near the cellar door after Emma dropped it. You say you were scared. You say nothing else.”
“What if he opens it?”
“He will.”
“And when it’s empty?”
“Then you cry.”
I stared at him.
“Cry?”
“Men like Vincent believe tears prove weakness. Give him weakness. He will stop looking for strength.”
Rosa grunted. “That is unfortunately true.”
Marco gave me a tiny earpiece no larger than a grain of rice. “Put this in. We will hear everything.”
I slipped it into my ear with trembling fingers.
Lorenzo leaned closer. “Do not challenge him. Do not accuse him. Do not mention the button. Do not mention Matteo.”
At my husband’s name, my throat closed.
Lorenzo’s voice softened. “Not yet.”
I looked toward Emma.
Rosa held her tightly.
“Mama come back?” Emma asked.
I crossed to her and kissed her forehead.
“Always.”
That was a dangerous promise.
I made it anyway.
The walk to the main hall felt endless.
The mansion had changed. Lights flickered. Security shutters covered some windows. Two guards stood near the west corridor with guns visible beneath their jackets. A vase lay shattered near the staircase. Somewhere, someone was crying quietly.
When I entered the main hall, I saw Maria on her knees.
A bruise already darkened one cheek.
My heart lurched.
Vincent stood beside her, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder as if they were posing for a family portrait.
Salvatore Greco sat in a leather chair near the fireplace, watching with mild interest.
Several staff members stood along the wall. Terrified. Silent.
Vincent smiled when he saw me.
“Sophia.”
I lowered my eyes and held out the broken watch.
His hand did not reach for it immediately.
He wanted me to walk to him.
So I did.
Each step sounded too loud against the marble floor.
When I stopped in front of him, he looked at my face.
I made myself shake.
It was not difficult.
“Where did you find it?” he asked.
“By the cellar door.”
“Why did you take it?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
I swallowed. “You.”
A dangerous flicker moved through his eyes.
Then he laughed softly.
Honesty, used carefully, could be mistaken for surrender.
He took the watch.
His thumb moved over the broken back.
My pulse pounded so hard I worried the earpiece would shake loose.
Vincent opened the hidden compartment.
Empty.
For one second, his expression did not change.
Then his gaze lifted to mine.
The room held its breath.
I thought of Lorenzo’s instruction.
Then you cry.
So I did.
Tears spilled down my cheeks. Not fake. Not forced. I had plenty stored. I let them come.
“I don’t know what you want,” I whispered. “Please. I only want my daughter.”
Vincent stared at me.
Searching.
Weighing.
Maria sobbed quietly at his feet.
Then Greco spoke.
“She is a maid, Romano.”
Vincent did not look away from me.
Greco continued, bored. “You are frightening laundry women and mothers while the man who actually betrayed you may be escaping.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
He hated being corrected.
He hated even more that Greco was right.
Finally, Vincent stepped closer and lifted my chin with two fingers.
“This house teaches servants to see nothing,” he said softly. “Did you forget your training?”
I whispered, “No, sir.”
“Good.”
He released me.
Then he turned and struck Maria across the face with the back of his hand.
She fell sideways.
I cried out before I could stop myself.
Vincent looked back at me.
“Take her,” he said. “Clean her up.”
I rushed to Maria and helped her stand.
She leaned heavily against me.
As we moved toward the servants’ corridor, Vincent called after us.
“Sophia?”
I stopped.
He held up the empty watch.
“If your daughter remembers anything else she saw tonight, bring her to me.”
Maria trembled beside me.
I forced myself to nod.
“Yes, sir.”
We entered the corridor.
The second we turned the corner, Maria whispered through swollen lips, “I know where he put the real key.”
I nearly stopped walking.
“What key?”
Her eyes were glassy with pain.
“The key to Lorenzo’s office safe.”
May you like
Then she said the words that changed everything.
“Vincent didn’t steal it tonight. He stole it from Matteo before your husband died.”
Related Stories
