Chapter 3 - THE STRATAGEM OF SPILLED BLOOD
For two days, I was kept locked in the pitch-black darkness of the linen room.
The pain in my leg was an unyielding monster. I managed to tear strips from the spare bedsheets stored on the shelves and tie them tightly around my upper thigh to create a crude tourniquet, stopping the worst of the bleeding. But infection was setting in. Fever raged through my body, making me shiver violently on the cold floor.
Every hour that passed was a agonizing countdown to Lily’s birthday.
Vanessa had threatened my mother’s life. I knew she had the power and the connections to execute that threat. If I went to Luca directly, if I tried to tell him the truth, Vanessa and Michael would claim I was lying, or worse—Michael’s contacts outside would pull the plug on my mother before Luca could verify my story. I was just a maid. Luca had no reason to trust my word over the word of his legal fiancée and his own blood brother.
I needed proof. Irrefutable, indisputable proof that Luca could see with his own eyes in front of witnesses so powerful that even Michael couldn't cover it up.
On the evening of the party, the door finally unlocked.
Mrs. Carter, the elderly head housekeeper who had worked for the Moretti family for thirty years, slipped inside holding a small tray of bread and water. She gasped when she saw me curled up in the corner, pale and shivering.
“Oh, child!” Mrs. Carter whispered, dropping to her knees. “What happened to you? Miss Bellini said you caught a violent stomach bug and ordered you quarantined!”
“Mrs. Carter…” I gasped, clutching her arm with weak, trembling fingers. “You have to help me… Lily… they’re going to take Lily…”
“What are you talking about, dear? You’re burning up with fever!”
“Listen to me!” I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the agonizing pulse in my leg. “The big portrait… the birthday portrait… did they move it into the ballroom yet?”
Mrs. Carter nodded slowly, looking confused. “Yes, child. It was just mounted on the main stage beside the cake. The guests are arriving now.”
My heart stopped. The party had begun. The transport vehicle was likely already positioning itself near the perimeter gates.
“Mrs. Carter, please,” I sobbed. “Help me stand.”
“Hannah, you’re badly hurt! Look at your leg—there’s dried blood everywhere! I need to call the doctor!”
“There’s no time!” I grabbed her shoulders, looking into her kind eyes with absolute desperation. “If I don't get into that ballroom right now, Lily will be taken away forever. Luca will lose his daughter. Please, Mrs. Carter. Trust me.”
Mrs. Carter searched my face for a long moment. She had known Luca since he was a boy; she loved little Lily like her own grandchild. She saw the absolute truth in my panicked eyes.
“Alright,” Mrs. Carter whispered, her jaw setting into a firm line. “I won't ask questions. But you can barely walk.”
“I just need to get to the kitchen,” I gritted out through my teeth.
With Mrs. Carter’s help, I dragged myself out of the closet. Every movement felt like a hot blade twisting in my thigh. We slipped through the service corridors, avoiding the security guards patrolling the main hallways.
When we reached the back preparation kitchen, the staff was frantically putting the finishing touches on the appetizers. No one noticed as I reached out and snatched a heavy eight-inch chef's knife from the magnetic rack above the prep station.
“Hannah!” Mrs. Carter gasped, horrified. “What are you doing with that?”
“The documents are sealed inside the portrait frame,” I said, my voice cold and focused despite the fever raging in my brain. “Luca will never believe me if I just tell him. Vanessa signed it with his forged signature. If I attack the frame, if I destroy the picture, Luca will have to open it. He will have to look inside.”
“They will kill you!” Mrs. Carter cried out, grabbing my wrist. “The security guards will shoot you before you even touch the wood!”
“Then I’ll die protecting that little girl,” I said quietly. “She doesn't deserve to lose her home.”
I yanked my arm free, gathered every ounce of strength remaining in my failing body, and burst through the double swinging doors into the grand ballroom.
The rest was a blur of noise and terror.
The bright light of the chandeliers blinded me. The gasps of thirty-six wealthy Syndicate members pierced my ears. The blood poured out of my leg anew as the crude bandage tore open under the strain of my sprint.
“PUT THAT KNIFE DOWN, YOU CRAZY MAID!”
Luca’s roar had cut through the air, but I had already committed to my path. I had swung the heavy steel blade into the glass, destroying the picture of the innocent little girl, screaming through the pain as the shards slashed my hands.
And now, here we were.
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The portrait lay in ruins. The Manila envelope was open.
And Luca Moretti was standing over his terrified fiancée and traitorous brother, holding the evidence of their ultimate betrayal in his bare hands.
