As we race away in the car, a storm of anger and fear swells inside me. How could she be so reckless? How could she risk everything like that?
When the empty road stretches before us, I slam on the brakes, my heart pounding in my chest. I throw the...
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The late evening sun cast long shadows across the floor of my bedroom, a faint orange glow barely illuminating the space. I sat on the edge of my bed, my heart racing as I typed a quick message to Gabriel on the burner phone. We were making progress, the plan was coming together, and soon this nightmare would be over. I hit send and tucked the phone back into its hiding place under the loose floorboard near the wardrobe.
It had been risky from the start—keeping a burner phone hidden in my room, texting Gabriel in secret—but there was no other way. My every move was watched, my every action questioned. I couldn’t afford to slip up, not when the stakes were this high. But tonight, something was off. I could feel it in the air, the tension that seemed to cling to the walls like an impending storm.
A sharp knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts.
"Chiara," my mother’s voice called from the other side, firm and impatient. "Open the door."
Panic shot through me. Why now? What did she want? I quickly kicked the floorboard back into place and tried to steady my breathing. When I opened the door, my mother, Isabelle, stood there, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the room.
"What were you doing?" she asked, her tone accusatory. She stepped inside without waiting for an answer, her eyes scanning the room with the precision of a hawk.
I forced a calm smile. "Nothing, Mother. Just… thinking."
But I could see it in her eyes—the suspicion. Something had triggered her, and I didn’t know what. She turned, her gaze lingering on my bed, my desk, the wardrobe. Her eyes darted to the floor, where I had hastily replaced the board.
"Thinking?" she repeated, her voice cold and dripping with doubt. She crossed the room in a few quick strides, her heel catching the edge of the floorboard. It lifted ever so slightly, just enough for her to notice.
I felt my blood run cold.
"What is this?" Isabelle’s voice was sharp as she knelt down and pried the floorboard loose. My stomach dropped when she pulled out the burner phone, holding it up like it was a weapon. Her eyes blazed with fury.
"Who gave you this?" she demanded, standing up and turning on me. The intensity in her gaze made my breath hitch. "You’ve been in contact with someone—who is it?"
I couldn’t think fast enough. My mind spun as I tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing came out.
"I—"
Before I could finish, Isabelle stormed out of the room, dragging Sofia—who had just entered—along with her. "You knew about this, didn’t you?" my mother spat, her grip on Sofia’s arm tightening. The poor maid gasped, her face paling.
"Mother, stop! Sofia has nothing to do with this!" I protested, following them down the stairs as Isabelle dragged Sofia into the living room. The chaos was unfolding too quickly for me to grasp control.
Sofia’s terrified eyes met mine, and I felt a surge of guilt. She’d been risking her life to help Gabriel and me. I couldn’t let her take the fall for this.
"Please, she didn’t know about the phone. I was the one—" I tried to explain, but my mother wasn’t listening. She threw Sofia toward the center of the room, where my father, Marco, was sitting. His face twisted into a frown as he looked between us, trying to understand the situation.
"Do you know what your daughter’s been up to?" Isabelle hissed at Marco, waving the burner phone in front of him. "She’s been lying to us, sneaking behind our backs. And this maid—this girl—has been helping her."
"That’s not true!" I shouted, stepping between them. "Sofia has nothing to do with this, I swear."
The tension in the room was thick, the air almost suffocating. Marco’s eyes darkened as he stood, towering over Sofia and me. "Isabelle, calm down. We’ll deal with this."
But before my mother could respond, Gio burst into the room, his face twisted in annoyance.
"Marco, we’ve got a problem," he said, looking directly at Marco. His expression was a mix of urgency and disdain. "One of our men spotted something suspicious near the old cottage up the hill. The place has been abandoned for years, but now it looks like someone’s using it."
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced my face to remain neutral, even as fear gripped me. The cottage. Gabriel, Matteo, and Antonio. Were they in danger? I couldn’t let my panic show, couldn’t let anyone suspect what that information meant to me.
Marco frowned deeply, his eyes shifting between Gio and me, sensing the change in the atmosphere. Isabelle’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, locking onto me.
"Did they find anything?" Marco asked, his voice tight.
"Not yet," Gio replied, glancing at me as if he were trying to piece something together. "But the guards will investigate soon. Whoever’s there, we’ll find them."
My pulse raced. I couldn’t let them discover Gabriel. My mind scrambled for a way out of this situation, but there were too many variables, too many eyes on me. I had to stay calm.
"Let me see that," Gio said, reaching for the burner phone in Isabelle’s hand, his eyes gleaming with interest. "This could be the key to finding out who’s been meddling."
Just as he was about to grab it, a deafening bang echoed through the estate. The sound was so sudden and violent that it startled everyone in the room. Marco jumped, immediately barking orders to the guards stationed nearby.
"Check the perimeter!" he shouted, and within seconds, men scrambled toward the source of the noise.
I seized the opportunity, my mind working quickly. As the guards rushed outside, I slipped toward Sofia, grabbing her arm. "Come with me," I whispered urgently.
"But—"
"Now," I insisted.
With all eyes on the chaos outside, we slipped out of the living room and into the hallway. My heart pounded in my chest, but I knew this was our only chance. If we stayed, they’d eventually force the truth out of me, and everything would fall apart.
Sofia and I moved quickly, our footsteps barely making a sound as we navigated through the mansion’s maze-like corridors. My mind raced with panic, but I forced myself to focus on the one goal that mattered: getting us out of here.
We ducked into a side passage, hidden behind a large tapestry, and I paused, listening for any signs of pursuit. When it was clear, I turned to Sofia, who was still shaking from the confrontation.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice low.
She nodded, though her eyes were filled with fear. "Yes, but… Chiara, what are we going to do? If they find out—"
"They won’t," I said firmly, though I wasn’t entirely sure. "We’ll figure this out. I won’t let them hurt you, Sofia. You’ve done too much for me already."
She gave me a weak smile, but I could see the gratitude in her eyes. We stayed there, hidden in the shadows for a moment, as the sounds of shouting and guards running echoed from outside. Whatever had caused the bang, it had bought us some time.
