Chapter 2 - THE TASTE OF FEAR
Ranata gripped the broken golden clock against her chest like a shield, her knuckles turning chalk-white under Lorenzo’s gaze.
“I... I found it in Clara’s locker, Don Lorenzo,” Ranata stammered, her voice cracking slightly under the oppressive silence of the hall. “I was doing a routine inspection of the staff quarters, and—”
“You lie,” a tiny voice whispered from behind Clara’s shoulder.
Mia peeped out from her mother’s coat, pointing a small, trembling finger directly at the head housekeeper.
“She put the pretty gold clock in Mommy’s bag,” Mia said, her voice small but echoing clearly through the quiet room. “I saw her from behind the curtain. She said if I told Mommy, she would lock me in the dark room with the rats.”
A collective gasp rippled through the junior housecleaning staff standing near the kitchen entrance.
Clara’s eyes flared with a mother’s sudden, protective rage. She looked up at Ranata, her hands gripping Mia’s small shoulders. “You threatened my daughter? You put that clock in my locker to frame me? Why?!”
Ranata’s face went from pale to a mottled, ugly red. “She’s lying! A three-year-old child’s word against mine?! Don Silvio, you know my loyalty to your family! I was hired by your late sister!”
Don Silvio stepped forward, his expression hardened into an arrogant sneer. “Lorenzo, this is ridiculous. Are we truly stopping a multimillion-dollar merger discussion over a maid and her bastard child’s story? Dismiss the girl, hand her to the police, and let us return to the study to sign the marriage contract with my daughter, Bianca.”
Lorenzo didn't look at Silvio. He didn't even blink.
He simply snapped his fingers once.
Pino moved like a shadow.
Before Ranata could utter a scream, the massive Doberman lunged forward, his iron jaws clamping firmly around Ranata’s wrist—not breaking the bone, but exerting just enough crushing pressure to force her fingers open.
The lapis lazuli clock fell from her grip, shattering into a dozen pieces on the hard marble floor.
Ranata shrieked in terror, dropping to her knees as Pino stood over her, his deep, rumbling growl vibrating through her chest, his teeth inches from her throat.
“Pino, stay,” Lorenzo commanded quietly.
The dog froze, holding the weeping housekeeper pinned to the floor with his weight alone.
Lorenzo walked over, stepping calmly over the shattered gold pieces. He looked down at Ranata with eyes that held less warmth than winter frost.
“You have served this estate for twenty years,” Lorenzo said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “And in those twenty years, you forgot whose house this is. You thought because Don Silvio’s family frequented these halls, his protection extended to your spiteful cruelty.”
“Don Lorenzo, please!” Ranata wept, her hands shaking as she pressed her face against the cold floor. “I... I was paid! I was told to get rid of her!”
The room went dead quiet.
Lorenzo’s eyes flicked slowly toward Don Silvio.
Silvio’s jaw twitched, his posture stiffening as a cold bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “She’s mad! She’s trying to shift blame!”
“Who paid you, Ranata?” Lorenzo asked, ignoring Silvio’s outburst.
Ranata raised a trembling finger, pointing directly at Silvio’s personal assistant standing by the fireplace. “He did! Three days ago! He gave me ten thousand euros to ensure Clara was arrested for grand theft before the marriage contract was finalized!”
Lorenzo closed his eyes for a single second, taking a deep, slow breath. When he opened them, the cold calculation in his mind had reached its final verdict.
“Marco,” Lorenzo called out.
His chief lieutenant, a scarred veteran who had served Lorenzo’s father, stepped out from the shadow of the archway. “Yes, Boss?”
“Remove Ranata from the property,” Lorenzo ordered. “She has one hour to leave the province. If she ever steps foot in the northern territory again, feed her to the hounds.”
“And Don Silvio’s assistant?” Marco asked, stepping toward the nervous man by the fireplace.
May you like
Lorenzo turned his back on them, walking back toward Clara and Mia.
“Put him in the basement,” Lorenzo said casually, as if ordering a cup of espresso. “We will discuss his employer’s debts later tonight.”
