Chapter 5 - The First Inspection
The following morning, the morning sun poured through the high arched windows of Villa Moretti, casting long golden beams across the polished marble floors. The air smelled of fresh lavender polish and roasted espresso.
I stood in the center of the grand foyer, wearing a crisp, charcoal-gray tailored manager’s suit that Alessandro had had custom-delivered to my apartment at six o’clock that morning, along with a secure keycard and a sleek encrypted communication device.
Emma was currently upstairs in the east wing, being looked after by a trusted elderly nanny named Maria, eating fresh pastries and playing in a playroom bigger than our entire former apartment.
“You look the part,” a deep voice rumbled from the grand staircase.
I turned to see Alessandro descending the steps. He wore a dark tailored suit with an open-collared white shirt, looking every bit the ruthless syndicate boss, yet carrying an air of quiet accessibility that hadn't been there the night before.
“It fits,” I said, smoothing the lapel of my jacket. “Though I feel like I’m wearing armor.”
“In this house, Mrs. Bennett, you are,” Alessandro replied, stopping a few steps above me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy silver signet ring bearing the Moretti crest—a coiled viper framing a silver dagger. He held it out to me. “A badge of office. Anyone on the domestic staff who gives you trouble... show them this, and they will answer to Mateo.”
I hesitated, then took the ring. It was cold, heavy, and carried an immense weight of authority. I slipped it onto my right index finger, where it fit snugly.
“Where do we begin?” I asked, slipping into professional mode.
“The staff quarters in the west wing,” Alessandro said, stepping down to the ground floor. “Every morning at eight o’clock, the senior staff—the chef, the head butler, the laundry supervisor, and the estate accountant—gather for a morning briefing. It’s time you met your team. And time we started looking for ghosts.”
As we walked down the long, vaulted corridor toward the service wing, the heavy oak double doors of the staff dining hall opened. Four individuals stood waiting:
There was Chef Bernardo, a burly, hot-tempered Sicilian with flour dusting his apron; Mrs. Gable, an austere, silver-haired British woman who had managed the estate’s linens for thirty years; Viktor, the stoic head butler with posture like a steel rod; and finally, Luciano, the slick, oily estate accountant whose sharp eyes darted nervously the moment he saw me standing beside Alessandro.
Alessandro stepped into the room, his mere presence commanding instant, rigid silence.
“Listen closely,” Alessandro’s voice echoed off the tile walls. “Starting today, Mrs. Bennett is the new Head of Domestic Operations. She holds full executive authority over every department in this house. Her word is my word.”
A collective wave of shock rippled through the four staff members. Mrs. Gable raised an eyebrow in open disdain, while Chef Bernardo crossed his arms, muttering something in Sicilian dialect about “outsiders.”
But Luciano... Luciano’s face turned slightly pale, and his hand twitched instinctively toward his breast pocket—right where a leather ledger was tucked.
I caught the movement instantly. My legal secretary training from years ago had taught me to read micro-expressions and physical tics.
May you like
He’s hiding something, my mind whispered.
“Good morning, everyone,” I said, stepping forward with calm, absolute confidence, letting the heavy silver signet ring catch the morning light. “I look forward to working with all of you. And I suggest we start by reviewing the payroll and logistics logs from the past six months. All of them.”
