Chapter 5 - The Innocent Spy
The next morning, the mansion was quiet, the power restored by our internal engineering team. I sat in the grand dining room, a space usually reserved for formal dinners with international syndicates, eating a simple breakfast of eggs and toast.
A soft patter of bare feet announced Zoe’s arrival. She stood at the entrance of the dining room, still in her polish-stained pajamas, holding her teddy bear by its ear. She looked overwhelmed by the massive mahogany table and the high ceilings.
"Come in, Zoe," I said, gesturing to the chair beside me.
She walked over slowly, her small fingers touching the velvet upholstery of the chair before she climbed up, her legs dangling far above the floor. "Is Mama better?"
"The doctor gave her some medicine," I said, pushing a plate of fresh fruit and pastries toward her. "She’s sleeping peacefully. Her forehead isn't hot anymore."
Zoe’s face lit up, a brilliant, clean smile breaking through the leftover streaks of black shoe polish on her skin. "I told you the black cream worked! The shoes were pretty, right?"
I looked down at my feet. I had purposefully put on the exact pair of Oxfords she had worked on last night. The leather was unevenly dark, with thick patches of dried polish near the laces and swirl marks near the toe box. To a fashion critic, they were completely ruined. To me, they were the most valuable asset I owned.
"They're the best shoes I've ever worn," I told her seriously.
She beamed, reaching for a strawberry. As she ate, I pulled out a fresh pack of paper and a box of high-quality colored pencils I had ordered my driver to pick up from a twenty-four-hour store at dawn.
"I noticed you like to draw," I said, setting the supplies in front of her. "The drawing you gave me last night... how did you know that man was bad?"
Zoe chewed thoughtfully before answering. "He was talking to another man behind the garage last week. He didn't see me because I was playing with the kittens under the porch. He said the 'Big Boss' was going to get a surprise in New York, and if the surprise didn't work, they'd use the gate key he copied."
She looked up at me with absolute innocence. "He had an ugly face when he said it. Like the monsters in my storybooks. So I drew him with a monster face."
A seven-year-old child had gathered better intelligence than my entire million-dollar counter-espionage team simply because she was quiet, observant, and invisible to the men who thought they ruled the world.
"Zoe," I said, leaning closer. "If I give you a special job, would you do it for me? I need you to be my look-out. If you see anyone else making a 'monster face' around the house, you draw them for me immediately."
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She stood up on her chair, saluting with her strawberry-stained hand. "Yes, Captain Romano!"
I felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth chest—a sensation I hadn't felt since before my father handed me the reins of the family business. This child wasn't just a servant’s daughter anymore; she was under my personal protection. And God help anyone who tried to harm her or her mother.
