Chapter 3 - The Morning After
At 8:00 AM, the harsh morning sun woke Ivy.
She sat up quickly, gasping as her cracked ribs reminded her of the brutal encounter from the night before. But as her eyes adjusted, she noticed the throbbing in her face had reduced significantly. The salve Carmine had provided had worked miracles—the swelling around her left eye had subsided enough for her to open it fully.
She looked down at her gray maid's uniform, sitting crumpled at the foot of the bed. It was torn, stained, and ruined.
A gentle knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Ivy froze. "Who is it?"
"It’s Elena, dear," a warm, elderly voice replied through the thick oak. "Mr. Carmine asked me to bring you breakfast and some clothes."
Ivy slid out of bed, unlocked the door, and pulled it open an inch.
Standing in the hallway was Elena, the kindly head housekeeper who had hired Ivy eight months ago. Behind her stood two junior staff members holding several large, elegant garment bags bearing the logos of high-end department stores.
Elena smiled warmly, though her eyes held a deep, empathetic sadness as she took in the fading purple bruises on Ivy's neck.
"May we come in?" Elena asked gently.
Ivy opened the door wide. The staff members placed the garment bags on the bed, set a silver breakfast tray loaded with fresh fruit, pastries, and hot coffee on the table, and quietly exited, bowing their heads respectfully as they left.
"Elena... what is all this?" Ivy asked, overwhelmed.
"Mr. Carmine’s instructions," Elena explained, unzipping one of the garment bags to reveal stunning cashmere sweaters, tailored trousers, and soft silk blouses. "He ordered a complete wardrobe brought in from the city this morning. Your old duties in the kitchen have been permanently reassigned. As of eight o'clock this morning, you are officially Mr. Carmine’s personal administrative attache."
"I don't know anything about administrative work!" Ivy panicked, pacing the room. "I wash dishes! I know how to scrub floors!"
"You know how to keep your mouth shut and stay calm under pressure," Elena corrected her gently, reaching out to take Ivy's cold hands. "In this house, child, those two skills are worth more than a master's degree from Harvard."
Elena leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "Rocco’s car was found burned out in a ditch near the river two hours ago. The underbosses are already whispering. They know Rocco vanished right after doing something foolish. Carmine sent a message to every crew in the city without firing a single shot in public."
Ivy swallowed hard. "A message?"
"That no one touches what belongs to the Don," Elena said firmly. "Now, eat your breakfast, dress yourself in these fine clothes, and head down to the main library on the second floor. Mr. Carmine is waiting for you."
Thirty minutes later, Ivy stood outside the heavy double doors of the mansion's grand library.
She was wearing a soft cream cashmere sweater that covered the bruises on her neck, paired with tailored black trousers and leather flats. Her dark hair was neatly brushed over her shoulders, framing her pale face.
She took a deep breath, knocked once, and pushed the door open.
The library was breathtaking—a two-story cavern of leather-bound books, rolling ladders, and a massive dark oak desk situated before a tall arched window.
Carmine sat behind the desk, dressed in a sharp gray suit, reviewing a stack of legal documents. Beside him stood a man in a sharp black suit with a leather holster visible beneath his jacket—Dominic, Carmine’s right-hand man and chief of security.
Carmine looked up from his papers. His eyes swept over Ivy, assessing her new appearance. A subtle, approving shift softened his harsh features.
"Ivy. Sit," Carmine said, gesturing to the plush leather armchair across from his desk.
Ivy walked over and sat down, her hands resting nervously in her lap.
"Dominic," Carmine said without looking away from her, "leave us."
Dominic bowed his head slightly. "Yes, Boss." He cast a curious, sharp glance at Ivy before stepping out and closing the library doors behind him.
Carmine closed his folder and rested his elbows on the desk, crossing his hands.
"How are your ribs?" he asked softly.
"Better," she replied honestly. "The medicine helped a lot. Thank you."
"The hospital debt your mother left behind," Carmine continued, pulling a crisp white document from a side drawer. "Fifty-two thousand, four hundred dollars owed to the Northside Medical Network. As of 9:00 AM, the debt has been paid in full. The collections agency has closed the account, and a formal receipt of clearance has been issued."
He slid the paper across the polished wood toward her.
Ivy picked up the document with trembling fingers. She read the bold red stamp across the middle: PAID IN FULL.
Tears sprang to her eyes. For two years, that debt had been a suffocating weight around her neck, forcing her to take dangerous, backbreaking work, driving her into the shadows of the underworld just to keep a roof over her head.
"I... I don't know how to repay you," she sobbed softly, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
"You don't repay me," Carmine said firmly. "It is settled."
He stood up from his desk, buttoned his suit jacket, and walked around to stand beside her chair.
"Now," he said, his voice turning crisp and professional. "We have business to attend to. A storm is coming to this city, Ivy. Rocco was the nephew of Sal Moretti."
Ivy looked up, her heart skipping a beat. Even a basement maid knew that name. Sal Moretti was the leader of the rival syndicate controlling the eastern docks—a brutal, old-school mobster who had been looking for an excuse to start a territory war with Carmine for years.
"Moretti knows Rocco is gone," Carmine explained, looking down at her with intense, burning focus. "He will use his nephew's disappearance to demand a sit-down. He will want blood, or he will want territory."
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"What are you going to do?" Ivy asked, fear creeping back into her chest.
"I am going to invite him to dinner here, in this house, three nights from now," Carmine said, a cold, ruthless smile touching his lips. "And you, Ivy, will be sitting right at my side."
