Chapter 3 - The Price of Being Found
By sunset, Marcus had three security teams watching Veronica's apartment.
She hated every one of them.
"No."
Marcus stood in her tiny living room, looking painfully out of place beside Amelia's construction-paper artwork and a couch Veronica had bought secondhand.
"That wasn't a request."
"And this isn't your house."
"Someone photographed us."
"Then deal with whoever photographed us."
"I am."
"Without turning my home into a military checkpoint."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
Amelia sat at the kitchen table pretending to do math homework while very obviously listening.
Marcus noticed.
"Can we discuss this somewhere else?"
Veronica folded her arms.
"Now you care what she hears?"
That landed.
His expression hardened.
"You're right."
She had expected an argument.
The immediate admission disarmed her.
Marcus walked toward the kitchen.
"Amelia?"
She looked up innocently.
"Yes?"
"Your mother and I need to have an adult conversation."
"I understand adult conversations."
"I've noticed."
"Is it about bad people?"
Veronica stiffened.
Marcus answered carefully.
"It's about making sure you and your mother are safe."
"Are we not safe?"
Marcus glanced at Veronica.
"We're making sure you stay safe."
Amelia considered that and returned to her worksheet.
Marcus lowered his voice.
"Kitchen. Now."
Veronica followed him.
"Who photographed us?"
"I don't know."
"That's comforting."
"The car was registered to a shell company."
"What does that mean?"
"It means whoever followed me expected us to investigate."
A cold feeling spread through her.
"Giovanni?"
"Possibly."
"Why would he care about Amelia?"
Marcus did not answer.
Veronica understood.
"Because she's yours."
"Yes."
The word changed the room.
For six years, Amelia had belonged entirely to Veronica's world.
Now a fact of biology had connected her to Marcus's.
And Marcus's world had enemies.
Veronica gripped the counter.
"This is exactly why I didn't tell you."
Marcus's expression sharpened.
"You don't get to use danger created today to justify six years."
"I knew what you were."
"You knew what people said I was."
"I worked in your house."
"And yet you stayed."
Her eyes flashed.
"I needed money."
"That's not why."
Silence.
They both remembered.
One night.
One mistake, Veronica had called it afterward.
Except neither had ever truly believed that.
It had happened after Marcus returned injured from something Veronica was smart enough not to ask about. She had found him alone in the kitchen trying unsuccessfully to bandage his shoulder.
She helped.
They talked.
For the first time, Marcus had stopped being Mr. Duca.
For one night, Veronica had stopped being the maid.
By sunrise they both knew it could never happen again.
Eight weeks later, she was fired.
"You should've told me," Marcus said.
"You should've believed me."
He had no answer.
A knock interrupted them.
Raymond entered.
"We found the photographer."
Marcus turned.
"Alive?"
Veronica stared at him.
Raymond looked briefly uncomfortable.
"Yes."
"Marcus."
He ignored her.
"Who hired him?"
"He doesn't know. Everything was handled through encrypted messages."
"Payment?"
"Cash."
"Anything useful?"
Raymond handed him a phone.
"A message arrived after he took the photograph."
Marcus read it.
His expression changed.
Veronica took the phone from him.
The message contained six words.
The girl belongs to the Ducas.
Veronica's blood ran cold.
"No."
Marcus reached for the phone.
She held it away.
"No one owns my daughter."
"That's not what it means."
"I know exactly what it means."
Marcus looked at Raymond.
"Double security."
"No."
"Veronica—"
"No."
She walked into the living room.
Amelia looked up.
"We're packing."
"For where?"
"I don't know yet."
Marcus followed.
"You're not running."
She spun around.
"Watch me."
"If Giovanni knows about her, disappearing won't work."
"It worked for six years."
"Because nobody was looking."
The truth stopped her.
Marcus softened his voice.
"Come to the estate."
Veronica actually laughed.
"The house where you fired me?"
"It's secure."
"The house where your brother framed me?"
"He's gone."
"The house full of armed men?"
"Men who answer to me."
"Exactly."
Amelia raised her hand.
Both adults turned.
"What?"
"If you're fighting about me, I should get a vote."
Veronica closed her eyes.
Marcus looked almost impressed.
"What would you vote for?" he asked.
"First, I want pizza."
Marcus blinked.
"That isn't one of the choices."
"It should be."
Veronica covered her mouth.
Amelia continued.
"Second, if somebody bad knows where we live, staying here sounds dumb."
"Amelia."
"I'm six, not stupid."
Marcus looked away to hide something dangerously close to a smile.
Veronica pointed at him.
"Don't encourage her."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
Amelia sighed dramatically.
"Can we get pepperoni?"
Two hours later, Veronica found herself driving through the gates of the Duca estate.
The same gates she had walked through six years earlier with one suitcase and a secret.
Amelia pressed her face to the window.
"You lived here?"
"I worked here."
"It's huge."
"Yes."
"Does Marcus live here alone?"
Marcus, sitting in the front passenger seat because Veronica had refused to let him drive, answered.
"Mostly."
"That's weird."
"Amelia."
"What? It is."
Marcus glanced back.
"I'm beginning to understand why your mother looks tired."
Amelia smiled.
Veronica did not.
But Marcus saw the corner of her mouth move.
Inside the mansion, memories attacked from every direction.
The staircase.
The marble.
The smell of cedar and polished wood.
Marcus noticed her hesitation.
"You can have the west wing."
"I need one room."
"You have a child."
"Children also sleep in one room."
Amelia whispered loudly, "I'd like the west wing."
Veronica stared at her.
"What?"
"It sounds fancy."
Raymond appeared.
His expression erased the humor.
"Marcus."
"What?"
"We checked the security archive from six years ago."
Marcus became still.
"And?"
"The camera outside your office didn't malfunction the night the money disappeared."
Veronica's stomach dropped.
Marcus turned slowly.
"What are you saying?"
"Someone deleted the footage."
"Giovanni?"
Raymond shook his head.
"The access credentials weren't his."
"Whose?"
Raymond looked directly at Marcus.
"Mine."
Silence.
Marcus stared.
Raymond continued before Marcus could speak.
"I didn't delete it."
"Then someone used your credentials."
"Yes."
"Who had them?"
"Only three people."
Marcus already knew.
Himself.
Raymond.
And Marcus's late father, Vittorio Duca.
But Vittorio had supposedly been bedridden that year.
Veronica watched Marcus's face.
"What?"
Marcus did not answer.
Raymond did.
"Your firing wasn't a spontaneous decision."
Veronica felt suddenly cold.
"What does that mean?"
Raymond held up an old digital log.
"Someone prepared your resignation document fourteen hours before the money was reported missing."
Marcus's eyes darkened.
Veronica stared at him.
"You said Raymond put that paper in front of me because you believed I'd stolen from you."
"I did."
"Then who prepared it?"
Marcus looked toward the staircase.
For the first time, the house he had controlled for decades felt unfamiliar.
"Someone who wanted Veronica gone before anyone knew she was pregnant."
Veronica's face drained of color.
"I hadn't told anyone."
Marcus turned toward her.
"Maybe you didn't have to."
Upstairs, Amelia screamed.
Every adult in the room ran.
They found her standing inside the guest bedroom.
Unhurt.
Terrified.
She pointed toward the bed.
A small white box rested on the pillow.
Marcus opened it.
Inside was a silver baby bracelet.
Engraved across the front were two words.
AMELIA DUCA.
May you like
And beneath it lay a note.
Ask her what really happened the night she conceived your daughter.
