Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN NOBODY WAS SUPPOSED TO NOTICE
Lorenzo moved quickly.
“Marco, seal the north entrance. Nobody approaches the kitchen without my authorization.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at Lily.
“Go with Dr. Bennett. She'll take you to the guest suite in the east wing. There's a private bathroom, a separate entrance, and a security detail outside.”
“I don't want to hide.”
“Then don't think of it as hiding. Think of it as having a room where Vincent can't reach you.”
Lily's jaw tightened.
“And what happens when he asks why I'm suddenly being treated like a member of the family?”
“He'll ask me.”
“And you'll tell him the truth?”
“I'll tell him enough.”
Lily shook her head.
“You keep deciding what everyone else gets to know.”
Lorenzo stopped.
He looked at her for a long moment, then handed her his phone.
“Call Marco yourself. Tell him where you want to go and what you need. He'll follow your instructions unless there's an immediate threat to your safety.”
It was a small concession.
But it was hers.
Lily asked for the east-wing suite and requested that Mrs. Alvarez, the head housekeeper, accompany her. She also asked that her personal belongings be moved without anyone opening her drawers.
Lorenzo agreed to every condition.
Then he left to meet Vincent.
Lily reached the suite just as the voices began.
The east wing was separated from the main house by a long corridor lined with portraits. Through the partly closed door, she could hear men speaking in low, controlled tones.
Vincent's voice was unmistakable.
“Where is she?”
Lorenzo answered without raising his voice.
“You've become very interested in one of my employees.”
“I'm interested in the disruption she's causing.”
“What disruption?”
“She's been telling stories.”
Lily's stomach tightened.
Vincent continued, “She's young, desperate, and looking for someone to pay her bills. I've seen this before. She thinks she can turn a private misunderstanding into a financial settlement.”
A chair scraped across the floor.
Lorenzo's voice became colder.
“You're accusing her of blackmail?”
“I'm saying you should hear both sides before you destroy a relationship that's worth millions.”
“Your relationship with me is not worth millions, Vincent. It is worth exactly what you have done to earn my trust.”
Silence.
Then Vincent laughed.
“You've known me for five years. I've kept your ports running, your accounts clean, and your enemies away from your doorstep. You're going to throw all that away because a maid cried in your kitchen?”
Lily pressed her palm against her mouth.
She had known he would deny it.
She had not expected him to sound so reasonable.
Lorenzo replied, “I haven't made a decision yet.”
“Then let me speak to her.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she has already made it clear she doesn't want to see you.”
Vincent's voice sharpened.
“You're protecting her?”
“I'm protecting my employee from a man who believes he can frighten her into silence.”
The words echoed through the corridor.
A heavy silence followed.
Then Vincent said something that made Lily's blood freeze.
“You should ask her why she kept a photograph of your brother.”
Lorenzo didn't answer immediately.
“What photograph?”
“The one she took from the old study last month. The one of Matteo.”
Lily remembered it.
Three weeks earlier, she had been dusting the shelves in the library when a framed photograph slipped from a stack of old documents. She had caught it before it hit the floor, then noticed the man standing beside Lorenzo in the picture.
The resemblance was striking.
She had placed it on the desk and forgotten about it.
She had never taken it.
Vincent was lying.
But why?
Lorenzo's voice turned dangerous.
“Are you accusing Lily of stealing from me?”
“I'm asking why you're willing to risk everything for a woman you barely know.”
“That's my decision.”
“And what if she's been lying about the pregnancy, too?”
Lily felt as though someone had struck her.
There was no way Vincent could know about the baby.
Unless he had followed her to the clinic.
Unless he had seen her medical papers.
Unless—
The suite door opened.
Mrs. Alvarez stood in the doorway, pale and trembling.
“Miss Lily, Mr. Moretti wants you in the library.”
Lily rose slowly.
“Is Vincent there?”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded.
“He says he has proof that you're lying.”
Lily's hands went cold.
She walked to the library with Mrs. Alvarez beside her.
Vincent stood near the fireplace, his suit immaculate and his expression almost sympathetic. Lorenzo stood behind the desk, a photograph and a folded piece of paper in front of him.
“Lily,” Lorenzo said. “I need you to tell me something.”
She looked at the photograph.
It showed her leaving a small medical clinic in Manhattan.
The date was from two weeks earlier.
Vincent smiled.
“Congratulations, Lily. You're going to be a mother.”
Lorenzo's gaze never left her face.
“Is it true?”
She could have lied.
She could have denied everything and tried to escape before the truth destroyed what little security she had left.
Instead, she lifted her chin.
“Yes.”
Vincent's smile widened.
“And did you tell Lorenzo that you were pregnant before or after you decided to accuse me of assault?”
Lily stared at him.
“Before.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
“I told him tonight.”
Vincent turned toward Lorenzo.
“You see? She conceals information, steals photographs, and suddenly finds herself pregnant while working in your house. You don't think it's worth asking who she plans to blame next?”
Lorenzo's face became unreadable.
“Get out.”
Vincent blinked.
“What?”
“Leave my house.”
“You're making a mistake.”
“Perhaps. But I'll make it without you standing in my library.”
Vincent's expression twisted.
He leaned toward Lorenzo and spoke quietly enough that Lily almost couldn't hear him.
“You have no idea whose child she's carrying.”
Then he straightened his jacket and walked out.
The library door closed.
Lily stood motionless, staring at the empty space he had occupied.
Lorenzo picked up the photograph.
“Have you ever met Matteo?”
“No.”
“Have you ever heard your mother mention him?”
She thought of her mother's last months, of the old music box she had left behind, and of the way she had sometimes stared at a photograph on the mantelpiece before turning it facedown.
“There was a man in one of her photographs,” Lily said slowly. “I never knew his name.”
Lorenzo's eyes sharpened.
“What did he look like?”
“Dark hair. Gray eyes. He looked a little like you.”
Lorenzo went completely still.
Then he opened a drawer and removed a photograph of his brother.
Lily stared at it.
It was the same man.
Lorenzo looked down at the image, his face suddenly drained of color.
“Matteo has been dead for three years.”
May you like
He lifted his eyes to hers.
“So tell me why your mother was keeping his photograph.”
