Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Uniform
Khloe stood alone in the pantry, listening.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No voices.
She opened the hidden compartment beneath a shelf and pulled out a small black case.
Inside was a passport under another name, several old photographs, and a faded newspaper clipping.
She stared at the photograph.
A younger girl stood beside an older man.
Her father.
Behind them was the Rossi estate in Sicily.
Khloe quickly closed the case.
She had not used that name in two years.
Katarina Rossi.
The last surviving heir of one of Europe's oldest criminal dynasties.
A family that had controlled ports, private security companies, political networks, and illegal financial operations across three countries.
Then everything collapsed.
Her father was murdered.
Her older brother disappeared.
Her mother died weeks later.
Khloe escaped.
She had spent two years becoming someone nobody would notice.
The irony was that she had succeeded too well.
Until Nicholas Moretti arrived.
A knock sounded.
Khloe froze.
“Khloe?”
Arabella.
She opened the door.
Arabella looked furious.
“You caused a scene tonight.”
“I apologized.”
“You embarrassed me.”
Khloe said nothing.
Arabella stepped closer.
“Mr. Costa wants you removed.”
Khloe looked at her.
“Removed?”
“From the estate.”
For the first time, Khloe felt genuine relief.
She could leave.
She could disappear again.
But Arabella continued.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Moretti disagreed.”
Khloe's stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He said you're staying.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Arabella grabbed her wrist.
“And don't ask questions.”
She walked away.
Khloe waited until the footsteps disappeared.
Then she returned to the pantry.
Her instincts told her something was wrong.
Nicholas didn't protect servants.
Men like him didn't even notice servants.
Unless they were looking for something.
Or someone.
Upstairs, Nicholas stood in the study.
Enzo placed the object on the desk.
A small metal pendant.
It had been hidden beneath Khloe's uniform.
Nicholas stared at it.
The emblem engraved on its surface was unmistakable.
A wolf surrounded by three stars.
The Rossi crest.
Enzo's face changed.
“You're sure?”
Nicholas nodded.
“Where did you get this?”
“Floor near the ballroom.”
Enzo lowered his voice.
“Then the rumors were true.”
Nicholas picked up the pendant.
For years, intelligence reports had claimed the Rossi heir was dead.
Others believed she had fled.
A few insisted she was living somewhere in America under a false identity.
Nicholas had never accepted the possibility of her death.
Not after Palermo.
Not after the woman who had saved his life.
“Find everything on Khloe Hastings,” he said.
Enzo hesitated.
“Boss, if she's Rossi—”
“I know.”
“She could be dangerous.”
Nicholas looked at him.
“So could I.”
Downstairs, Khloe returned to work.
She expected surveillance.
Instead, she found Nicholas waiting near the servants' corridor.
Alone.
She stopped.
He looked at her injured finger.
“You're bleeding.”
“It isn't serious.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Nicholas's eyebrow lifted.
Khloe immediately lowered her eyes.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Don't apologize.”
He stepped closer.
She resisted the instinct to move away.
“What's your name?”
“Khloe Hastings.”
“I didn't ask what the papers say.”
Her heart stopped.
Nicholas's eyes remained fixed on hers.
“Who are you?”
Khloe said nothing.
He studied her.
Then unexpectedly stepped aside.
“Go.”
She passed him.
“Khloe.”
She stopped.
“If someone threatens you tonight, don't run.”
She looked back.
“Why?”
His expression hardened.
“Because whoever is watching you already knows where you'll run.”
Khloe walked away.
Her pulse was racing.
For the first time in two years, someone had seen through the disguise.
And somehow, the most frightening part wasn't that Nicholas suspected her.
It was that he seemed determined to protect her.
Later that night, Khloe entered her tiny room.
She opened the door.
Something was wrong.
Her bed had been disturbed.
She slowly reached beneath the mattress.
Her emergency knife was missing.
A piece of paper lay on the pillow.
Three words were written in black ink.
WE FOUND YOU.
Khloe's blood ran cold.
She turned toward the window.
A shadow moved outside.
Before she could react, the glass shattered.
She dropped.
A bullet struck the wall where her head had been.
Khloe rolled behind the bed.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Security.
Men shouted.
Khloe crawled toward the window.
Someone grabbed her wrist.
She twisted instinctively.
The attacker slammed against the wall.
She caught herself before revealing too much.
Then a deep voice cut through the darkness.
“Enough.”
Nicholas.
He stood in the doorway.
His gun was aimed directly at the wounded intruder.
His eyes moved to Khloe.
For a second, he said nothing.
Then he noticed her stance.
The way she had positioned herself.
The way her hand hovered near the attacker's weapon.
Nicholas slowly lowered his gun.
“You're not a maid.”
Khloe stared at him.
“No.”
“Who are you?”
She swallowed.
May you like
Then whispered:
“The woman your enemies have been hunting for five years.”
