Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Mrs. Gable locked herself inside the linen office on the first floor.
Her hands trembled as she dialed.
The storm had disrupted normal service, but the estate’s internal satellite line still worked.
Someone answered after three rings.
“He moved.”
Mrs. Gable whispered the words.
The voice on the other end said something that made her close her eyes.
“I know what you told me.”
She listened.
“No. Not a reflex.”
Another pause.
“The pregnant maid discovered it.”
Her expression twisted.
“I can handle her.”
She listened again.
Then whispered, “Lorenzo saw.”
The person on the other end went silent.
Mrs. Gable gripped the phone.
“What do you want me to do?”
Upstairs, Lorenzo had every person assigned to Giovanni’s care summoned to the west sitting room.
Eleven staff members stood in a line.
Nora remained in room 4B with Giovanni.
Lorenzo had ordered it.
“Do not leave him alone.”
Nora almost told him that was what she had been doing for three months.
Instead she stayed.
Giovanni’s eyes seemed more alive now that his secret had been discovered.
Nora sat beside him.
“Why did you hide it?”
He could answer only through questions.
“Were you afraid?”
Two movements.
No.
“Were you waiting?”
One.
“For Lorenzo?”
One.
“Then why not tell him when he came before?”
Giovanni’s jaw tightened.
Nora thought.
“Because someone was watching?”
One.
“The people taking care of you?”
One.
“Did someone hurt you when they realized you understood?”
Giovanni’s eyes darkened.
One.
Nora felt sick.
“Mrs. Gable?”
One.
“What did she do?”
He could not answer.
She squeezed his hand.
“You don’t have to.”
Giovanni looked toward her belly.
Lily kicked.
Nora smiled faintly.
“She likes you.”
One.
“You know, if you keep answering yes to everything, I’m going to assume you agree to be her honorary grandfather.”
His eyes softened.
One.
Nora laughed.
The door opened.
A man in a black suit entered.
He introduced himself as Matteo Ricci, Lorenzo’s head of security.
He was somewhere in his forties, heavily built, with the controlled expression of a man who spent his life expecting violence.
“Miss Hale?”
“Nora.”
“Mr. Moretti wants you downstairs.”
“Lorenzo told me not to leave Giovanni.”
“Mr. Moretti also told me to bring his father with us.”
Matteo moved toward the wheelchair.
Giovanni’s fingers tightened around Nora’s sleeve.
Nora looked at him.
“It’s okay.”
Two movements.
No.
Matteo stopped.
“Does that mean something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He doesn’t want to go.”
Matteo looked skeptical.
“He understands?”
“Completely.”
Matteo’s expression changed.
Nora said, “Ask him.”
The security chief crouched.
“Mr. Moretti, do you know who I am?”
One movement.
Matteo went still.
“Jesus.”
Giovanni’s finger moved twice.
Nora almost smiled.
“I think he objects to your language.”
Matteo stared.
Then something like emotion crossed his face.
“I served him when I was twenty-one.”
He looked down.
“I thought he was gone.”
Nora whispered, “He wasn’t.”
Matteo stood.
“I’ll tell Lorenzo he stays.”
Before he could leave, Giovanni moved his finger toward Matteo.
Then toward the hallway.
Once.
Matteo frowned.
“You want me to go?”
Twice.
Giovanni repeated the gesture.
Matteo.
Hallway.
Nora understood first.
“He wants you to watch someone.”
Matteo’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Nora began naming people.
“Mrs. Gable?”
One.
Matteo did not ask another question.
He left.
Downstairs, Lorenzo stood before the estate staff.
He had already discovered enough to know something was very wrong.
Three employees admitted that Giovanni’s meals were sometimes delayed.
One admitted Mrs. Gable reduced his room heat because she said an elderly stroke victim “didn’t need tropical temperatures.”
Another confessed that the night staff occasionally left him unchanged until morning.
Lorenzo listened without interruption.
That frightened them more than shouting would have.
Finally, he asked, “Who struck him?”
Nobody moved.
He repeated the question.
“I want the name of every person who ever put a hand on my father.”
A young maid began crying.
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“Sir, some staff may have needed to restrain him during hygiene care.”
Lorenzo turned.
“My father cannot voluntarily move most of his body.”
“Exactly. Sometimes positioning him requires physical control.”
“Control is not what I asked about.”
Silence.
Lorenzo walked down the line.
“I asked who struck him.”
The young maid whispered, “Mrs. Gable.”
Everyone turned.
Mrs. Gable went white.
“That is a lie.”
The maid was shaking.
“I saw you slap him.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“You filthy little liar.”
Lorenzo’s voice cut through the room.
“Enough.”
Mrs. Gable stopped.
The maid continued.
“She thought he was staring at her.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
“What?”
“She said he kept watching her.”
Mrs. Gable moved forward.
“She is inventing this because I wrote her up for theft.”
“Did you strike my father?”
“No.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
Mrs. Gable met his eyes.
For ten seconds, neither moved.
Then Matteo entered.
He walked directly to Lorenzo and whispered something.
Lorenzo looked toward Mrs. Gable.
“Where is your phone?”
She stiffened.
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone.”
“In my apron.”
“Give it to Matteo.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
Matteo stepped forward.
Mrs. Gable backed away.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Lorenzo’s voice became quiet.
“Someone used the satellite line seventeen minutes ago.”
Mrs. Gable’s face changed.
“The estate manager may have—”
“From the linen office.”
No one moved.
Matteo held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes darted toward the side door.
Lorenzo saw it.
“So did Matteo.”
She ran.
The staff screamed as she knocked into a serving table.
Matteo followed.
Mrs. Gable reached the corridor.
Then suddenly stopped.
Two armed guards had appeared at the other end.
She turned.
Lorenzo stood behind her.
There was no anger in his face.
That was worse.
“Who did you call?”
She said nothing.
“Who?”
“I called no one.”
Lorenzo nodded toward Matteo.
“Bring her to the security office.”
Mrs. Gable panicked.
“You cannot hold me here!”
“This property is surrounded by three feet of snow.”
He looked out the window.
“Where exactly were you planning to go?”
She began yelling.
“You think that maid is innocent?”
Lorenzo stopped.
Mrs. Gable saw it.
Her desperation became calculation.
“You don't even know who she is.”
Nora, who had just reached the doorway with Giovanni after he finally agreed to move, froze.
Mrs. Gable pointed at her.
“That girl brought danger inside this house.”
Nora stared.
“What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Gable laughed.
“Ask her about the father of her baby.”
Lorenzo looked at Nora.
“Brody?”
Nora’s stomach dropped.
“How do you know his name?”
Mrs. Gable smiled.
“Because Brody Cole was never just some pathetic gambler.”
Nora could barely breathe.
“What?”
“He worked for people who have wanted the Morettis dead for years.”
Lorenzo’s eyes moved sharply to Nora.
Matteo drew closer.
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
Mrs. Gable continued.
“Tell her, Lorenzo. Tell your pregnant little charity case what happens when the Bellanti family sends a man into somebody’s life.”
Nora felt the room spinning.
“Brody had nothing to do with this.”
Mrs. Gable looked almost delighted.
“He disappeared the same week you applied for a job here.”
Nora stared at her.
Lorenzo turned to Matteo.
“Check it.”
Matteo pulled out his phone.
Mrs. Gable smiled wider.
Nora's chest tightened.
Brody had known she needed work.
He had told her about the estate opening.
Had he?
She tried to remember.
He had left a newspaper on the kitchen counter.
A classified section folded open.
Domestic staff needed. Live-in options available.
Nora had assumed it was luck.
Her baby moved painfully.
Lorenzo noticed.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pale.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Matteo looked up from the phone.
His face had changed.
“Lorenzo.”
“What?”
“We have a Brody Cole in Bellanti surveillance files.”
Nora stopped breathing.
Matteo continued.
“Low-level runner. Gambling rooms. Collections. Courier work.”
Nora shook her head.
“No.”
“There’s more.”
“What?”
Matteo looked at Nora.
“He disappeared six months ago after stealing money from a Bellanti-controlled betting operation.”
Exactly when he had abandoned her.
Nora whispered, “How much?”
“Two hundred eighty thousand.”
Her knees weakened.
Lorenzo caught her arm before she fell.
Mrs. Gable watched with satisfaction.
“I told you.”
Nora pulled away from Lorenzo.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
She stared at him.
He had answered too quickly.
“How can you?”
“Because if Bellanti sent you here intentionally, they chose the worst undercover operative in criminal history.”
Despite herself, Nora almost laughed.
Almost.
Lorenzo continued.
“You bought my father a blanket with your own money.”
Mrs. Gable snapped, “She could have been building trust.”
Giovanni’s finger moved violently.
Once.
Again.
Again.
Lorenzo saw.
He crouched.
“Papa?”
Giovanni pointed toward Mrs. Gable.
Then toward himself.
Then dragged one trembling finger slowly across the arm of the wheelchair.
As though writing.
Nora watched.
M.
A.
R.
Lorenzo frowned.
“Marco?”
Giovanni moved once.
Matteo's face hardened.
“Marco Bellanti.”
Mrs. Gable stopped breathing.
Lorenzo turned slowly toward her.
The room went silent.
Mrs. Gable had accused Nora of bringing the Bellantis into the estate.
But Giovanni was telling them something far worse.
May you like
Mrs. Gable already knew Marco Bellanti.
And judging from the terror in her eyes, she had known him for years.
