Breakfast With The Devil

Erin’s POV

The sound of footsteps woke me before the sun did.

It wasn’t loud, just a faint rhythm in the hallway. Heavy boots moving past my door, pausing, then fading again. For a second, I thought it was part of a dream. But when I opened my eyes, the room was already filled with that cold kind of light that comes before sunrise.

Luca was still asleep beside me. His breathing was soft, even, and I didn’t want to disturb it. The night had been calm, but something about the air felt wrong again. Too still. Too watchful.

I sat up quietly and looked around. The window curtains were half open, letting in the faint glow of dawn. A soft breeze pushed through the crack, carrying the smell of wet grass and rain.

The clock on the wall read six thirty.

For a while, I just sat there, listening. The house below was silent. No sirens, no shouting, no movement. But the silence was not peaceful. It had weight to it, like the quiet before a storm.

I got out of bed carefully, tucked the blanket around Luca, and walked to the window. The courtyard below was already guarded. Two men stood near the gates, one by the stables. None of them looked relaxed.

It was strange how quickly I had learned to recognize tension in their movements. A tilt of the head, the way they scanned corners, hands near their weapons even when they seemed still.

Something had happened again.

I turned away and rubbed my face, trying to chase off the uneasy feeling that had followed me since yesterday.

When I stepped into the bathroom, the cold tiles shocked my bare feet. I washed my face and stared at my reflection. I looked tired, older somehow. The sleepless nights were starting to show in my eyes.

As I brushed my teeth, I tried to convince myself that maybe everything was just tightening because of last night’s breach. But deep down, I knew better. Michele’s world didn’t pause. It reacted.

And when it reacted, someone always paid the price.

A knock came on the door. It was light, almost polite.

“Come in,” I said, drying my face with the towel.

The door opened, and one of the guards stepped in — a different one this time. Taller, cleaner uniform, his posture sharp. He kept his eyes forward, not meeting mine.

“The boss requests you and the boy for breakfast in the main dining room,” he said.

I hesitated. Michele had never invited us to eat with him before. “Now?”

“Yes. He said not to be late.”

He left as quickly as he came.

I turned toward the bed. Luca was awake now, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Almost seven,” I said softly. “Your father wants us to have breakfast with him.”

That woke him up fast. “Really?”

I nodded, helping him out of bed. “Come on. Let’s get you ready.”

He was already smiling. “Maybe he will let me pour the syrup this time.”

I smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

But my stomach felt tight. I didn’t know why Michele wanted us at his table this morning, but something told me it wasn’t just breakfast.

By the time we reached the dining hall, the house had fully woken up. Guards moved quietly through the hallways, checking corners. The maids were careful, their voices low. The usual background hum of the mansion was replaced by something quieter, more cautious.

The dining room looked the same as always — long table, pale light through tall windows, faint smell of coffee and butter. Michele was already there, sitting at the head of the table, a file open beside his plate. He looked as calm as ever, but his eyes were different this morning. Sharper. Watchful.

Luca ran to him immediately. “Papa!”

Michele’s expression softened. He closed the file and pulled Luca into a quick hug. “You slept well?”

“Yes. Erin stayed again.”

“I know,” Michele said. His eyes flicked to me briefly. “He always does.”

I forced a small smile and took the seat beside Luca.

Breakfast was already served. Toast, fruit, eggs, coffee. The smell of fresh bread filled the air. Michele poured Luca’s milk himself, the gesture simple but careful. I couldn’t tell if it was affection or habit.

We ate mostly in silence. Luca talked about the horses, about how he wanted to name one after his favorite cartoon character. Michele listened, nodding occasionally, but I could see his thoughts were elsewhere.

Every few minutes, he glanced toward the window, then at his phone, as if waiting for a message that never came.

When Luca finally started eating his pancakes, Michele looked at me. “You heard something yesterday.”

It wasn’t a question.

I paused, lowering my fork. “Yes.”

His voice stayed calm. “What exactly did you hear?”

I hesitated, then told him the truth. “That someone tried to get into the house. That one of your men might have helped them.”

He nodded slowly. “Anything else?”

I shook my head.

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You should not be near doors when men talk.”

“I wasn’t trying to listen.”

“I know,” he said. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was weight in it. “Curiosity can be dangerous in this house.”

I looked down. “I understand.”

Luca looked between us, confused. “Are you mad at Erin?”

Michele’s voice softened again. “No, I am not mad. I am just teaching him something.”

The boy nodded and went back to his food.

I stayed quiet after that. My appetite had disappeared anyway.

When breakfast was over, Michele stood and placed a hand on Luca’s head. “Go to the garden,” he said. “Take your cars. Two guards will stay with you.”

“Can Erin come?”

Michele’s eyes moved to me again. “Of course.”

Luca ran ahead, already excited. I stood slowly, unsure what to do next.

Michele’s voice stopped me. “Stay for a moment.”

I froze.

He waited until Luca had left the room before speaking again. “I meant what I said last night. You did well during the lockdown. But this house is not safe yet.”

“I figured.”

He moved closer, stopping a few feet away. “If anything happens again, you take Luca to the panic room. You remember where it is?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep the code to yourself. Not even the staff should know you have it.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

His eyes stayed on me, steady, assessing. “Someone in this house is not who they seem. Until I find out who, trust only me.”

The words should have comforted me, but they didn’t. There was something else in his tone, something that made my pulse quicken. Not threat exactly, but not safety either.

I nodded. “Alright.”

He studied me another second before stepping back. “Go with him. He waits for you.”

I turned and walked toward the garden.

The sunlight had grown stronger. The grass sparkled with dew. Luca was already kneeling near the flower beds, setting up his toy cars in a neat line. The guards stood a few meters away, pretending not to watch.

I sat down on the bench and tried to breathe normally.

Something had changed. Michele had been calm, almost gentle, but there was a tension underneath. His questions about what I had heard, the way his gaze lingered a second too long, the way his tone shifted between warmth and warning.

It was subtle, but I felt it.

I glanced toward the house. From the corner of my eye, I could see one of the upstairs windows — Michele’s study. The curtains moved slightly, just enough for me to know someone was there.

Watching.

Luca laughed suddenly, breaking the thought. He had stacked two cars and was pretending they were flying. “Look, Erin!”

I smiled. “That’s clever.”

He grinned. “Papa says I can ride the horses later again.”

“That’s good.”

He kept playing, his laughter floating through the air like it belonged somewhere far away.

I leaned back on the bench, feeling the weight of the morning pressing on me. Every sound seemed to carry meaning now. The soft murmur of guards, the wind through the trees, even the faint hum from the house.

When I looked toward the window again, the curtain had stopped moving.

I told myself I was imagining it. But deep down, I knew Michele’s world didn’t leave things to imagination.

He was watching. Not just me, but everything. Every word, every move. And somehow, even without saying it, I felt that I had become part of whatever game had started around him.

Luca ran back to me, holding a flower. “For you,” he said proudly.

I took it, smiling despite the heaviness in my chest. “Thank you, sailor.”

He giggled. “Why sailor?”

“Because you like the sea, remember?”

He nodded, pleased with the answer, and ran off again.

I stared at the small flower in my hand, its stem bent slightly. It was fragile, bright, simple. The kind of thing that didn’t belong in a house like this.

Neither did I.

The rest of the morning passed quietly. Michele didn’t come out again, but I saw his men moving more often now. Two guards followed us even when we went to the stables. Another stayed near the gate. Their eyes never rested.

When we returned to the house around noon, the air felt thicker again. A tension I couldn’t name. I told Luca to wash his hands while I went to get water from the kitchen.

On my way there, I passed by the study. The door was half closed. I didn’t mean to look, but curiosity pulled me in. Michele was inside, standing near his desk, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, controlled, but his jaw was tight.

“Yes,” he said. “I have it under control. No, he doesn’t know.”

I froze.

He turned slightly, and for a second, I thought his eyes met mine through the crack in the door. But then he looked away again.

My chest tightened.

I walked quickly toward the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, and stayed there longer than I needed to.

When I finally went back upstairs, Luca was sitting on the floor drawing. “Erin, look! I drew Papa and you and me.”

He held up the paper proudly. Three stick figures. One tall, one small, one in the middle.

“That’s beautiful,” I said softly.

“Papa says we’re safe now,” he said, still coloring.

I forced a smile. “He’s right.”