Chapter 11

Ears on the Walls 

There was a simmering undercurrent of power struggles and unspoken threats beneath the Romano estate's oppressive silence, which was a thin veil. 

The walls themselves appeared to hold their breath, taking in the whispered exchanges and secret business that took place inside their dense stone envelopment. 

As Violet was reduced to the position of a silent servant, these walls had taken on the role of reluctant confidantes, their icy surfaces attesting to her increasing desperation and fear.

 Given the tedious assignment of cleaning Don Romano's private study, which seemed to be an endless space, Violet moved slowly and purposefully so that her movements would seem obedient and unobtrusive.

 The room was enveloped in a perpetual twilight as the heavy drapes were drawn, and the air was heavy with the musty, faint smell of old documents and the lingering scent of expensive cigar smoke.

 Wearing thin, grey gloves, her hands moved mechanically over the polished surfaces of the enormous mahogany desk and the elaborate bookshelves containing leather-bound volumes.

 Every touch was a silent investigation, a last-ditch effort to extract any stray piece of information that might provide a hint to her precarious position. 

The familiar silence of the study was broken by the distinct sound of Don Romano's raised voice during one of these ostensibly routine cleanings.

 It was a guttural, raw sound, tinged with rage that made Violet shudder in terror.

 He was debating with an invisible party, whose answers were muffled by the heavy oak door separating the study from the room next to it.

 Like a frantic bird in a cage, Violet's heart hammered against her ribs. Finding out would have dire consequences, but the urgency in Don Romano's voice and the intensity of his rage drove her to take a chance.

 Violet strained her ears, her senses sharpened, every nerve ending tingling with a mix of fear and a desperate need to know, while she pretended to adjust a heavy tapestry hanging near the door.

 Bits and pieces of the heated conversation floated through the dense wood, enticingly unfinished but eerily suggestive.

 The girl…The sound of Don Romano's voice reverberated through the door.

As I previously stated, she is no longer a concern.

"Then came a muffled reply, too vague to make out. Don Romano's voice rose once more, this time with even more rage."

Take advantage! You mention leverage?

 You are unaware of the delicate balance. Violet's thoughts were racing as she attempted to put the pieces together. 

"The girl."

Did he mean her?

 What about "leverage"?

 What influence did this invisible figure have over Don Romano, the strongman?

 The idea itself was a bit of unexpected hope, but it was also terrifying.

 Perhaps there was a way, however remote, for her to get through this dangerous terrain if Don Romano was at risk. 

Long, tense silences, perhaps even more disturbing than the shouting, were interspersed with voices that rose and fell like the tide as the argument went on.

 Violet stayed motionless, her body carefully in a neutral position, her ears listening intently to every word. 

A wave of cold dread washed over Violet as Don Romano's voice fell, the booming rage giving way to a chillingly quiet whisper.

 The shift was sudden, the subdued threat far more menacing than his anger. 

"Her fate,"he growled, his voice barely audible through the heavy door, but with a sense of finality that seemed to cement the room's atmosphere. 

"She's doomed."

The only sound to break the utter silence that ensued was Violet's own heart pounding frantically.

 Unspoken doom weighed down the words that hung in the air.

 "Her destiny is set."

Did he still mention her? 

What was he trying to say?

 Was this the last time?

 Had her future been predetermined, her very existence, her presence here already decided? 

She felt as though she was being mocked by the dust particles that were circling in a silent dance of impending doom in the slivers of light coming through the drapes. 

Violet, the silent servant inside, felt like the next occupant of the luxurious study, which had once exuded a sense of authority and power. 

Don Romano's chilling whisper reverberated in the silence, a harsh and harsh declaration of a future she sorely needed to escape, but the invisible person behind the door remained a mystery, their influence a terrifying unknown.