Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.

The gates of Vincenzo's villa closed behind me with a gentle swish that grated against the tension that still wound through my muscles. I slid back into the mask that was second nature to me: the detached, clinical professional. But under the surface, adrenaline still thudded through me like a second heart, too loudly, too quickly.

Each step I walked down the marble corridor rang in my ears. I trained my face into impassivity, forced my shoulders to relax, and my fists to unclench. A servant walked by with a tray, eyes averted, and I nodded vaguely, already walking by. I needed to conceal that I'd just shaken a tail and lied to my uncle's face about everything being fine.

The house was quiet, wrapped in that eerie silence of money and power. But as I rounded the corner along the east wing, a voice cut through the silence like a blade.

"Where were you?"

I stopped. Turned slowly.

Isadora was waiting, arms crossed, half-hidden in the shadow of the great archway. Her hair was drawn back into a harsh twist, too-old eyes boring into me. No pretence,no curiosity veiled by politeness. Just suspicion, naked and on guard.

"Out," I replied curtly, my tone flat.

She moved closer. "That is not an answer."

I raised an eyebrow. "And since when do I owe you one? I work on Vincenzo's command, not yours."

“Okay fine.” She was backed against the wall, arms folded but less aggressively now. "There's a book. A ledger. He keeps it in the study. It has names, dates, and numbers. People he's bought, people he's buried. Everything is in there."

I waited for more but it wasn't forthcoming. "Where is it, exactly?"

"The study. Top floor, south wing. He and his consigliere are the only ones who have a key. Guards take turns guarding it, especially at night. You'll need a damn good distraction."

My mind began to race with logistics. Timing. Guard patterns, routes. But why did Vincenzo have another study and how did she know about it?

"How do you know about the book?"

"I saw it once, years ago when I was still the sweet little obedient girl they paraded around at charity balls. I snuck into the study and caught him reading it. He didn't see me but I remember clearly. It has a black leather cover and a gold trim and he read it like it was scripture."

My brain was racing. "Can you get me into the south wing without setting off alarm bells?"

She smiled weakly. "I know all the passages in this house. If you're serious, I can get you close. But it would have to be the right night."

"Then let's begin planning."

She nodded once and spun on her heel and disappeared down the hall.

……….

The rain lashed that evening, cutting across the windows of the villa in slashing blows. Thunder growled far off. Storms always made people reckless, or cautious. I didn't know which to expect yet.

I was a pro, and didn't need to plan anything I thought to myself as I moved along the second-floor corridor, my steps measured. My footsteps were quiet. I had learned the shifts of the guards. Storms bring unpredictability, though. 

Just as I was reaching the corner which went in the direction of the south wing, a shadow stepped into my path causing me to halt abruptly. Broad-shouldered, perpetually too observant.

"Doctor?" Luca called, voice crisp. "What brings you upstairs?"

My heart leaped. I exhaled and forced a smile. "One of the staff asked me to attend to the heating, and said it gets patchy on this wing. I'm no engineer, but sometimes it has to do with ventilation, which I happen to know."

He didn't move. "No one told me."

I cocked my head, allowing a hint of frustrated humor. "It's not worth reporting. But if you wish, I'll go back to my quarters."

He stared at me a moment too long. Then nodded slowly. "Please do that, you're a doctor and it's insulting to you. I'll get someone to do that.”

I turned around without a word. My skin crawled as I walked away, sensing his eyes burning into my back.

……….

The next morning, the air within the villa was quieter than usual. I was seated at the table going through my notes when I heard a knock on the door.

 "Mr. Lombardi is inviting you to the parlor." A servant called out. 

“Give me a minute, I will be there.” I followed, calm on the outside but on the inside, every instinct screamed.

He was waiting when I arrived. A man was slumped in a chair, clutching his shoulder and blood trickled through his shirt.

"Knife wound," Vincenzo said. "It happened last night. Figured you could take a look."

I knelt down next to the man, gloved, drawing the cloth back. The wound was clean but deep.

"Did he receive tetanus shots within the past five years?"

"Of course," answered Vincenzo effortlessly.

I nodded and began cleaning the wound.

But this was not healthcare, this was a spectacle. I could sense it. The man's unease wasn't merely pain. It appeared… practiced.

"Apply pressure here," I said to him.

Vincenzo was pouring wine, his eyes on me.

"Ever wonder what it's like to betray someone who trusts you?"

My hands did not shake, but the words hit like a bullet. "All the time," I said, not looking up. "It's a messy thing."

"Is it?"

"Trust requires vulnerability. And vulnerability gets people killed."

He nodded slowly. "True. But betrayal… gets people buried."

He drank a mouthful of wine.

“You can go now," he said to the injured man.

I finished wrapping the wound and stood up. "He'll require antibiotics."

"See to it."

I nodded and exited the room.

I couldn't sleep that night. I walked back and forth as I replayed each sentence in my head. Was it a mere rhetorical question? Or a warning? Was Vincenzo suspecting something? 

Suddenly, someone knocked softly at my door.

Isadora entered, pale and tense. "He moved it," she whispered immediately she came in, confirming my fears.

"The ledger?"

She nodded. "Security's doubled. He's on to us. I don't know what he knows, but it's more than he's letting on."I sank into the chair. My arms encircled the armrest. 

"Then we're on borrowed time." 

"What are we going to do? Vincenzo will kill us if he finds out anything" I met her gaze. "Survive. First and foremost." She quietly slipped away, and I remained silent. Later, strolling about the villa, I found myself in front of the library. Its lights were still on. I went in. Vincenzo was lying on the sofa. A book in his lap. Asleep. The fire crackled next to him. His head lolled against the armrest, his face relaxed, vulnerable. No monster now. Only a man. There was a tightening in my chest. One I did not wish to identify. Because I wasn't meant to feel anything. Yet the distinction between hunter and prey had vanished. And I was starting to forget which one I was