Chapter 3 - The Fire and the Proof
Smoke poured out of the basement stairwell like a black, choking ribbon, filling the lower corridors with the smell of burning plastic and lithium batteries.
"Get the baby outside!" Alessio roared over the sound of fire alarms that had suddenly begun to wail throughout the mansion.
"No!" I yelled back, pulling Leo under my heavy wool coat. "The storm outside is freezing! If he inhales cold air and smoke, his airway will close up again!"
Alessio grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, pulling me behind him toward the private library on the ground floor—a room reinforced with bulletproof glass and steel-lined walls. He shoved the heavy double doors open, pushed me inside, and drew his pistol.
"Stay here. Lock the door from the inside," he ordered, his dark eyes locked on mine. "If anyone other than me tries to turn that handle, shoot them."
He jammed a small black revolver into my hand.
"I don't use guns," I said, staring at the cold steel.
"You do tonight," he said.
Before I could reply, he pulled the heavy oak doors shut, and I heard the external deadbolt slide home. He hadn't just locked me in; he had shielded us.
Inside the library, the fire alarms were muffled. The room smelled of old leather, paper, and cedar. I sat on the floor behind a heavy mahogany desk, holding Leo close, the revolver lying on the carpet within inches of my hand.
My mind was racing.
Julian’s sudden panic. The offshore transfer. The fire in the server room. It was all too convenient. Whoever had designed the silver needle inside the bead wasn't just trying to kill the heir to the Romano empire—they were systematically eliminating every piece of evidence that could point to them.
The camera.
My eyes snapped to the corner of the library ceiling.
Every high-value room in the Romano estate had an independent security camera wired to the central server. But three days ago, while changing the linen in the nursery, I had noticed something small on the antique grandfather clock near Leo’s crib.
A hidden, self-contained nanny camera.
Alessio’s late wife, Elena, had been paranoid before she died. She had secretly installed her own battery-powered, motion-activated camera inside the clock face, entirely separate from the house’s main security network. She had shown it to me during my interview, telling me it was her "little secret" to make sure the night staff didn't neglect her son.
When Elena died in that "car accident" four months ago, everyone forgot about it.
The battery.
A battery-powered camera doesn't rely on the basement server. It stores footage on an internal micro-SD card.
My heart began to hammer against my ribs. The fire in the basement was meant to destroy the main server logs, but whoever set it didn't know about Elena’s hidden camera.
I checked Leo. He was sleeping deeply, unharmed by the commotion.
I grabbed the revolver, held it firmly in my right hand, and stood up. I walked to the library window that looked out onto the courtyard. Rain was beating against the glass, but through the darkness, I could see guards running back and forth with extinguishers, smoke rising from the basement grates.
Suddenly, a shadow moved in the hallway outside the library doors.
I froze, lifting the revolver with both hands, aiming it at the center of the frosted glass panels.
A key inserted into the lock.
The deadbolt retracted.
The doors swung open.
Alessio stepped through, covered in soot, his shirt torn at the shoulder, his face smeared with ash. He held a tactical knife in one hand and his SIG Sauer in the other. He stopped when he saw me standing behind the desk, pointing a gun directly at his chest.
For a second, neither of us moved.
"It’s me, Clara," he said softly, lowering his gun. "Lower the weapon."
I let out a shaky breath and lowered the revolver. "The fire?"
"Contained to the server rack," he said, wiping ash from his forehead. "Someone threw a thermite grenade into the primary mainframe. Every frame of video footage from the last thirty days is melted slag."
"Not every frame," I said.
Alessio paused, his eyes sharpening through the gloom. "What are you talking about?"
"Elena," I said quietly. "Elena hid a micro-camera inside the grandfather clock in the nursery six months ago. It operates on an independent battery and an internal SD card."
Alessio’s jaw dropped. The shadow of his late wife seemed to hover in the room between us.
May you like
"Is it still there?" he whispered.
"It was there at midnight," I replied. "If we get to that SD card before whoever set that fire realizes it exists, we won't just see who put the bead in Leo’s crib... we’ll see who killed your wife."
