Chapter 2 - The Serpent in the Foyer
Upstairs in the grand foyer of the Duca estate, the air was suffocatingly polite.
Vincent Romano stood beneath the central chandelier, surrounded by six armed guards. He was dressed impeccably in a charcoal suit, sipping a glass of bourbon as if he owned the marble floors beneath his feet.
"Where is Sophia?" Vincent asked, turning to a young guard named Matteo. "She was supposed to finish the inventory in the dining room an hour ago."
"I haven't seen her, Mr. Romano," Matteo replied nervously. "Should I search the servants' wing?"
"No," Vincent said smoothly, a dark glint in his eyes. "I'll check the pantry myself. She's always fussing over the linens."
Vincent set his glass down on a mahogany side table and walked slowly toward the kitchen corridor. He adjusted his jacket, his hand lingering for a moment over his missing button, a slight scowl passing over his face.
He didn't know that three floors beneath him, Lorenzo Duca was alive.
As Vincent reached the pantry door, the heavy brass handle turned from the inside.
The door opened, and Sophia stepped out. She looked pale, her hands tucked neatly beneath her white apron, her head bowed in respect. Emma walked quietly beside her, holding Biscotti in her arms.
"Sophia," Vincent said, stopping two feet away. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her apron. "You look flustered. Is everything all right in the kitchens?"
"Yes, Mr. Romano," Sophia said softly, keeping her eyes fixed on his polished leather shoes. "Emma dropped a plate in the pantry. We were just cleaning up the mess."
Vincent leaned down, his shadow falling completely over Emma. "Is that true, little one? Just a broken plate?"
Emma looked up at Vincent. Her seven-week-old fear of stern adults vanished beneath the fierce, protective instinct only a toddler possessed. She looked at his jacket, right at the thread dangling where his horn button used to be.
"You took Uncle Lorenzo's watch," Emma said clearly.
The hallway went dead quiet.
Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. She stepped instinctively in front of her daughter.
Vincent’s smile vanished. His hand moved toward his inner jacket pocket where his gun was holstered. "What did you say, girl?"
"You dropped your button," Emma continued, reaching into her own dress pocket and pulling out the tiny silver fragment of her broken pink scissors. "And my scissors broke because your plastic ties are too hard!"
Vincent realized the truth in a fraction of a second. His face contorted with rage, and he drew his pistol, aiming it straight at Sophia’s chest.
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"You meddling little rat—"
BANG.
