Chapter 3 - THE HOUSEKEEPER WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
The penthouse felt different when we returned from the hospital.
The marble floors were still spotless.
The windows still overlooked Lake Michigan.
The guards still stood beside the elevators.
But the house no longer felt merely cold.
It felt dangerous.
Valentina remained in the hospital for observation.
Dante stayed beside her until she fell asleep.
Then he returned home and asked everyone with access to her medication to provide information through the household's legal adviser.
Nobody was accused publicly.
Nobody was threatened.
But the usual atmosphere of quiet obedience had changed.
For the first time, people were being asked questions they couldn't dismiss.
Patricia looked exhausted.
The private nurse reviewed her records.
The kitchen staff listed every supplement and medication they'd handled.
And Celeste refused to participate without her attorney.
That frightened me.
Not because she wanted legal advice.
Everyone had that right.
But because she'd spent months treating Valentina's health as a family matter she alone understood.
Now the records suggested someone had been interfering with her care.
That evening, Dante found me cleaning the pantry.
"Serena."
I turned.
"Yes, sir?"
"You're off duty."
"I know."
"Then why are you still working?"
I glanced toward the shelves.
"Keeping busy."
He studied me.
"You're worried."
I shrugged.
"Your mother has been kind to me."
His expression softened.
"She has excellent instincts."
I almost smiled.
Then he asked:
"How did you know those pills weren't part of her treatment?"
I hesitated.
"My mother takes a lot of medication. I've learned to check labels carefully."
Dante nodded.
"Is she doing well?"
I looked down.
"Some days."
For months, I'd avoided discussing my family.
I didn't want anyone pitying me.
I didn't want people knowing how much my mother's treatment cost.
And I certainly didn't want Dante Moretti believing I expected him to solve my problems.
He leaned against the counter.
"Patricia says you're supporting your younger brother through college."
I stiffened.
"She shouldn't have told you."
Dante straightened.
"You're right."
The immediate apology surprised me.
He continued.
"I won't ask about your finances unless you want to talk about them."
I looked toward him.
For a man accustomed to controlling everything, he was surprisingly willing to hear a boundary.
Then I asked:
"Why does Celeste dislike your mother?"
His expression changed.
"She claims Valentina never accepted her."
"Did she?"
Dante hesitated.
"My mother believes Celeste's family benefited from my brother's death."
My stomach tightened.
"Luca?"
He nodded.
I remembered his words from the night Marco and Elias were recovering.
Someone betrayed him.
"What happened to your brother?"
Dante looked toward the windows.
"He was investigating missing money from one of our charitable foundations."
I went still.
"What kind of foundation?"
"One that provided scholarships and medical assistance to families affected by violence."
My pulse quickened.
My mother had once applied for assistance from a charity connected to the Moretti name.
She'd been approved.
Then the payments stopped without explanation.
Dante continued.
"Luca found irregular transfers. He planned to confront the financial director."
I swallowed.
"Who was the director?"
"Celeste's father."
My chest tightened.
"Arthur Bowmont?"
Dante nodded.
Then he said the words that made my skin crawl.
"Luca died the night before that meeting."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Dante looked toward me.
"Why?"
I swallowed.
"My mother received support from a Moretti foundation six years ago."
His expression changed.
"And?"
"The payments stopped shortly after Luca died."
Silence.
Then I remembered a detail I'd never understood.
The charity representative who visited our apartment and told Mom her assistance had been canceled.
A tall man wearing a dark blue suit.
A small scar near his ear.
I'd seen that same man at the penthouse.
Standing beside Celeste.
Dante noticed my face.
"Serena?"
I looked at him.
"There's someone you need to know about."
I described the man.
His expression hardened.
"That's Julian Price."
"Who is he?"
"Celeste's family's private security director."
My heart pounded.
Then Dante revealed one final detail.
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Julian Price had been the last person seen with Luca Moretti before the fatal shooting.
And he was currently inside the penthouse.
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