Chapter 2 - The Maid Who Refused to Pity Him
The next morning Vincent changed the way he observed the house.
He stopped speaking.
He stopped complaining.
He watched.
And once a man like Vincent Corvino began watching, almost nothing escaped him.
The household moved differently when they believed he was helpless.
Two guards who used to greet him now whispered near the kitchen.
One maid stopped entering his room unless Tessa was present.
The financial administrator, a pale man named Leonard, avoided eye contact whenever Vincent asked about business.
And Arya began spending more time downstairs with Dominic.
Vincent didn't confront anyone.
Not yet.
Instead, he waited for Tessa.
She arrived at seven fifteen carrying fresh towels and a small notebook.
"Morning."
Vincent nodded.
"You slept badly."
"How do you know?"
"Your sheets are wrinkled. You usually don't move much."
He stared.
"You pay attention to everything."
"I have to."
"Why?"
"Because nobody else seems to."
She opened his curtains.
Sunlight flooded the room.
Vincent winced.
"Too bright?"
"No."
"You hate mornings."
"I hate everything."
Tessa glanced at him.
"That's more honest."
She prepared the medications.
Then she noticed the skin along his left hip.
Her expression changed.
"How long has this been hurting?"
"I can't feel it."
"That wasn't my question."
Vincent looked at her.
"It's been there?"
She leaned closer.
A red patch was developing.
"Pressure injury."
"How serious?"
"Not serious yet."
"Yet."
"If ignored, it becomes serious."
Vincent sighed.
"Do what you need."
Tessa lowered the bed.
"We're changing your position every two hours today."
"I have meetings."
"You have a pressure sore."
"I run a criminal organization."
"I don't care."
Vincent blinked.
Tessa adjusted a pillow beneath his hip.
"You can terrify everybody else in this house, Mr. Corvino. You're still going to turn onto your side when I tell you."
A laugh escaped him.
It was rough and surprised.
Tessa looked up.
"Was that a laugh?"
"No."
"It sounded like one."
"I coughed."
"Right."
She smiled.
For the first time, Vincent smiled back.
The moment lasted three seconds.
Then the phone beside the bed rang.
Vincent answered.
"Corvino."
A nervous voice replied.
"Boss, the shipment at Pier Four was intercepted."
"By who?"
"We don't know."
Vincent's eyes sharpened.
"How much?"
"Eight million."
"Missing?"
"All of it."
Vincent's hand tightened around the phone.
"Send me the manifests."
"They're on the encrypted system."
"Then send me the access log."
"I don't have clearance."
"You have ten minutes to get it."
He ended the call.
Tessa continued folding towels as if she hadn't heard.
"You don't want to ask?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you've never asked me anything you didn't need to know."
Vincent studied her.
"Most people would."
"I'm not most people."
"Apparently."
Later that morning, Vincent insisted on transferring to his wheelchair.
The physical therapist had been pushing him for weeks, but Vincent had become increasingly reluctant.
Tessa positioned the chair.
"Lock the wheels."
"They're locked."
"Brakes?"
"Locked."
"Good."
He pushed himself upright.
Pain shot through his back.
His arms trembled.
His body tipped.
Tessa caught his shoulder.
"Slowly."
"I'm fine."
"You are not fine."
"I can do it."
"I know."
Those three words changed something.
She didn't say, "You can't."
She said, "I know."
I know you can.
Vincent gritted his teeth and transferred himself.
When he finally landed in the chair, he was breathing hard.
Tessa stepped back.
She didn't clap.
She didn't praise him like a child.
She simply said, "Good."
Vincent looked at her.
"That's all?"
"You want a parade?"
"Maybe."
"I'll order balloons."
He laughed again.
A real laugh this time.
That afternoon, Arya entered the room and froze.
Vincent was sitting in his wheelchair by the window.
Tessa was helping him button a shirt.
"You transferred?"
Vincent nodded.
"By himself?" Arya asked.
Tessa corrected her.
"With minimal assistance."
Arya stared.
"You should have called me."
"For what?"
Arya's lips parted.
Vincent watched her struggle.
"For support."
"You weren't here."
"I was shopping for the wedding."
"Of course."
His tone was quiet.
Arya noticed.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"No. You're doing that thing."
"What thing?"
"Acting like there's something you're not saying."
Vincent leaned back.
"You should talk to Dominic about that."
Arya's face tightened.
"Don't bring him into this."
"Why?"
"Because he's handling business."
"My business."
"Our future."
Vincent stared at the ring on her finger.
"Is that what this is about?"
Arya looked away.
"What?"
"Our future."
She swallowed.
"We're getting married."
"When?"
"In November."
"It's September."
"I know."
"Two months."
"Yes."
"And you still have not once asked what kind of life I want after the wedding."
Arya crossed her arms.
"What kind of life do you expect?"
Vincent looked down at his wheelchair.
"A real one."
The room went silent.
Then Arya said something that would haunt both of them.
"Vince, you need to be realistic. I'm not going to spend my life being a nurse."
Tessa's hands stopped moving.
Vincent looked at Arya for several long seconds.
"I never asked you to."
"You'll need help."
"Everyone needs help."
"But you'll need more than most."
"Then don't marry me."
Arya stared.
"What?"
"Don't marry me."
Her face changed.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
"But the families—"
"I don't care."
"The business—"
"I don't care."
"The wedding is already paid for."
"Cancel it."
Arya's eyes filled with anger.
"You think you can discard me?"
Vincent's expression went cold.
"You did that months ago."
Arya stormed out.
Tessa remained silent.
Vincent looked at her.
"What?"
"I don't think she was ever planning to marry you."
He stared.
"That's blunt."
"I try."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because she has the face of someone waiting for an inheritance, not a husband."
Vincent looked toward the door.
"You're observant."
"I'm broke."
"What?"
"People who are broke learn to notice things. You notice who's lying before the check comes."
Vincent smiled faintly.
"I think you're dangerous."
Tessa lifted an eyebrow.
"Then you should probably fire me."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because for the first time in six months, I think someone in this house is actually on my side."
Tessa's expression softened.
"I'm on the side of whoever needs help."
Vincent held her gaze.
"And if that person is me?"
"Then it's you."
That night, another package arrived.
It contained a single black envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Vincent's car on the night of the shooting.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU WERE NEVER THE TARGET.
Vincent turned the photo over.
A second sentence had been written beneath the first.
YOUR FATHER'S SECRET IS STILL ALIVE.
His father's name had not been spoken inside the Corvino house in years.
Not in business.
Not in family meetings.
Not even at funerals.
Tessa noticed his expression.
"What's wrong?"
Vincent handed her the photograph.
She stared at it.
"Your father?"
"Yes."
"What secret?"
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
Vincent looked up.
"You don't think I should leave it alone?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because whoever sent this wants you afraid."
She placed the photograph down.
"Don't give them what they want."
Vincent stared at her.
"What would I do without you?"
Tessa's voice softened.
"Probably make very bad coffee choices."
He smiled.
But neither of them noticed the camera hidden behind the painting across the hall.
May you like
Someone was watching them.
And someone had just seen the beginning of something dangerous.
