Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Servant's Hall
The photograph changed everything.
Matteo stood in his study until sunrise, staring at the image of little Clara.
The photograph had been taken sixteen years earlier.
Victor had been there.
Which meant he had known Clara existed.
Which meant the attack on the estate was not random.
Clara had been targeted for a reason.
At seven in the morning, Matteo summoned Mrs. Ellison.
"Who has access to the servants' hall?"
She listed the names.
"Twenty-three people."
"Reduce it to ten."
She looked startled.
"On what basis?"
"Anyone with a financial problem. Anyone with unexplained absences. Anyone who has worked here less than a year."
Mrs. Ellison nodded.
"And Clara?"
"She stays."
The housekeeper hesitated.
"Mr. Moretti, if someone inside is helping the attackers—"
"I know."
"You trust her?"
Matteo looked toward the door.
"I do."
That answer surprised both of them.
Clara arrived ten minutes later.
"What happened?"
Matteo handed her the photograph.
Her face went pale.
"Where did this come from?"
"Your room."
She stared.
"I've never seen this."
"I know."
"Who is that man?"
"You tell me."
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Matteo believed her.
That was the problem.
Someone else had placed it there.
Someone who knew exactly how to manipulate them.
"Do you remember your mother's friends?" Matteo asked.
"Not many."
"Family?"
"My aunt."
"Name?"
"Margaret Hayes."
"Does she know anything?"
"I don't know."
Matteo picked up his phone.
"We'll find her."
Clara's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
"Because I don't think your mother disappeared alone."
That afternoon, Clara went to the kitchen.
The staff had begun avoiding her.
She understood why.
Her presence meant danger.
The whispers followed her.
"She's causing trouble."
"People are getting hurt."
"She should leave."
Clara pretended not to hear.
Then Bianca appeared.
She wore another expensive coat.
She looked flawless.
"Still working."
Clara looked at her.
"You've come back."
"I never left the city."
"Why?"
Bianca smiled.
"I own a business here."
Clara wiped her hands.
"What do you want?"
"To warn you."
"About?"
"You."
Clara frowned.
Bianca lowered her voice.
"You're not important enough to understand what's happening."
"That isn't much of a warning."
"It should be."
Bianca moved closer.
"Matteo is dangerous."
"I know."
"You think he's protecting you?"
"He is."
Bianca's expression hardened.
"Men like Matteo don't protect people. They possess them."
Clara said nothing.
Bianca smiled.
"Ask him what happened to his father's first wife."
Clara froze.
"What?"
Bianca turned.
Then she added, "And ask him why your mother was afraid of his family."
She walked away.
Clara stood still.
That evening, Matteo found her in the library.
"You look angry."
"I have questions."
"Ask."
"What happened to your father's first wife?"
His expression changed.
"Who told you about her?"
"Bianca."
Matteo sighed.
"She died."
"How?"
"A car accident."
"Was it?"
He looked at her.
"No."
Clara waited.
"She was killed."
"By whom?"
"We don't know."
"Your father?"
"No."
"Victor?"
"Possibly."
"Then why are you protecting him?"
"I'm not."
"You work with him."
"Used to."
"Then why is he still alive?"
Matteo stood.
"Because I need evidence."
Clara shook her head.
"There is always another reason."
"I am trying to keep you alive."
"Maybe I don't need you to."
The words hurt him.
She saw it immediately.
His expression closed.
"Fine."
He stepped back.
"Then protect yourself."
He left.
Clara regretted it instantly.
But pride kept her still.
Hours later, she heard Bruno barking.
She ran downstairs.
The dog was standing beside a small wooden panel.
Clara knelt.
"What is it?"
Bruno scratched the wall.
She pushed the panel.
It opened.
Inside was a narrow space.
And a key.
A silver key with the initials M.R.
Clara picked it up.
She heard footsteps.
"Clara."
Matteo.
She turned.
He looked at the key.
"Where did you get that?"
"Here."
He took it carefully.
"It's from my father's old office."
"Why is it hidden in the servants' hall?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe your father's office isn't the only place someone stored secrets."
He looked at her.
"You're learning quickly."
"I've had a good teacher."
He almost smiled.
Then the lights went out.
Both froze.
Bruno growled.
A door slammed somewhere in the dark.
Matteo pulled Clara behind him.
"Stay close."
They moved through the corridor.
A figure ran.
Matteo chased.
Clara followed.
They reached the service stairwell.
Someone crashed through a window and disappeared into the snow.
Matteo returned.
He was breathing hard.
He looked at Clara.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
He noticed a cut on her hand.
"You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
He took her hand.
"Everything is something."
Clara looked up.
The anger between them seemed smaller now.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For saying I didn't need you."
His thumb moved gently over the back of her hand.
"You don't need me."
She stared.
"But?"
"You chose me."
Her heart skipped.
Before she could answer, an alarm sounded.
Security rushed into the corridor.
A guard held up a note.
"Boss."
Matteo took it.
Read it.
His expression became deadly.
"What?"
The guard swallowed.
"Your guest room."
"What about it?"
"Someone left this."
Matteo handed the note to Clara.
Three words were written across it.
SHE REMEMBERS.
Clara frowned.
"Who?"
Matteo looked at her.
"Your mother."
Clara's knees weakened.
"My mother is alive?"
"We don't know."
He looked toward the window.
"But someone wants us to believe she is."
That night, Clara woke to the sound of the piano.
She left her room.
The hallway was empty.
The music came from the ballroom.
She walked downstairs.
At the piano sat Helen Hayes.
Her mother.
Clara stopped breathing.
Helen turned.
"Clara."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I've missed you."
Clara could not move.
Then Bruno appeared behind her.
He growled.
Helen looked at him.
"He knows."
Clara whispered, "Mom?"
May you like
Helen stood.
"I came because there isn't much time."
