Chapter 4 - The Four-Year-Old’s SecretDownstairs in the staff quarters, the house was dark except for the amber glow of a single desk lamp in Clara’s room. Little Emma was still awake, sitting cross-legged on her narrow mattress, her small pink dress folded neatly over the chair. In her lap, she held a fresh sheet of drawing paper.
With intense, quiet concentration, the four-year-old was drawing a second picture. In this one, she didn't draw hands under a table. She drew a tall man with a dark suit standing at the top of a grand staircase, holding a glowing lantern, while a small girl with bright ribbons stood behind a heavy iron door marked with a red key.
Clara watched her daughter, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She remembered the whispered instruction she had received from Victor Romano five minutes ago via a brief text message: Keep the child locked inside. Do not let her near the courtyard doors.
"Emma," Clara whispered, kneeling beside the mattress and gently touching her daughter's ink-stained fingers. "Why did you tell the master to look under the table tonight? Who told you to say those words?"
Emma looked up, her impossibly clear blue eyes reflecting the lamplight. She didn't look scared; she looked like someone who had just finished reading a book everyone else was too blind to open.
"The man with the gray hair," Emma whispered back, her voice sweet and unnaturally calm. "He gave me a shiny silver coin behind the dessert cart. He said, 'If you tell the big man with the cold eyes to look where his feet go, I will bring you a white rabbit with real velvet ears tomorrow.' But I didn't want the rabbit, Mama. I wanted the man with the cold eyes to see that the lady was holding hands with a monster. Monsters aren't allowed to hold hands at weddings. My picture book says so."
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Clara’s blood ran cold. The gray-haired man—Julian Vance—hadn't been caught off guard by the child. He had used the child to deliver a message to Alessandro Moretti, using an innocent four-year-old messenger as a shield against immediate retaliation.
Before Clara could speak, the heavy oak door of the staff quarters rattled violently. Three loud, deliberate knocks shook the frame.
