Chapter 4 - Shadows at the GateTwo days had passed since Delphine Ashworth’s abrupt and permanent departure from the Vance estate.
The atmosphere in the mansion had undergone a seismic shift. The other staff members—who had previously whispered behind Josephine’s back or left the heavy lifting for her to handle alone—now moved around her with exaggerated politeness, terrified of crossing the woman who had somehow bypassed the hierarchy of the underworld to become the most trusted confidante of Matteo Vance.
Josephine now resided in the luxurious second-floor suite, surrounded by silk sheets, walk-in closets filled with bespoke clothing Matteo had quietly ordered for her, and a private balcony overlooking the pristine gardens. Yet, despite the luxury, she still found herself sneaking down to the large country kitchen every morning to bake fresh pastries with Sofia.
"More chocolate chips, Jo!" Sofia demanded, standing on a sturdy stepstool with flour smeared across her nose like a war paint stripe.
"If we add any more chocolate, your dad is going to have us arrested for violating his dietary restrictions," Josephine laughed, dusting a handful of flour onto the little girl's button nose.
"Daddy likes chocolate!" Sofia protested, giggling. "I gave him a cookie yesterday and he ate the whole thing!"
"Did he now?" A deep, rich voice rumbled from the doorway.
Matteo stood leaning against the doorframe, wearing a charcoal dress shirt with the top two buttons open, his sleeves rolled up. He looked relaxed, though the faint shadows beneath his eyes reminded everyone that an empire like his never truly slept.
"Daddy!" Sofia squealed, hopping down from the stepstool and running over to wrap her arms around his knees.
Matteo scooped her up effortlessly, pressing a kiss to her dark curls. "What's this I hear about chocolate violations?"
"Jo said we're going to jail!"
"Is that true, Josephine?" Matteo raised an eyebrow, walking further into the kitchen and setting Sofia down on a stool. His dark gaze drifted over Josephine, taking in the way her new silk blouse fit her full curves, and the faint, fading yellow of the bruise on her cheek.
"Only if you testify against us, Mr. Vance," Josephine replied smoothly, plating a batch of warm, freshly baked cinnamon rolls.
"Never," Matteo said, his voice dropping an octave as he walked closer to the island, stopping just inches away from her. "I’ve spent my life surrounded by traitors, snitches, and liars. Testifying against the people who bring light into this house is against my religion."
The casual intimacy in his tone sent a warm shiver down Josephine’s spine. Before she could think of a witty reply, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion echoed with a loud, violent series of thuds.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The atmosphere in the kitchen instantly froze.
Sofia instinctively shrank back, grabbing the hem of Josephine’s apron.
Matteo’s expression didn't change, but his eyes hardened into chips of black obsidian. He turned his head toward the hallway.
"Rafael," Matteo called out.
From the shadows of the foyer, Rafael appeared instantly, his hand resting casually inside his jacket near his holster. "Already checked the cameras, boss. We got visitors."
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"Who?"
"Senator Thomas Ashworth," Rafael sneered, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. "And he brought four armed state troopers who think they’re serving a wellness check for his missing daughter."
