Chapter 2 - THE ENEMY UNDER THE ROOF"Elena," Lorenzo breathed, his voice dropping an octave into a tone so cold it could have frozen molten steel.
From the shadows of the arched staircase stepped Elena Rossi—Lorenzo’s sophisticated, impeccably dressed sister-in-law, draped in a silk robe, a diamond-encrusted champagne flute resting casually in her manicured hand. Her lips curled into a sweet, poisonous smile that didn't reach her calculating eyes.
"Hello, brother-in-law," Elena purred, taking a slow sip of her drink. "I must admit, I underestimated the little cleaning girl. I thought she’d just be another useless statistic in the nursery. But she had to go playing wet nurse, didn't she?"
"You," Lorenzo stepped forward, the barrel of his gun shifting effortlessly from the empty hallway to center precisely on Elena’s chest. "You poisoned my son."
"Poisoned? Such an ugly word," Elena scoffed, rolling her eyes as if Lorenzo were merely complaining about the weather. "I simply helped nature along. That brat of yours was never meant to inherit the Rossi empire. Not when my precious Julian is the true heir."
My breath caught in my throat. Julian. Elena’s nine-year-old son, who lived down the hall, wrapped in luxury and privilege.
"You added something to his donor milk and specialized formulas," I blurted out, stepping into the dim light beside Lorenzo, shielding Leo with my body. "The night nurse wasn't just a heavy drinker—you paid her, or drugged her, to look the other way while you slipped toxins into his bottles."
Elena’s gaze snapped to me, a flash of pure venom replacing her bored facade. "Shut your mouth, trash. You’re nothing more than a glorified scrub-woman living on charity. You think Lorenzo will believe a penniless maid over his own family?"
"I don't need to believe her, Elena," Lorenzo’s voice was terrifyingly calm. He cocked the hammer of his gun. "I saw the vial by the door. And more importantly... my son is alive in her arms."
Elena’s face twisted in sudden panic. She took a sharp step backward, her hand flying behind her back toward the heavy draperies flanking the staircase. "You wouldn't dare shoot me, Lorenzo. The commission would tear you apart. The alliance with the Sicilian syndicate depends on family unity!"
"The syndicate can burn to ash," Lorenzo growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "No one touches my blood."
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Click.
It wasn't a gun. It was the distinct sound of a heavy metal security gate sliding down from the ceiling at the opposite end of the corridor, plunging us into a sudden, barricaded cage.
