Chapter 3 - Shadows in the West WingThe west wing of the Rinaldi mansion felt less like a living space and more like a luxury hotel suite frozen in time.
High vaulted ceilings, deep velvet drapes, and antique furnishings lined the corridors. Mrs. Chen had unlocked the double doors to a sprawling suite featuring a plush master bedroom, an adjoining room for seven-year-old Lucia, and a private marble bathroom.
“Mr. Rinaldi spares no expense for those he employs,” Mrs. Chen said, setting a stack of fresh linens on the edge of the king-sized bed. She paused, her expression softening slightly in the dim lamplight. “Though few stay long enough to unpack their bags. Be careful, Ms. Valente. The boys are only part of the puzzle.”
“What do you mean?” Serena asked, folding her worn jacket and placing it carefully inside an enormous mahogany wardrobe.
“The house has ears, and Vittorio has enemies who consider his home a chessboard,” Mrs. Chen murmured, glancing toward the tall French doors that opened onto a moonlit balcony. “The previous nanny didn’t run because of a spilled box of cereal. She found something in Mr. Rinaldi’s private study—something she wasn't supposed to see.”
Before Serena could press for details, a soft knock echoed at the suite door.
Mrs. Chen opened it to reveal Leo.
The six-year-old stood in the hallway wearing oversized dinosaur pajamas, clutching a battered, leather-bound children's book against his chest. He looked past the housekeeper, locking his dark eyes onto Serena.
“You’re supposed to read us a bedtime story,” Leo said, his voice small, lacking the defiant edge of his older brothers. “The rules say the nanny reads.”
Serena looked at Mrs. Chen, who gave a subtle, encouraging nod before slipping out into the corridor, closing the door quietly behind her.
“I’d love to, Leo,” Serena said, walking over and kneeling down to his eye level. “Lead the way.”
The boys’ quarters were located at the opposite end of the west wing, a massive interconnected playroom flanked by four small bedrooms. Julian, Marco, and the twins were already in their beds, feigning sleep with varying degrees of success.
As Serena sat in a plush armchair beneath a glowing reading lamp, Leo climbed up beside her, resting the heavy book across her knees.
It was a collection of classic fairy tales, but as Serena opened the cover, a folded piece of heavy cardstock slipped out from the pages and fluttered down onto her lap.
She picked it up.
It was a photograph.
Not of a fairy tale, but of Elena Rinaldi, standing in this exact room, smiling warmly at the camera. But what made Serena’s breath catch in her throat wasn’t Elena—it was the man standing right beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist.
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It wasn’t Vittorio.
It was Daniel—Serena’s ex-husband.
