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The silver tray rattled slightly in Nina’s hands as she walked down the grand marble hallway of the Romano estate. It was barely 7:00 AM, but the house felt darker than it had at midnight. Sunlight struggled to breach the thick mahogany drapes, casting long, bruised shadows across the Persian rugs. / Chapter 6 / 8

Chapter 6 - The Trap ShutsNina felt as if ice water had been poured down her spine. "What? No! That's impossible! I don't even have a laptop in my room!"

Marcus showed the screen to Alexander. The log details clearly listed the device: a high-end encrypted laptop connected to the domestic quarters' Wi-Fi router.

"You set me up," Nina whispered, backing away toward the wall, looking at Marcus in sheer horror. "You... you were the one!"

"Be very careful what you say next, Nina," Marcus said smoothly, raising his gun slightly. "Alexander, I found this in her room during the search this afternoon while she was in the basement."

Marcus pulled a thick manila envelope from his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. Bank statements spilled out—showing offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands under the name Nina Whitmore, holding over two million dollars.

"She’s been selling your schedules to Moretti for six months," Marcus said. "The nursing school story, the sick mother—it was all a plant. She swapped the pills last night not to save you, but because Moretti changed the timeline, and she panicked when Castellano acted too early."

"No! Alexander, listen to me!" Nina cried out, tears streaming down her face. "I don't have any offshore accounts! I don't know anything about laptops! He’s lying! He’s the one who told me to 'trust my instincts' last night! He was testing me!"

Alexander looked down at the bank statements, then up at Nina. His face had turned into an impenetrable mask of granite. The warmth, the softness he had shown her moments ago evaporated into thin air.

"Alexander, please..." Nina sobbed.

"Marcus," Alexander spoke, his voice void of any human emotion. "Take her to the vault in the basement. Lock her in."

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The heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate hissed shut, sealing off the sprawling Westchester property from the outside world. Inside the main salon, the glittering chandeliers still cast a warm amber glow over the shattered porcelain of Ethan’s ruined birthday cake, but the festive atmosphere had been replaced by a suffocating, lethal silence.

The heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate hissed shut, sealing off the...

The heavy oak doors of the Westchester estate clicked shut, sealing out the damp autumn wind and the remaining murmurs of the panicked guests. Inside, the silence was absolute—a suffocating, heavy quiet that usually preceded a storm in the Moretti household. Dominic Moretti stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his private study, his silhouette framed against the pale moonlight. He hadn’t touched a drink, but his knuckles were stark white as they gripped the mahogany windowsill.

The heavy oak doors of the Westchester estate clicked shut, sealing out...

The sterile silence of the Moretti estate’s private chapel was shattered not by a prayer, but by the frantic, echoing ring of a burner phone. Lorenzo Moretti stood frozen in the dim candlelight, the heavy bronze key still cool and damning in his palm. Beside him, Sophia Hale clutched her trembling daughter, Lily,

The sterile silence of the Moretti estate’s private chapel was shattered...

"Alexander, no!" Nina screamed as Marcus grabbed her by the wrist, hauling her toward the door. "Look at the dates on those statements! Check the IP address! Please!"

Alexander turned his back to her, looking out at the rainy night through the broken window. "Lock her up. I will deal with the traitor myself in the morning."

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