Chapter 2
The ambient hum of the holiday reception flowed seamlessly around the room, but Sophie’s heart was hammering violently against her ribs. The clinking of crystal glasses and the sophisticated laughter of the guests felt entirely surreal compared to the horrifying secret she had just discovered. She paused near a polished walnut console, her fair hands trembling slightly as she adjusted her grip on the silver serving tray. Her breath hitched in her chest. She had been working the reception for hours, driven to the point of exhaustion, but her physical fatigue was nothing compared to the psychological terror gripping her mind.
"Are you quite alright to keep serving, Sophie?" a passing guest asked, noting the sudden paleness of the maid's fair, rosy skin.
"I am perfectly fine, sir," Sophie whispered, forcing a polite, submissive tone while suppressing her panic. "Thank you for asking. I just need to check the dessert station."
Sophie looked across the room. A few feet away, Bianca stood holding a glass of champagne. The fiancée’s diamond earrings caught the golden light as she commanded the attention of several lieutenants. Earlier that evening, Sophie had noticed Gideon’s mother, Eleanor, disappear from the festivities. When Gideon had inquired about her, Bianca had smoothly lied, claiming the elderly woman had grown tired and retired upstairs. But Sophie knew the truth. She had seen Bianca near the concealed wall rail beside the Christmas tree.
Suddenly, a small, cheerful voice broke through the tension. Three-year-old Toby Hale stepped out from behind a burgundy velvet sofa. The toddler was a vision of innocence, with round rosy cheeks, soft curls, and little dimples. He wore a cream reindeer sweater, red corduroy overalls, and miniature brown boots. He proudly held a plush snowman against his chest.
"Mommy Sophie!" Toby announced cheerfully, his young American accent breaking the silence with natural toddler pauses as he hugged her leg. "I heard the noise again!"
"Oh, Toby, hush," Sophie whispered frantically, dropping to her knees and gently cupping the boy's face. "We talked about this, sweetie. You have to keep your voice down. What noise did you hear?"
"The knocking," Toby pouted, pointing a small finger toward the large portrait beside the Christmas tree. "Behind the big picture."
"I know, sweetheart," Sophie said, her voice cracking with suppressed tears. "But you can't tell anyone yet."
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"Auntie Bianca said it's a ghost," Toby murmured, looking down at his miniature brown boots. "She said it's Nana's Christmas ghost and I have to ignore it."
The words dropped into the immediate vicinity like a live explosive charge. Sophie's blood ran cold. Bianca had not only locked the mafia boss's mother away, but she was actively manipulating the mind of his toddler son to cover her tracks. Sophie knew she had to expose the truth tonight, no matter the deadly consequences.
