Chapter 2
The heavy mahogany doors leading from the grand foyer swung open, and Sophie Reed stepped into the bright, luminous salon. At twenty-five, the housemaid possessed a breathtaking, gentle beauty with delicate features and incredibly expressive eyes. Tonight, she wore her fitted black maid dress with a pristine white collar and cuffs. Her white apron was lightly creased from hours of work, and a few loose strands of dark hair framed her face, falling from beneath her white ruffled maid headband.
Sophie moved with a quiet, observant manner, her flat shoes making absolutely no sound against the cream marble. She carried a silver tray of empty champagne flutes, navigating the narrow spaces between the burgundy velvet sofas. Her heart hammered a frantic, terrifying rhythm against her ribs, but she kept her gaze carefully lowered. She had noticed the tension in the household since Gareth's mother, Esther, had supposedly departed for a private wellness clinic three weeks ago. Vivian had assured Gareth it was for the older woman's health, but the staff whispered about strange noises and missing food.
"Sophie, clear the glasses from the senator's table," hissed Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, stepping forward near the fireplace. "Miss Arden is watching. She will have you thrown out into the snow if the salon isn't spotless."
"I am on my way, Mrs. Gable," Sophie whispered, her voice steady despite the anxiety twisting in her stomach.
"You have to survive tonight, child," the older woman pleaded, giving her a gentle, sympathetic look. "Just keep your head down and do your job."
Sophie took a shuddering breath, forcing her trembling legs to move forward. She approached the grand fireplace, stepping directly into the bright, cinematic circle of the chandeliers, completely bypassing the capos and politicians.
As she neared the roaring fire, she noticed Finn standing by the massive evergreen garlands that draped heavily across the gilded wall panels. The six-year-old boy was staring intently at a specific section of the wall, holding his crumpled piece of paper.
Sophie stopped beside him, lowering her tray. She looked down at the boy, her expressive eyes softening with genuine affection.
"What do you have there, Finn?" Sophie asked softly, making sure not to startle him.
Finn looked up, his young face filled with absolute, innocent sincerity. He unrolled the paper, revealing a simple crayon drawing of a large, square window with bright yellow sunlight shining through it. There was no writing, just the earnest artwork of a child.
"It's for Grandma," Finn stated matter-of-factly.
Sophie’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "Your grandma is away at a special clinic, sweetie. She is resting."
"No, she isn't," Finn replied, shaking his head. "Auntie Vivian said Grandma needed a quiet room. She's right behind there." He pointed a small finger directly at the thick evergreen garlands concealing the edge of a narrow wall panel. "I slide my pictures under the door sometimes."
A jolt of pure, unadulterated horror struck Sophie's chest. The rumors among the staff, the missing food, the sudden disappearance—it all snapped into a terrifying, undeniable reality. The mafia boss's mother wasn't in Switzerland. She was locked inside the walls of her own home.
Before Sophie could fully process the implication, she heard the distinct click of high heels approaching on the marble floor. Vivian Arden glided into the immediate, bright circle of the fireplace, her emerald satin gown shimmering in the candlelight.
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"What are you doing over here, Finn?" Vivian asked, her voice dripping with a condescending, dismissive sweetness that didn't mask the sharp edge underneath.
Sophie instinctively stepped back, but she did not leave. Her expressive eyes locked onto the concealed wall panel, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm. She had to know if the child was telling the truth.
