Chapter 2 - The Security Breach and the Suspicious Shoes
By midnight, Dominic Moretti’s mansion no longer resembled the place where an eight-year-old boy had celebrated his birthday.
The balloons were still tied to the marble columns. Silver ribbons still hung from the chandeliers. Half-opened gifts remained stacked beside the fireplace.
But every exterior gate had been locked.
Every employee had been ordered to remain inside.
And every smile had disappeared.
I sat in the staff kitchen with Lily asleep across my lap, one cheek pressed against my chest. Her little white sneakers were dusty from running across the ballroom earlier, when she had knocked Ethan’s plate away before he could take the first bite.
That single act had saved him from a concentrated allergen deliberately rubbed into his frosting.
Someone had tried to kill Dominic Moretti’s son.
And my three-year-old daughter had seen him.
The kitchen door opened.
Dominic entered with Vincent Russo, his longtime security chief, and two guards.
“Maria,” Dominic said quietly. “I need Lily to look at something.”
“She’s exhausted.”
His gaze dropped to her sleeping face.
“I know.”
For once, the feared Dominic Moretti sounded almost apologetic.
“But she may be our only witness.”
I gently woke Lily.
Her blue-gray eyes fluttered open.
“Mommy?”
“You’re okay, sweetheart.”
Then she noticed Dominic.
“Is Ethan sick?”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“He’s safe.”
“Because the bad cake fell?”
“Because you made it fall.”
Lily considered that seriously.
Then Dominic placed six photographs on the table.
“These men worked near the kitchen today. Did you see any of them in the cold room?”
Lily studied each picture.
One chef.
Two delivery workers.
A florist.
A dishwasher.
A maintenance technician.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Vincent exhaled.
“She’s three years old, Dom. Memory at that age isn’t reliable.”
Lily suddenly looked down.
Then she pointed.
“Shoes.”
Everyone became still.
“What about the shoes?” I asked.
“The man had shiny shoes.”
Vincent gave a small laugh.
“Half the house wore formal shoes tonight.”
“No.”
Lily frowned at him.
“His shoes had red.”
The laughter disappeared from Vincent’s face.
Dominic lowered his eyes.
Near Vincent’s right heel was a thin streak of crimson paint.
Almost invisible.
Almost.
One of the guards looked toward Dominic.
“The cold-room threshold was repainted yesterday,” he said.
“Red?”
“Yes, sir.”
Vincent took one step backward.
“This is absurd.”
Dominic did not move.
“Where were you at four seventeen this afternoon?”
“Checking perimeter cameras.”
“Which cameras?”
“The west grounds.”
“Alone?”
Vincent hesitated.
Only a fraction of a second.
But Dominic Moretti noticed fractions.
“Vincent.”
“You cannot seriously be taking the word of a toddler over mine.”
May you like
Dominic’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“I’m taking the word of the child who saved my son.”
