Chapter 2 - THE SNAKE IN THE MARBLE
The drive from downtown Chicago to the Verona estate in Lincoln Park usually took twenty-five minutes.
Emilio made it in nine.
His dark gray armored Mercedes-Maybach tore through the rainy evening streets like a missile, running red lights, mounting curbs, and forcing taxis onto the sidewalks. Beside him, his chief of security and long-time enforcer, Marco Vance, held onto the passenger door handle with a white-knuckled grip.
Marco was forty-five, a hulking man covered in scars from the syndicate wars of the early 2000s. He had served Emilio’s father and was one of the few men in the city who could speak to Emilio without permission.
"Boss, slow down!" Marco barked over the roar of the twin-turbo V12 engine. "What the hell happened? Did Kowalski hit the house?"
"Kowalski didn't hit the house," Emilio snarled, his eyes fixed on the rain-slicked asphalt ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "The snake was already inside."
"What are you talking about?"
"Regina," Emilio spat, the name feeling like poison on his tongue. "She lied, Marco. About everything. About Julieta. About the bruise. She’s trying to frame the girl. She smashed a crystal vase right next to the twins' heads five minutes ago."
Marco blinked, stunned. "Miss Ashford? But why? She’s about to marry into the most powerful family in the state. Why target a nanny?"
"Because Julieta sees through her," Emilio said, his voice dropping into a register so dark it chilled the air inside the luxury car. "Because Julieta loves my children, and Regina looks at them like dynamic liabilities. Regina wants complete control over my household, my assets, and my life. She knew that as long as someone genuine was watching Noah and Gianna, she couldn't manipulate them."
He executed a violent, fifty-mile-an-hour drift around a corner, the tires screaming against the wet pavement, and slammed through the massive iron gates of the Verona estate.
The estate was a sprawling, three-story French Renaissance manor set on four private acres surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls and armed security posts.
Emilio slammed the Maybach to a halt on the gravel driveway, tossed the keys onto the dashboard, and threw his door open before the engine had even stopped idling.
"Marco," Emilio commanded as he stormed up the grand stone steps. "Lock down the perimeter. No one leaves this property. Not Regina, not her driver, not her staff. If anyone tries to cross the gates, shoot their tires out."
"Understood, boss."
Emilio slammed open the double mahogany front doors of the mansion.
The grand foyer was warm, lit by a massive crystal chandelier that cast gold light over the sweeping marble staircases. But the silence inside the house was heavy, suffocating.
From the east wing—toward the family room—he heard Regina’s voice, elevated, dramatic, and theatrical.
"I tried to reason with her, Emilio!" Regina was shouting, clearly speaking into her cell phone, assuming Emilio was still in his office down town. "She went crazy! She threw a vase at me! She's holding a piece of glass right now—I'm terrified for the babies! You need to come home with your men right now!"
Emilio walked smoothly down the long, carpeted hallway. His dress shoes made no sound against the runner. His face was entirely devoid of emotion—a mask of pure, crystalline ice that he only wore when he was preparing to end a man's life.
He reached the arched doorway of the family room and stepped inside.
The scene was exactly as it had been on his monitor.
Water and broken crystal covered the white marble. Julieta was sitting on her heels on the rug, her back turned to Regina, using her own hands to wrap a velvet throw blanket around the weeping twins, humming softly to drown out Regina’s screaming voice. Her fingers were bleeding slightly where a tiny splinter of glass had cut her palm, but she ignored it completely.
Regina stood five feet away, holding her phone to her ear, tears streaming down her contoured cheeks—tears produced on command, flawless and fake. She had pulled the shoulder of her silk dress down, creating a fresh, red scrape on her collarbone with her own manicured nails to manufacture new evidence.
"Emilio, please! She's coming toward me—" Regina gasped into her phone.
"I'm right here, Regina," Emilio said softly from the doorway.
Regina froze.
She spun around, her phone slipping from her fingers and clattering onto the marble floor. Her eyes widened in genuine shock. She hadn't expected him to arrive for at least twenty minutes.
"E-Emilio!" she stammered, instantly adjusting her posture, rushing toward him with her arms outstretched, her face twisted in a tragic display of terror. "Oh thank God you're here! She's lost her mind! Look at what she did to the room! Look at my neck—she attacked me when I tried to check on Noah and Gianna!"
Emilio didn't open his arms. He didn't move an inch. He stood like a stone column, staring down at her as she threw her arms around his waist.
"Are you hurt, my love?" Emilio asked. His voice was unnaturally quiet, entirely flat.
"Yes! She shoved me into the wall! She smashed Catherine's favorite vase!" Regina sobbed against his chest, her face buried in his lapel. "You have to get rid of her, Emilio! Have Marco take her away tonight! She's dangerous! She's working for Kowalski—I know it!"
Across the room, Julieta didn't try to defend herself. She slowly stood up, cradling Noah against her shoulder while holding Gianna’s small hand. She looked at Emilio with a quiet, profound sadness—not for herself, but for him. She looked at him like a woman who pitied a king trapped in a palace of lies.
"Is this true, Julieta?" Emilio asked over Regina’s shoulder, his eyes fixed on the nanny. "Did you attack my fiancée?"
Julieta took a soft breath. "No, Mr. Verona. I did not."
"She's lying!" Regina shrieked, turning her head to glare at Julieta. "Look at the floor! Look at the blood on her hands! She's a liar and a thief!"
"Regina," Emilio said softly.
"What, darling?"
Emilio reached down, took Regina by the shoulders, and gently, firmly pushed her back until she was standing three feet away from him.
"When did I install the new security system in this room?" he asked.
Regina blinked, thrown off by the question. "What? Last night... you said you put the cameras in last night."
"Do you know where the main feed goes?" Emilio continued, his voice smooth as silk, terrifyingly calm. "It doesn't store on a local hard drive in the basement, Regina. It streams directly to a secure, encrypted cloud server accessible only from my personal phone and my desktop at the tower."
Regina’s face lost a fraction of its color. "Emilio... why are you talking about cameras right now? We need to call the police—"
"I’ve been sitting in my office for the last hour, Regina," Emilio interrupted, stepping closer to her. "I watched the live stream."
The room went completely, terrifyingly quiet.
The fake tears on Regina’s cheeks seemed to freeze in place. The color drained from her lips until she looked like a ghost under the crystal chandelier.
"You... you watched?" she whispered.
"I watched everything," Emilio said, his dark gray eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her take a involuntary step backward. "I watched you walk into this room like you owned it. I watched you deliberately pick up Catherine's vase and smash it beside my children's heads. I watched you threaten to have Julieta thrown into the river. And I watched you drag your own nails across your neck to forge a scrape."
Regina’s breath hitched. She stumbled over her crimson dress, her heels catching on the rug. "Emilio... no... you miscalculated... you didn't see—"
"I saw the bruise on your arm from yesterday too," Emilio whispered, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. "The one you used to make me humiliate an innocent woman. You made it yourself, didn't you? With a brass paperweight or a door frame."
"Emilio, listen to me!" Regina gasped, her voice losing its polished aristocratic accent, becoming sharp and panicked. "I did it for us! That girl... she’s a distraction! You look at her differently! You’ve been looking at her for weeks! You don't look at me the way you look at her!"
Emilio went rigid. "What did you just say?"
"You think I'm stupid?" Regina snapped, her terror morphing into ugly, desperate rage. "You sit at dinner with me and talk about politics and business, but when that pathetic little maid walks into the room with your kids, your whole body shifts! You were soft on her! I had to get rid of her before she took my place!"
Emilio stared at her in utter disgust.
He didn't yell. He didn't raise a hand. He simply turned his head toward the door.
"Marco," Emilio called out.
Marco Vance stepped into the family room, his massive frame filling the doorway, two armed guards standing behind him.
"Take Miss Ashford to her suite," Emilio commanded cold. "Collect every piece of jewelry, every dress, and every card I have ever given her. Strip her of her phone, her keys, and her purse. Place her under house arrest in the west wing until I decide what to do with her father."
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"You can't do this to me!" Regina screamed as Marco stepped forward and grabbed her firmly by the arms. "My father is a supreme court justice! He’ll destroy you! The federal grand jury will hear about everything you’ve done in this city! Emilio! RELEASE ME!"
Marco dragged her out of the room, her red heels scraping against the marble, her screeching echoes fading down the long hallway until a heavy door slammed shut, restoring silence to the house.
