Chapter 2 - The Third Floor
By five in the morning, the estate had returned to its eerie, pristine quiet.
Ivy walked up the sweeping marble staircase toward the third floor, holding the heavy silver key tightly in her hand. Her body ached in places she hadn't realized were bruised. Her neck was throbbing, and her split lip stung with every breath, but the terror that had consumed her for months was beginning to recede, replaced by an overwhelming, disorienting exhaustion.
The third floor was territory no staff member entered without explicit orders. It was Carmine’s private sanctuary—a sprawling suite of rooms guarded by heavy mahogany doors and state-of-the-art security keypads.
Ivy approached the massive double doors at the end of the long, carpeted corridor. She inserted the silver key into the lock. It turned with a smooth, heavy click.
The master suite was staggering.
Soft, warm light filtered from subtle recessed fixtures, highlighting rich leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and dark hardwood floors covered by Persian rugs. A faint scent of cedar, fine tobacco, and expensive cologne hung in the air.
To the right was a set of carved wooden doors leading to a spacious guest bedroom. Inside, a king-sized bed was made with crisp white linen sheets. A private bathroom featured a clawfoot tub and fresh, plush towels stack neatly on a marble counter.
Ivy stood in the center of the bedroom, feeling completely out of place in her stained, torn maid’s uniform. She walked over to the large bay window that overlooked the manicured gardens at the back of the estate.
In the distance, down by the edge of the dark woods near the service road, she saw two black SUVs idling in the misty morning fog. Men in dark coats were loading heavy equipment into the back of one vehicle before driving away silently into the trees.
She closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer for her mother, and finally allowed her tears to fall—not tears of pain, but of profound, overwhelming relief.
For the first time in three years, she didn't owe anyone a single penny. She wasn't hunted. She was safe.
She showered, washing away the smell of the basement kitchen and the lingering ghost of Rocco’s cheap whiskey. Wrapped in a plush bathrobe she found in the closet, she collapsed onto the soft bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke up at eleven in the morning to the soft sound of a silver tray being set on the bedside table.
Ivy sat up instantly, pulling the duvet to her chest, her heart spiking.
Carmine was standing beside the bed. He had changed into a tailored charcoal suit, his tie neatly knotted, looking entirely like the powerful businessman the world believed him to be.
On the tray was a pot of fresh coffee, a plate of warm pastries, sliced fruit, and an ivory envelope.
“Good morning, Ivy,” Carmine said quietly.
“Sir! I... I’m sorry, I overslept!” Ivy stammered, scrambling to sit up higher. “I should be downstairs cleaning—”
“You are off duty today,” Carmine stated, sitting down in the armchair near the window. “And likely for the rest of the week.”
He pointed at the ivory envelope on the tray.
“Gideon processed your paperwork at six fifteen this morning,” Carmine explained. “The fifty-two thousand dollars has been wired directly to the collection agency. The debt is fully settled, and a letter of confirmation is inside that envelope.”
Ivy stared at the envelope, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the heavy paper. She opened it and scanned the official document stamped PAID IN FULL.
Tears welled in her eyes once more. “I don't know how to thank you, Mr. DeLuca. I... I can work off the amount over time. I’ll stay as long as you need me—”
“I told you last night,” Carmine cut her off, his voice firm but devoid of anger. “It was not a loan. It was restitution. You owe me nothing.”
He leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
“However,” Carmine added, “our situation has complicated things.”
Ivy froze. “Complicated?”
“Rocco was not just a loose cannon,” Carmine said, his tone turning grave. “He was leaking information about my shipping routes to the Moretti family—our rivals in East Nashville. When I confronted him last night, he admitted he was planning to kidnap you from your apartment this Friday to use as leverage against me.”
Ivy’s blood ran cold. “Leverage? Why would he use me against you? I’m just a maid!”
May you like
Carmine’s gaze intensified, a subtle flame flickering in the depths of his dark eyes.
“Because Rocco noticed something that I tried very hard to hide,” Carmine murmured softly. “He noticed that for the past three months, I have spent every night working late in my study... just to watch you walk through the gardens.”
