Chapter 2 - THE MISSING GLASS
Camilla's smile lasted less than a second.
It was enough.
Enzo saw it.
Adeline saw it.
And across the ballroom, at least three people who had spent their lives reading dangerous rooms saw it too.
Camilla immediately turned toward her father.
Victor Ashford gave her no visible reaction.
That absence of reaction bothered Enzo more than panic would have.
“Matteo,” Enzo said.
“Yes.”
“Who can disable those cameras?”
“Five people have administrative access.”
“Names.”
“Me, you, the estate systems manager, the night security supervisor, and the outside contractor who installed the network.”
“Was the system shut down from the control room?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Find out.”
Matteo hesitated.
Enzo caught it immediately.
“What?”
“The systems manager left thirty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“He told the gate he had a family emergency.”
Enzo's expression did not change.
“Call him.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“His phone is off.”
Victor stepped forward.
“This is getting theatrical.”
Enzo turned to him.
“Your daughter beat an employee in my hallway after that employee removed a drink she believed had been tampered with.”
He pointed toward the dark security camera.
“Then the glass disappeared and the cameras failed.”
His eyes sharpened.
“If this feels theatrical to you, Victor, perhaps you know the script.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
Camilla moved closer to her father.
“You are humiliating us because of one desperate woman's accusation.”
Adeline flinched at the word desperate.
Enzo noticed that too.
He looked at her.
“Did you know Camilla before tonight?”
The question hit her harder than the crop had.
For one fraction of a second, Adeline froze.
Camilla's eyes narrowed.
Enzo's gaze stayed on Adeline.
“Answer me.”
Adeline looked at the two hundred guests.
Then at Victor.
Then at Camilla.
“No.”
It came too fast.
Enzo knew it.
Camilla knew it.
Adeline knew he knew it.
Enzo did not challenge her in front of the crowd.
Instead, he turned to Lucia.
“Take her to the library.”
Adeline shook her head.
“I can stay.”
“That was not a suggestion.”
Her chin rose.
“I am the one she attacked.”
“And that is exactly why you are leaving this hallway before someone decides a missing glass is not enough.”
The meaning sank in.
Adeline looked toward the dark camera again.
Lucia touched her elbow.
“Come on.”
Adeline followed reluctantly.
As she walked away, Enzo's coat still around her shoulders, Camilla watched every step.
The hatred in her eyes was no longer disguised.
Lucia led Adeline through a narrow corridor used by staff and into the old library at the east end of the mansion.
The room smelled of leather, cedar, and the faint smoke of a fireplace that had burned earlier in the evening.
Lucia closed the door.
“You knew her.”
Adeline turned.
Lucia did not wait for an answer.
“I have worked in wealthy houses for thirty-six years.”
She opened the medical kit.
“I know what a lie sounds like when it is told because someone is ashamed.”
She dabbed antiseptic onto the cut near Adeline's wrist.
“And I know what a lie sounds like when it is told because someone is afraid.”
Adeline winced.
“Which one was mine?”
“Afraid.”
Lucia wrapped the wound.
“Very afraid.”
Adeline looked down.
Lucia sat beside her.
“You do not have to tell me.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because if Camilla Ashford recognized you, you are already in more danger than you think.”
Adeline looked up sharply.
“You saw her recognize me?”
“I saw her stop breathing for half a second when Mr. Marchetti said your name.”
Lucia's expression tightened.
“I also saw her father look at you as if he had seen a ghost.”
Adeline's fingers curled into Enzo's coat.
She had spent eleven days convincing herself she could work inside the mansion unnoticed.
She had been wrong from the beginning.
“What are you doing here, Adeline?”
Adeline said nothing.
Lucia sighed.
“Whatever it is, hiding it from Enzo may be the fastest way to get yourself killed.”
Adeline's eyes flashed.
“I came here because of people like Enzo Marchetti.”
Lucia did not react with surprise.
That was worse.
“You think he is part of whatever happened to you.”
“I think powerful men protect one another.”
“Sometimes.”
“And when they don't?”
“They bury one another.”
Adeline looked toward the closed library door.
“Comforting.”
Lucia almost smiled.
“Truth rarely is.”
A knock sounded.
Both women went still.
Lucia crossed to the door but did not open it.
“Who is it?”
“Matteo.”
Lucia looked at Adeline.
Adeline nodded.
Lucia unlocked the door.
Matteo entered and closed it behind him.
His face was grave.
“Enzo wants to speak to Miss Croft privately.”
Adeline stood.
“Where?”
“His study.”
Lucia stepped between them.
“She is injured.”
“I can see that.”
“Then he can come here.”
Matteo's eyebrows rose.
Few people spoke about Enzo that way under his own roof.
Lucia did not care.
Matteo lowered his voice.
“He cannot leave the ballroom yet.”
“Why?”
“Because half the room is calling lawyers and the other half is pretending not to.”
Adeline removed the coat.
Lucia stopped her.
“Keep it on.”
“It is his.”
“That is why you should keep it on.”
Adeline understood the message.
As long as Enzo's coat was on her shoulders, anyone who considered touching her had to consider what it represented.
She followed Matteo out.
They passed two security officers at every intersection.
The mansion no longer felt like a party venue.
It felt like a sealed machine preparing for war.
When they reached the study, Matteo opened the door.
“Wait inside.”
Adeline entered.
The study was dark except for a lamp beside the desk.
She had never been inside before.
The walls were lined with books and framed photographs of three generations of Marchettis.
On the desk sat a silver picture frame.
A younger Enzo stood beside an older man with the same severe eyes.
Behind them was Antonio.
Adeline stepped closer.
Something in the background caught her attention.
A man stood near the edge of the photograph, almost cropped out.
He was thin, wore wire-rimmed glasses, and held a folder under one arm.
Adeline stopped breathing.
Her hand rose toward the frame.
The man in the photograph was her father.
Thomas Croft had been dead for nine years.
At least, that was what she had been told.
The study door opened behind her.
Adeline spun around.
Enzo entered alone.
His shirt sleeves were visible now without the jacket, making him look less formal and somehow more dangerous.
He closed the door.
Then he saw what she was holding.
His eyes moved from the photograph to her face.
“You lied to me.”
Adeline set the frame down carefully.
“You asked if I knew Camilla.”
“And you said no.”
“I don't know her personally.”
Enzo walked to the desk.
“You recognized her.”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Adeline's pulse hammered.
“Before I answer that, tell me why my father is in this picture.”
Enzo's gaze sharpened.
“Your father?”
She pointed.
“Thomas Croft.”
For the first time since he had entered the corridor, Enzo looked genuinely stunned.
He picked up the frame.
His eyes settled on the man at the edge.
Then he looked at Adeline again.
“What was your father's full name?”
“Thomas Edward Croft.”
Enzo went very still.
Adeline saw recognition arrive.
“You knew him.”
Enzo placed the frame down.
“He worked for my father.”
Adeline's throat tightened.
“As what?”
“An accountant.”
“For how long?”
“Seven years.”
“Why didn't I know that?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened to him?”
Enzo's eyes stayed on hers.
“That is what I was about to ask you.”
“He died in a car accident.”
“When?”
“Nine years ago.”
Enzo looked back at the photograph.
“No.”
Adeline stared at him.
“What do you mean, no?”
“Thomas Croft did not die in a car accident nine years ago.”
Her face went pale.
Enzo stepped closer to the desk.
“He disappeared nine years ago.”
Adeline shook her head.
“I saw the death certificate.”
“I saw the internal investigation.”
“What investigation?”
“My father accused him of stealing from us.”
Adeline's eyes flashed.
“My father was not a thief.”
“I didn't say he was.”
“You just said your family accused him.”
“My father did.”
“And you believed him?”
Enzo's silence answered before his words did.
“At the time, yes.”
Adeline stepped back.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
“My brother spent years trying to prove our father was framed.”
Enzo looked at her sharply.
“You have a brother?”
“Daniel.”
“Where is he?”
Adeline laughed once without humor.
“That is why I am here.”
Enzo's expression changed.
“When did he disappear?”
“Four months ago.”
“After doing what?”
Adeline looked at the photograph of her father.
“Investigating the Ashford Foundation.”
Enzo said nothing.
Adeline continued.
“Daniel believed Victor Ashford had access to records connected to our father's death.”
“He was wrong.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know Victor did not know your father worked for us until tonight.”
Adeline looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
Enzo remembered Victor's expression when he saw her.
The certainty disappeared.
A soft electronic tone sounded from the wall panel beside the door.
Enzo pressed it.
Matteo's voice came through.
“We found the systems manager's car.”
“Where?”
“Two miles from the estate.”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“What did you find?”
Matteo paused.
“His phone.”
Enzo looked at Adeline.
“And inside the glove compartment, the missing champagne glass.”
Adeline felt cold.
Enzo's eyes hardened.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Matteo's voice lowered.
“A photograph of Miss Croft.”
Adeline's lips parted.
“What photograph?”
Matteo answered through the speaker.
“One taken outside this house three days before she applied for the maid position.”
Enzo asked Matteo to send the photograph to an isolated forensic workstation and search the image metadata before anyone circulated it internally.
Matteo nodded and left again.
Adeline remained beside the desk, staring at her own face inside the evidence bag.
She remembered the afternoon the photograph had been taken.
She had walked the perimeter twice because she was afraid applying for the job too quickly would look suspicious.
She had stopped at a coffee shop across the street and spent forty minutes watching delivery vans enter the service gate.
At the time, she believed she was observing the house.
Now she understood someone had been observing her.
“How many people knew you were applying?” Enzo asked.
“Two.”
“Names.”
“My landlord knew I needed work.”
“My brother's old friend, Nora, helped me create the employment history.”
Enzo looked at her sharply.
“Create?”
“Most of it was real.”
“Most?”
“I worked in hotels and private catering.”
“The last reference was arranged so I could get through your staffing agency.”
Enzo exhaled slowly.
“You falsified a reference.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought that detail could wait?”
“I thought my bleeding wrist had seniority.”
Antonio coughed to hide a laugh from the doorway.
Enzo gave his uncle a look.
Antonio lifted both hands.
“She has a point.”
Adeline did not smile.
She kept looking at the photograph.
“What if they knew exactly why I came?”
Enzo's expression changed.
“Then your eleven days here were not an infiltration.”
“What were they?”
“A test.”
The word settled uneasily.
Adeline pictured Camilla passing her in the dining room three nights earlier without acknowledging her.
She remembered Victor visiting Enzo's office and glancing at the staff corridor.
She remembered Owen, the guard, asking casually whether she liked working nights.
Ordinary details rearranged themselves into something uglier.
Enzo picked up the photograph again.
“If someone knew who you were before you applied, then they may have wanted you inside this house.”
Adeline stared at him.
“And if that is true, I did not break into their plan.”
May you like
Enzo's voice was grim.
“You walked into it.”
