Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips
Victoria's hand paused inches from my cheek, her manicured nails gleaming under the crystal chandelier. She didn't strike me—not yet. Instead, she let out a low, mocking laugh, letting her hand drop back to her side with theatrical disdain.
"You think you're noble, don't you, Grace?" she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. "You think because you wipe their noses and bake them cookies, you belong in this family. Let me remind you of a very simple fact: you are paid to scrub floors and keep your mouth shut."
"I am paid to care for these children, and I will not watch them be mistreated," I replied, my voice holding firm despite the racing of my heart.
Victoria's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She stepped past me, her gaze locking onto Emma, who immediately lowered her chin, staring fixedly at the polished hardwood floor.
"Pick that up," Victoria ordered, pointing a sharp finger at Chloe's abandoned stuffed bunny across the room.
Chloe whimpered softly, a sound so fragile it tore at my chest. Without thinking, I moved to retrieve the toy, but Victoria's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with unexpected strength. Her grip was tight, nails biting into my skin.
"I didn't tell you to move, helpfully incompetent domestic," she hissed close to my ear. "I told her."
Emma flinched as Victoria's gaze snapped back to the eldest child. "Go on, Emma. Fetch your sister's dirty little toy. Or perhaps you'd prefer it if I threw it in the incinerator out back? Along with all those silly sketchbooks you spend your time on?"
The blood drained from Emma's face. Without a word, she stood up on trembling legs, walked across the expansive living room, picked up the worn rabbit plush, and brought it back, holding it out to Chloe with a heartbroken expression. Chloe buried her face in Emma's jacket, silently crying.
Victoria smiled, a cold, triumphant expression that twisted her otherwise striking features into something ugly. She smoothed the front of her designer blouse, looking around the room as if admiring her handiwork.
"This is how things will run from now on," Victoria announced loudly, ensuring every corner of the room heard her. "When Dante returns, he will see a well-behaved household. And you, Grace? By the time he gets back from New York, you won't even be here to witness it. I've already arranged your replacement."
She turned on her heel and glided toward the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous foyer. As she reached the first landing, she paused, looking down over the banister.
"Clean the sunroom by noon. And make sure those brats stay out of my way."
The heavy oak doors of the master suite upstairs slammed shut a moment later, sealing off the upper floor.
I immediately dropped to my knees, gathering both girls into my arms. Emma buried her face in my shoulder, while Chloe sobbed quietly, clutching the rescued bunny to her chest like a shield.
"Are you okay?" I whispered, stroking Emma's hair. "Did she... has she been doing this long?"
"Ever since father brought her to dinner three months ago," Emma whispered back, her voice shaking. "When he's here, she buys us gifts and uses that high voice. But the second he walks out that door... she changes. She told us if we told him, she would make sure we were sent away to a boarding school where we'd never see him again."
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Anger surged through me, hot and blinding. Dante Salvatore was a man feared by international crime syndicates, a ruthless tactician who controlled ports, shipping lanes, and half the financial district. Yet, right inside his own impenetrable fortress, a manipulative social climber was terrorizing his daughters.
What the girls—and Victoria—didn't know was that Dante Salvatore never left anything to chance. And neither did his security system.
