Chapter 7 - The Wrath of Moretti
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A heavy, suffocating silence filled the bedroom. The accusation hung in the air like a guillotine blade ready to drop.
Vanessa snapped her head toward the bed, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “You’re confused, Sofia. You don't know what you're saying.”
Sofia stared back at the woman who had tormented her for half a year. “No.”
That single, definitive word carried more strength and absolute certainty than anything the paralyzed young woman had managed to say in weeks. It was a complete rejection of the gaslighting she had endured.
Vanessa looked toward Mia, searching the maid's stoic face for a weakness, then looked frantically toward the bedroom door. For the first time that entire night, the untouchable mafia princess looked genuinely, desperately afraid.
Luca spoke again through the phone. “Vanessa.”
She flinched at the sound of her name. “Yes, Luca?”
“Stay exactly where you are.” His voice was almost gentle, a chilling contrast to the violence everyone knew he was capable of. That gentle tone made it infinitely worse. It was the calm before an absolute catastrophe.
“I’ll explain everything when you get here,” Vanessa said quickly, her voice trembling as she tried to maintain the illusion of control. “It’s just a massive misunderstanding.”
“I know you will,” Luca replied. The call abruptly ended, leaving a sharp, ringing silence in its wake.
Mia looked down at the darkened screen of her phone, then back up at Vanessa. Slowly, with shaking hands, Vanessa pulled the unmarked brown glass bottle from behind her back and placed it carefully on the polished wooden surface of the bedside table.
May you like
But as Vanessa stepped back, Sofia suddenly shifted her weight. She reached blindly beneath her silk pillow. Her weak, trembling fingers grasped something hidden deep inside the pillowcase and pulled out a small, worn, folded photograph.
She held it out toward Mia, her eyes silently begging the maid to take it.
