Chapter 3 - The Midnight Access
|
By morning, the tension in the Bellucci estate was suffocating.
I woke up early, ensuring Lily was dressed and safely on the school bus before my shift officially began. I was assigned to clean the master wing—a job that required discretion, silence, and meticulous attention to detail.
I expected to be fired. I waited for Enzo, the estate manager, to hand me my final paycheck. But the morning progressed without a word.
At 10:00 AM, I entered Damian’s private study to dust the bookshelves. It was a massive, imposing room filled with leather-bound books, antique maps, and a heavy mahogany desk.
Damian was not in the room. He had left for a meeting at the shipyards.
As I wiped down the polished wood of his secondary desk—a smaller workstation he used for reviewing digital security logs—I noticed the shredder bin was full. A piece of paper had missed the bin, resting face-up on the carpet.
I bent down to pick it up.
It was a printed access log from the estate’s internal security system. My eyes scanned the lines of code and timestamps automatically.
My blood ran completely cold.
03:14 AM - User: S_Vale - Access Granted: Private Study.
03:17 AM - User: S_Vale - Access Denied: Subterranean Vault.
03:22 AM - User: S_Vale - Access Granted: Private Study Exit.
I stared at the paper. Selene Vale.
She had sworn to Damian, in front of the entire staff during a brief security meeting a month ago, that she never entered his private workspaces. She had claimed she respected his boundaries as a syndicate boss perfectly.
Yet here was absolute, undeniable proof that the future Mrs. Bellucci was creeping into his study in the dead of night, actively trying to breach the subterranean vault where he kept the family’s most sensitive ledgers.
I folded the piece of paper and slipped it into the pocket of my apron.
This wasn't just a snooping fiancée. This was corporate espionage. Selene’s father was a major player in the city’s logistics network. He was supposed to be an ally, but in the mafia, alliances were only as strong as the secrets you could steal.
May you like
I had a choice. I could throw the paper into the shredder and pretend I never saw it, protecting myself from the violent politics of the syndicate.
Or I could use it.
