Chapter 3 - Ghosts in the Kitchen
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The sun rose over the Caruso estate, painting the sky in shades of pale violet and gold. Down in the main kitchen, the smell of fresh coffee and toasted bread filled the air, but the usual lively chatter among the domestic staff was absent.
Maria stood by the industrial stove, mechanically flipping pancakes. Her eyes were red and swollen.
She hadn't slept a wink.
“You should sit down, child,” Arthur said gently, placing a cup of chamomile tea beside her.
“I can’t, Mr. Bell,” Maria whispered, wiping her hands on her apron. “Mr. Caruso broke his engagement because of us. The entire city will be talking about it by noon. I should be looking for a new job.”
“If you try to leave, Nicholas will only bring you back,” Arthur replied with a faint smile. “I’ve known that boy since he was wearing knee-high pants. He doesn't act out of pity, Maria. He acts out of principle. You and Lucy are safe here.”
Before Maria could respond, the kitchen door swung open.
Nicholas entered, wearing a sharp charcoal suit, his dark hair neatly combed back. He looked completely unbothered by the scandal that was undoubtedly brewing outside his gates.
“Good morning, Arthur,” Nicholas said. “Maria.”
“Good morning, sir,” Maria said softly, dropping her gaze instantly. “I’m making breakfast.”
“Make enough for three,” Nicholas said. “You and Lucy will be eating with me in the dining room from now on.”
Maria dropped her spatula. It clattered loudly against the stove.
“Pardon me, Mr. Caruso?” she stammered. “That... that isn't proper. I’m the housekeeper.”
“You were the housekeeper,” Nicholas corrected her, leaning against the counter. “As of this morning, you are Lucy’s full-time guardian, and this house is your home. I’ve already assigned two extra guards to the front gate.”
Maria shook her head, confusion overwhelming her. “Why are you doing this for us? You don't even know who I really am.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I know enough. I know you work eighteen hours a day without complaining. I know you’d starve yourself to feed your daughter. And I know someone put a fear in your eyes long before Vivienne ever laid a hand on Lucy.”
Maria’s breath caught in her throat.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered.
Nicholas stepped closer, pulling a thin manila folder from inside his jacket and laying it on the island counter.
“I had my men run a background check on you when you applied four months ago,” Nicholas said coldly. “The identity papers you used were forged. Excellent quality, but fake nevertheless.”
Maria felt the blood drain completely from her face. She took a step back, her hands flying to her mouth.
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“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Don't hand us over to him.”
“To who, Maria?” Nicholas asked, his tone dropping an octave. “Who are you hiding from?”
