Chapter 5 - The Glass House
By 11:00 AM, the Northshore Medical truck never arrived at my house.
Instead, a sleek white van bearing the crest of St. Jude Medical Services pulled up to my mother's row house. Two professional medical technicians unloaded a state-of-the-art oxygen generation unit, four backup tanks, and a custom medical recliner.
Along with them came Nurse Evelyn—a kind, middle-aged woman with thirty years of respiratory care experience, hired to stay with my mother five days a week.
When I returned home at noon to pack my small bag of clothes for my new quarters at the Romano Estate, my mother was sitting comfortably in her new chair, breathing easily, her face pink with healthy oxygen flow.
"Clara," my mother whispered, holding my hand tightly as tears filled her eyes. "Who did this? How can we afford this?"
"It's a new job, Mom," I said softly, kissing her forehead. "I'm working as an estate manager for a logistics company. They cover family health benefits."
"Is it safe, sweetheart?" she asked, her mother's intuition catching the edge of anxiety I couldn't completely hide. "It happened so fast."
"It's safe," I lied gently. "I'm going to take care of everything now. You just rest."
Two hours later, a black sedan delivered me to the Romano Estate in Riverdale—a sprawling, stone mansion surrounded by twelve-foot security walls, high-definition cameras, and immaculate gardens overlooking the Hudson River.
It was a palace. And like all palaces owned by men like Alessandro Romano, it was a cage.
My office was located on the main floor, a spacious room with dark oak paneling, three computer monitors, and a leather armchair. My private living quarters were upstairs in the east wing—a bedroom larger than my entire row house, featuring a private bath, a king-sized bed, and windows looking out over the river.
Victor Russo met me in my new office at 3:00 PM, carrying four thick leather binders.
"These are the payroll records, vendor contracts, and security disbursements for the house," Victor said, dropping them onto my desk with a heavy thud. "Until now, these were managed by Alessandro's cousin, Dino Romano."
"Where is Dino now?" I asked, opening the first binder.
"Dino was skimming twelve percent off the security maintenance budget and blaming it on inflation," Victor said coldly. "Mr. Romano relieved him of his duties two hours ago."
I looked up from the page. "Relieved him how?"
Victor’s face remained an unreadable mask. "Dino is currently managing a gravel pit in upstate New York. He won't be returning to the estate."
I took a slow breath, feeling the heavy reality of the world I had just entered. This wasn't a corporate office. There were no human resources departments, no union representatives, no formal warnings. There was only Alessandro Romano's word, and the thin line between his generosity and his wrath.
I spent six hours going through the binders.
By 9:00 PM, I had uncovered seven duplicate invoices, three padded catering bills, and fifty-four thousand dollars in unexplained cash payments made to a local private security firm over the last three months.
I printed out my findings, flagged the errors with red tabs, and walked down the long, quiet hallway toward Alessandro's private study.
The heavy mahogany door was slightly ajar.
I reached out to knock, but stopped when I heard voices inside.
"...he's moving men into the docks near Pier 42," Victor's voice said from inside. "If Vance takes the shipping lanes, we lose thirty percent of our quarterly revenue."
"Vance is desperate," Alessandro's voice replied, quiet, sharp, and cold. "He thinks because I cancelled the Vale contract, I'm vulnerable. Let him bring his men to the docks, Victor. Set the perimeter. If Vance steps onto Pier 42, make sure he doesn't walk off it."
I stood frozen in the hallway, holding my folder against my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Violence. Real, ruthless, lethal violence.
I took a step back, intending to return to my office, but my foot caught the edge of a heavy persian runner.
The door swung fully open.
May you like
Alessandro was sitting behind his desk, a dark glass in his hand. His gaze snapped to the doorway, locking onto me instantly.
"Clara," he said.
