Chapter 3 - THE FOUR HEIRESSES
By morning, news of the gala incident had spread through New York's elite circles like wildfire. The headline in the society papers was brutal: The Glass Princess Shattered: DeLuca Heir Rejects Moretti Empire for Hotel Maid.
Inside the luxurious penthouse suite of the Grand Plaza, the remaining four heiresses sat around a glass table, their faces grim.
"It's an absurdity," Camille Laurent spat, sipping her espresso. "The DeLucas are traditional. Vittorio will never allow him to marry a girl who smells like dish soap."
"You didn't see his face," Sofia Bellini countered, her manicured nails tapping nervously against her porcelain saucer. "He looked at her like he wanted to burn the hotel down when Isabella stepped on her foot. I've known Matteo for five years—he has never looked at any of us like that."
"Then we make sure he sees what she really is," Vivienne Cross said coldly, adjusting her silk scarf. "Every girl who works in a hotel like the Belladonna has secrets. Debts, illegal family ties, stolen items. We dig until we find something that makes Matteo throw her back into the gutter."
Elena Rossi, the youngest, stayed quiet, staring at her phone. "And what if she doesn't have secrets? What if she's actually as innocent as she looks?"
"Nobody in New York is innocent," Camille snapped. "Especially not a girl who manages to capture the eye of a DeLuca."
Meanwhile, back at the Belladonna suite, Clara was trying to put on her shoes.
"You can't walk on that foot yet," Matteo said, stepping out of his dressing room in a dark grey suit, buttoning his cuffs.
"I have a shift at two o'clock," Clara said, wincing as her foot touched the floor. "And I need to check on my brother, Leo. He's alone at our apartment."
Matteo picked up his phone and made a brief call. "Your shifts at the hotel have been canceled. You've been placed on paid administrative leave for six months."
Clara stood up on one foot, glaring at him. "You can't just alter my life without asking me! I don't take charity, Matteo!"
"It's not charity. It's a security protocol," Matteo said, walking over until he was standing directly in front of her. "My driver, Marcus, has already brought your brother to a private clinic uptown. He's receiving his treatments, and he's guarded by three of my best men."
Clara froze. "You moved my brother?"
"He's safe, Clara," Matteo said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "The Moretti family sent two men to your apartment building three hours ago. If your brother had been there, he would be dead or hostage right now."
Clara's breath hitched. The reality of the world she had suddenly been dragged into crashed over her like cold ocean water.
"Why are you doing all this for me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We don't know each other."
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Matteo leaned in close, his lips almost touching hers. "Because twenty-four hours ago, I thought everyone in this city had a price. Then you looked at me like I was just a man—not a fortune, not a title, not a killer."
He stepped back, offering her his hand. "Come with me. It's time you met the rest of the family."
