Chapter 5 - The Glass Trap
By seven in the evening, darkness had completely swallowed the estate. The storm outside had escalated, bringing severe thunder that shook the heavy leaded windows of the dining room.
In the staff wing, Clare was packing a small canvas bag with essentials for Lily: a warm blanket, a thermos of water, a flashlight, and Lily’s favorite drawing pads.
Lily sat on the edge of the bed, watching her mother with wide, anxious eyes. “Are we going to the safe room now, Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie,” Clare said, pulling a warm cardigan over Lily’s shoulders. “We’re going to play a game tonight. We’re going to stay in the quiet room until the storm passes.”
“Is Nero coming with us?”
“Nero has a very important job to do with Mr. Moretti tonight,” Clare explained gently. “But he’ll come find us as soon as he’s done.”
Just as Clare zipped the canvas bag, a soft knock sounded at the apartment door.
Clare’s body went rigid. She motioned for Lily to stay quiet, walked to the door, and looked through the brass peephole.
It was Marco Bellini.
He stood in the dimly lit hallway, wearing a dark raincoat over his suit, his right hand buried deep inside his coat pocket. His face was obscured by shadows.
Clare took a deep, steadying breath, unlocked the bolt, and opened the door a few inches, keeping her chain latch engaged.
“Mr. Bellini?”
Marco smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. “Clare. I noticed you were packing up in here.”
“I’m just getting extra blankets for the staff quarters, Mr. Bellini,” she said smoothly, keeping her voice completely level. “The heating in the east wing has been acting up since the technicians opened the wall panels.”
Marco’s eyes wandered past her shoulder, spotting Lily sitting on the bed. His smile tightened. “You shouldn't be wandering around the basement tonight, Clare. Things might get... complicated.”
“I have no intention of wandering around, Mr. Bellini,” she replied. “I’m taking care of my daughter.”
Marco leaned slightly closer to the narrow opening. “Dante trusts you, doesn't he? He doesn't trust many people lately.”
“Mr. Moretti employs me to run his house,” Clare said coldly. “Trust has nothing to do with it.”
Marco stared at her for three long seconds, evaluating her face, searching for any flicker of betrayal or fear. Clare met his gaze without flinching, holding her ground as she had done hundreds of times when dealing with arrogant men in her past life.
Finally, Marco backed away a step. “Just make sure you stay in your rooms after nine o’clock. For your own safety.”
“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Bellini,” Clare said, closing the door and sliding the bolt home.
Her hands were shaking as she turned back to Lily. Marco was already preparing for the strike. He was clearing the halls, making sure no innocent witnesses were caught in the crossfire when his mercenaries moved in during the midnight meeting.
She picked up the canvas bag and took Lily’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. We’re moving now.”
They slipped out through the rear kitchen service door, avoiding the main hallways. The mansion felt cold and eerie, echoing with the distant groans of old timber fighting the gale-force winds outside.
Clare led Lily down the narrow, spiral stone stairs that led into the deepest levels of the cellar—past the wine racks where Nero had first growled at the stone wall twenty-four hours earlier.
They reached the linen pantry—a small, windowless room filled with shelves of fresh sheets, towels, and tablecloths. Clare walked to the far corner, reached behind a heavy stack of wool blankets, and pressed a small, brass release button hidden inside the mahogany frame.
A heavy wooden section of the wall clicked open, revealing a steel-reinforced door behind it.
“Go inside, Lily,” Clare whispered, ushering her daughter into the warm, carpeted room lit by a battery-powered lamp. The safe room was stocked with emergency provisions, a communications radio, and medical supplies.
Lily stepped inside, but held onto Clare’s apron. “Aren't you coming in, Mom?”
Clare looked down at her daughter, then glanced back toward the dark wine cellar corridor. She heard a faint sound in the distance—the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots descending the main cellar stairs.
It was only ten-thirty.
Marco wasn't waiting for midnight. He was moving early.
And Dante was currently upstairs in his private library, entirely alone, believing he had until midnight to prepare his counter-trap.
“Mom?” Lily called out, her voice trembling.
Clare squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Stay inside, lock the door from the handle, and don't open it for anyone until I knock three times. Do you hear me, Lily? Three times.”
“Mom, please!”
Clare gently pulled her hand away, closed the steel safe room door, and listened as the heavy automatic lock clicked into place.
May you like
She turned around in the dark linen pantry, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She picked up a heavy iron candleholder from a side table, her knuckles turning white around the metal stem.
She couldn't let Dante walk into an ambush.
