Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
Enzo didn't move as Adeline stepped back into the room. His gaze dropped to her exposed wrist, where the red welt peeked out from under her cuff, before rising to meet her eyes.
"Leave us, Adeline," Enzo said quietly.
"Master Marchetti," Adeline began, lowering her head, "I have duties in the pantry—"
"I said leave us," Enzo repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument, though his eyes remained fixated on his grandmother behind her. "Wait outside the door."
Adeline slipped past him into the quiet hallway, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind her.
Inside the room, Eleanor took a slow sip of her chamomile tea, completely unbothered by her grandson's sudden appearance. "You broke your own rule, Enzo. You don't come up to the third floor during social events."
"Who is she?" Enzo asked, walking over to the fireplace and looking down at the dying embers.
"A housekeeper," Eleanor said simply. "Recommended by the parish church in the West Ward. Her father was a bookkeeper for the old docks before he died."
"She didn't steal that glass," Enzo said, turning around. His dark eyes locked onto the small paper with the blue wax seal sitting beside her teacup. "And she didn't take those hits because she was sloppy."
Eleanor picked up the letter and dropped it into her lap, covering it with her cashmere shawl. "Camila is nervous, Enzo. The wedding is three weeks away, and she knows you don't love her. She’s asserting her dominance over the servants to convince herself she holds power in this house."
"Camila is a snake," Enzo said coldly. "She brought a riding crop into my hallway because she thought no one would stop her. But that girl... Adeline... she didn't look at Camila with fear. She looked at her like she was waiting for her to finish."
He walked over to the table and looked down at his grandmother. "What is she hiding for you, Grandmother?"
Eleanor lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with old steel. "This family was built on secrets, Enzo. Your father died leaving half of them unsaid, and you carry the rest on your shoulders. Do not pry into my quarter. The girl is loyal to me. That is all you need to know."
Enzo remained silent for a long moment. He reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a silver pocket watch, clicked it open, and closed it again with a sharp snap.
"If Camila touches her again," Enzo said softly, "I will end the engagement. Codicil or no codicil."
Eleanor’s breath caught slightly. "The Ashford alliance protects our northern transit lines—"
"I don't care about the transit lines," Enzo interrupted, his voice dropping into that chilling, quiet frequency that made full-grown syndicate bosses bow their heads. "I run this house. Not Camila. And not her father."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
In the hallway, Adeline was standing beside the window, looking out at the heavy rain falling over the estate gardens. She had pulled her sleeves down completely, resting her hands against the cold glass pane.
Enzo stopped beside her. The scent of rain and cedar returned to her senses.
"Your arms," Enzo said.
"They are fine, sir," Adeline replied, keeping her gaze fixed on the window. "Mrs. Gable has salve in the kitchen."
"Look at me," he commanded.
Adeline took a slow breath, turned her head, and met his eyes. Up close, his dark eyes held a dangerous, searching intensity—the look of a man accustomed to deciphering lies in seconds.
"You took three blows for a woman who wouldn't hesitate to replace you tomorrow," Enzo said, stepping closer until she was caught between him and the window frame. "Why?"
"I took an oath when I took this job, Mr. Marchetti," Adeline said evenly. "To do my work, protect the dignity of this house, and keep my mouth shut. I don't break my word."
Enzo stared at her face—the smooth line of her jaw, the complete absence of fear in her expression, the quiet defiance that burned behind her pale eyes.
"You're either the most honest woman in Chicago," Enzo said quietly, "or the most dangerous."
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"I'm just a maid, sir," Adeline said softly.
Enzo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against her torn sleeve, just above the bandage. "Not anymore," he whispered. "Starting tomorrow, you answer directly to me."
