politico

Chapter 3 - The Frame Unravels

Alessandro didn't immediately look down at the tablet Dom held out to him. Instead, his dark eyes remained pinned to Greta, watching the sweat break out in fine, glistening beads across her forehead. The silence in the great hall had evolved from a state of nervous tension into a suffocating, lethal weight.

"Show me," Alessandro commanded softly.

Dom stepped closer, tilting the high-resolution screen toward his master.

I remained on my knees, my arms wrapped securely around Mia, my chin resting on her soft hair. From my position, I could see the glow of the screen reflected in the polished brass buttons of Alessandro’s jacket.

On the screen, a crystal-clear video played in silence. The timestamp in the corner read Yesterday - 18:14:22. The camera angle showed the secondary corridor behind the display gallery—a private, low-traffic hallway where the staff lockers were located.

The video showed the corridor completely empty. Then, a figure appeared from the gallery service door.

It was Greta.

She was carrying a heavy velvet cloth wrapped around a bulky object. She walked quickly down the hall, looking over her shoulder twice to ensure the corridor was clear. She stopped directly in front of locker number twelve—my locker.

She reached into her apron pocket, pulled out the master brass ring containing the passkeys for every room and locker in the estate, and inserted the master key into my lock. The door swung open. Greta unwrapped the velvet cloth, revealing the gilded blue-sapphire antique clock, shoved it onto the top shelf beneath my winter coat, slammed the metal door shut, and locked it.

Before she turned to leave, the camera caught her face in full light—she was smiling a thin, triumphant smile.

The video looped, playing the sharp, clear sequence a second time.

Alessandro watched the playback once. Then twice. He didn't express anger. He didn't raise his voice or smash the screen. That was what made him so terrifying—his rage was not loud and frantic like Greta's; it was a cold, absolute glacier that flattened everything in its path.

He looked up from the tablet.

"Greta," he said, his voice dropping into a whisper that felt like a razor dragging across soft leather.

Greta’s knees visibly buckled. She reached out a hand, grasping the edge of a mahogany side table to keep herself from collapsing onto the floor. "Mr. Conti... sir... please... let me explain..."

"You framed a young mother," Alessandro said, taking one slow, deliberate step toward her. Nero, the Doberman, moved in perfect sync with his master, his black ears pinned back, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep inside his broad chest. "You placed an item worth three hundred thousand dollars into her locker, intending to hand her over to the authorities, knowing she would be sent to prison and her child would be placed in state custody."

"She was... she was disrespecting the chain of command!" Greta stammered, tears of sheer terror finally bursting from her eyes, ruining her heavy makeup. "She was lazy, sir! She was getting too close to the family quarters! I was protecting the order of this house!"

"You were stealing from me," Alessandro corrected her, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You used my estate, my property, and my security forces to settle a petty personal grudge. You brought corruption into my home."

He turned his head slightly toward Dom. "Who else was involved?"

Dom tapped the tablet screen, bringing up a secondary file. "Guard Captain Vance, sir. He signed off on the locker inspection without filing the mandatory dual-witness log. He was paid fifty thousand dollars via an offshore wire transfer two hours after the clock was reported missing."

The thirty-two employees gathered around the room gasped in unison. Captain Vance—the head of interior security—was standing right near the main entrance. The moment his name was uttered, Vance’s face went white. He made a desperate, foolish motion, reaching his right hand toward the holster under his dark blazer.

CLICK.

Before Vance’s fingers could even touch his weapon, Dom and two armed guards had their pistols drawn and leveled directly at his forehead.

"Move a finger, Captain, and I will end you where you stand," Dom said calmly.

Vance froze, his hand hovering over his coat, his breathing coming in ragged, terrified gasps. He slowly raised both hands into the air, trembling violently.

"Disarm him," Alessandro ordered without even turning to look at Vance. "Take him to the lower holding area. Dom will conduct the interrogation after we conclude matters here."

Two guards stepped forward, violently slamming Vance against the oak doors, stripping him of his sidearm, radio, and belt, before dragging him kicking and sobbing down the stone staircase leading to the estate's subterranean cells.

The great hall returned to absolute quiet, save for Greta’s ragged, sobbing breaths.

Alessandro turned his full attention back to the weeping housekeeper.

"Twenty-two years you have eaten my bread, Greta," he said softly. "Twenty-two years I trusted you to maintain order in this house. And you used that trust to destroy an innocent woman and her child."

"Please, Don Alessandro!" Greta fell to her knees, clutching the hem of his trousers, weeping hysterically. "Please! Have mercy! I’ll leave! I’ll never return to the state! Just let me go!"

Alessandro looked down at her with pure disdain. He pulled his pant leg out of her grip as if her touch were poisonous.

"Mercy is reserved for those who show it to others," Alessandro said quietly. "You showed none to Nora. You showed none to a three-year-old child."

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He looked at Dom. "Take her down to the cells beside Vance. Clear her quarters. Seize all assets registered in her name. Every dollar she earned in this house is forfeited to the estate."

"No! No! Please!" Greta shrieked as two heavy-set guards grabbed her by the arms, dragging her backward across the polished marble floor. Her frantic screams echoed off the high ceilings as she was pulled through the side archway, her heels scraping uselessly against the stone until the heavy door slammed shut, cutting off her cries entirely.

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