Chapter 5 - The Shadow of Valenti
For the next two weeks, the atmosphere in Blackmere House underwent a subtle, unannounced shift.
Nora was not fired. She was not transferred to another property. She continued her duties, but her schedule was altered. She was no longer assigned to the lonely late-night cleaning shifts in the isolated east wing. Instead, she worked during the bright morning hours, often in the primary residence rooms where Samuel Vance’s security detail was heavily stationed.
More importantly, Roman Blackmere began appearing in places he had previously avoided.
When Nora was polishing the silver chandeliers in the main dining room, Roman would sit at the far end of the long mahogany table, reading through stacks of legal briefs or talking quietly on his secure phone. He never demanded her attention, never forced conversation, but his presence was a constant, solid anchor in the room.
For the first time in her life, Nora felt the suffocating fog of constant panic begin to lift.
However, forty miles away in a high-rise office in downtown Philadelphia, Julian Valenti was growing desperate.
At forty-two, Julian was a volatile, ruthless man who had inherited his father’s territory but lacked his father’s patience. The forty million dollars Arthur Moreau had stolen was crucial to paying off Valenti’s international suppliers. Without that money, his empire was beginning to fracture at the seams.
"We found the broker," Julian’s chief lieutenant, a greasy man named Marco, reported as he stepped into the office.
Julian looked up from his desk, a glass of expensive scotch in his hand. "Which broker?"
"The forgery guy in Brooklyn," Marco said, setting a damp photograph on the desk. "We put him in a chair for an hour. He admitted he made a set of clean papers eighteen months ago for Arthur Moreau’s daughter. Her new name is Nora Vale."
Julian’s eyes narrowed into dark slits. "Where is she?"
"That’s the problem, Boss," Marco said, swallowing nervously. "Her address on the intake tax form leads straight to Blackmere House in the Hudson Valley. She’s working as a housemaid for Roman Blackmere."
Julian set his glass down with a heavy thud. "Roman Blackmere?"
"Yes, Boss. She’s inside his main estate."
Julian stood up, pacing the room like a frustrated wolf. Roman Blackmere was not a man one lightly crossed. The Blackmere family held ironclad control over the northern shipping corridors and possessed enough political leverage to dismantle Valenti’s Philadelphia operations with three phone calls.
"Does Blackmere know who she is?" Julian asked.
"We don't think so," Marco replied. "She probably hid there like a cockroach under a heavy refrigerator. Blackmere hires hundreds of service staff through third-party agencies. There’s no way he knows his new maid is Arthur Moreau’s daughter."
Julian’s mouth twisted into a cruel, ambitious smile. "Then we don't ask Blackmere for permission. We pick her up when she leaves the estate."
"She never leaves the grounds, Boss," Marco warned. "Our scouts have been watching the perimeter gates for three days. She lives in the staff quarters inside the security fence."
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Julian walked over to a wall map of the East Coast, his hand tracing the dark line of the Hudson River.
"Then we go over the fence," Julian said coldly. "Four men. Fast, quiet, late at night. Grab the girl, bring her back here, and find out where her father put my forty million dollars before Blackmere even realizes a maid is missing."
