Chapter 5 - The Absence of Shadow
Inside Villa Moretti, the party was beginning to move from the gardens into the grand ballroom as the temperature dropped with the night.
Dante Moretti stood near the grand fireplace, a glass of unopened scotch held in his hand. His eyes swept the room continuously. Something was wrong. The atmosphere of his house felt subtly off, like an orchestra missing a key instrument.
It took him twenty minutes to realize what it was.
The service was dragging. A tray of empty glasses sat too long on a side table near the library. The sunshades on the east terrace hadn't been pulled back despite the sun having set. Sophie, the new maid, was wandering through the dining room with wide, panicked eyes, looking completely lost.
Dante stepped into the service corridor behind the dining room, catching Marco Bellini by the shoulder.
"Marco," Dante said, his voice quiet and sharp. "Where is Elena?"
Marco blinked, pulling out a folded paper schedule from his pocket. "Elena? She should be coordinating the evening dessert service on the main terrace, boss."
"She isn't there," Dante said. "And the dessert tables are unorganized."
Marco frowned. "That’s not like her. She’s usually three steps ahead of everyone else. I’ll check the lower kitchens."
Ten minutes later, Marco returned to Dante’s private study, his expression troubled. "She’s not in the house, Dante. Her phone is in her locker in the staff breakroom. Her purse is still there. But no one has seen her since about five-thirty."
Dante set his scotch glass down on his mahogany desk with a heavy thud. A dark intuition, sharp and cold, settled in his chest. Elena Rossi did not abandon her post. She did not leave her belongings. She was meticulous to a fault.
"Find her," Dante commanded softly. "Check the perimeter cameras."
While Marco hurried to the security room, Dante stepped back out into the main foyer. Bianca was standing by the base of the grand marble staircase, laughing with a group of local politicians' wives. She looked radiant, her dark red dress glowing beneath the crystal chandeliers.
Dante approached her, his steps silent and deliberate.
"Bianca," he said.
She turned, her bright social smile appearing instantly. "Darling! There you are. Senator Vane was just telling me about—"
"Have you seen Elena?" Dante interrupted, his voice dropping into a tone that cut through her laughter like a blade.
Bianca’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Her hand flew up to touch her diamond pendant—a nervous gesture Dante had noted months ago.
"The maid?" Bianca asked, her voice laced with manufactured indifference. "Why on earth would I know where a maid is, Dante? She’s probably in the kitchen or... or maybe she finished her shift and went home."
"She didn't go home," Dante said, his slate-gray eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "Her personal belongings are still in her locker. And you were down near the lower gardens near six o'clock. Vance saw you."
Bianca’s eyes flashed with a flicker of panic before she smoothed her features into an expression of aristocratic annoyance. "Really, Dante! Are you interrogating me about the domestic staff now? Perhaps the woman was clumsy and quit. Honestly, she was entirely unsuitable for an estate of this caliber anyway. So... large and ungraceful. She practically waddled through the foyer—"
"Enough," Dante growled.
The word was not loud, but it possessed a violent, suffocating weight that made the women surrounding Bianca gasp and take a step back. Bianca’s mouth snapped shut, her cheeks flushing red.
Before Dante could say another word, Marco appeared at the end of the corridor. His face was dead pale. He caught Dante’s eye and gave a subtle, urgent nod toward the private office.
Dante turned his back on Bianca without a word and strode down the hall.
Inside the office, Marco stood beside the high-definition security monitor.
"I found her on the dock camera, boss," Marco said, his voice quiet and solemn. "The angle from the main house was blocked by the weeping willow, but the perimeter water-camera caught the tail end of it."
Dante leaned over the desk, his hands gripping the edge of the wood until his knuckles turned white.
On the screen, the grainy, infrared footage showed the wooden dock at 5:42 PM. It showed Bianca Vitali backing Elena toward the edge. It showed the argument, the gesture of aggression—and then, it showed Bianca putting both hands on Elena’s chest and shoving her violently into the deep water.
Dante watched as the screen showed the dark water close over Elena’s body. He watched as Bianca stood there for two minutes, watching the surface, before turning and walking away.
He watched for five full minutes. The water remained still. No one surfaced.
A silence so terrifying descended upon the room that Marco held his breath. The temperature in the study seemed to drop twenty degrees.
Dante Moretti slowly straightened up. His face was no longer that of a businessman or a mob lord. It was a mask of cold, absolute, murderous vengeance.
"She pushed her," Dante whispered, the words vibrating with a quiet, lethal fury. "She pushed her into the lake and left her to drown."
May you like
"Dante..." Marco whispered, reaching for his weapon inside his jacket. "What do you want me to do with Bianca?"
"Nothing yet," Dante said, his voice flat as steel. "Call the dive team quietly. I want Elena’s body recovered from the lake floor before sunrise. And lock the gates. No one leaves Villa Moretti tonight."
