Chapter 2
Sofia refused to sleep in the master bedroom that night.
Raffaele did not argue.
She chose a guest suite at the opposite end of the house.
Greta, the senior housekeeper, helped her change into clean clothes because the bandages made buttons difficult.
Raffaele remained downstairs.
Delia had already been removed from the estate.
Not arrested.
Not dragged into a basement.
Her driver took her to her own townhouse after Raffaele’s attorney instructed her that she was temporarily barred from the property.
The threat about sunrise had also become a problem.
Raffaele’s attorney, Claire Dawson, arrived just after midnight.
She was fifty-one and unimpressed by men who used intimidation as punctuation.
“You told your sister to hope she sees sunrise?”
“I was angry.”
“That will look excellent in an affidavit.”
“I wasn’t going to kill her.”
“You know that.”
Raffaele glared.
Claire continued.
“I know that. The witnesses do not live inside your intention.”
He exhaled.
“What do you want me to do?”
“First, never say anything like that again.”
“Done.”
“Second, no direct contact with Delia.”
“Fine.”
“Third, explain why your wife spent five hours washing cookware while an internal door was electronically locked under your credentials.”
“That is why you’re here.”
Nathan brought the access records.
Raffaele’s household account had issued three instructions that afternoon.
Restrict service-kitchen access to the council corridor.
Remove two regular kitchen assistants from the banquet shift.
And route all domestic issues through Delia until the council meeting ended.
All three appeared legitimate.
All three were false.
Claire asked who could use Raffaele’s household permissions.
Nathan named four people.
Raffaele.
His executive assistant.
Nathan himself.
And the family-office administrator.
The administrator reported to Delia.
Raffaele leaned back.
“Lock the account.”
“Already done.”
“What about previous instructions?”
“We’ll audit them.”
Claire looked at him.
“Not internally.”
Raffaele frowned.
“Why?”
“Because your problem is that everyone in this house believes orders carrying your name should be obeyed without verification.”
She tapped the access log.
“You don’t fix that by telling your own people to investigate your own people.”
He disliked the observation.
He also knew she was right.
The next morning, Sofia’s hands were worse before they were better.
The physician warned that damaged skin could become infected.
She needed rest.
No strong soaps.
No heat.
No cleaning chemicals.
Sofia listened without speaking.
When the doctor left, Raffaele remained near the doorway.
“Can we talk?”
“You can.”
He entered.
She was sitting beside the window.
Her wedding ring remained on her finger.
Raffaele noticed and immediately hated himself for noticing.
Sofia caught him looking.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
He sat down.
“All right.”
She studied him.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything Delia told you came from me.”
Sofia reached for her phone with wrapped fingers.
It took her longer than usual.
Raffaele resisted the urge to help.
She opened a folder containing screenshots.
Dozens of messages.
Some came from the estate management system.
Others from a family-office account.
One said:
Mr. Montoro expects Sofia to defer to Delia on all household hierarchy during family functions.
Another:
Council privacy takes priority over spousal access during meetings. Do not interrupt unless there is a medical emergency.
Another:
Mrs. Montoro should participate in household service preparation periodically. Raffaele believes this will help her understand family standards.
Raffaele stared at the screen.
“I never wrote any of this.”
“I know that now.”
“Why now?”
Sofia’s voice became cold.
“Because I saw your face when you walked into the kitchen.”
She set down the phone.
“That was the first time in eight months you looked shocked by something I thought you had approved.”
May you like
Raffaele did not defend himself.
He had no defense worth offering.
