Chapter 2 - THE BLUE LIGHT OF THE MONITOR
Luca stepped past the poinsettia arrangement.
His boots made no sound on the polished white marble.
He carried a small silver tablet in his left hand, its screen glowing with a sharp, cold blue light that reflected off his jaw.
Richard Caldwell’s throat worked once.
A dry swallow.
"There was an accident," Richard said, his voice tightening at the edges. "An heirloom was destroyed. Staff discipline is my responsibility, Mr. Grimaldi."
Nicholas Grimaldi did not take off his coat.
He stood six-foot-three in the center of the entrance hall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair damp from the blizzard raging outside the double doors.
"Show me the camera," Nicholas repeated.
His voice was not loud.
It was the tone that preceded a dock fire or a renegotiation in the North End—flat, effortless, and absolute.
Luca tapped the glass.
The screen flickered.
The high-definition lens above the portico sprang to life, rewinding twenty minutes into the blinding white snow.
We watched the door open.
We watched Richard shove a girl in a thin cotton maid's uniform out into the freezing night without a winter coat.
We watched her stumble down the stone steps into the drifts.
Nicholas’s eyes never left the screen.
When the footage ended, the silence in the hall was heavier than the winter storm hitting the glass.
"She has no family in the city," Nicholas said.
"She was incompetent," Richard stammered, stepping back toward the dining room. "The grandfather’s porcelain vase—shattered into a dozen pieces. I had no choice under the estate code—"
"Luca," Nicholas interrupted.
"Boss?"
"Bring the car around."
Nicholas unbuttoned his black wool coat, letting it fall onto the bench by the door as though shedding armor before a hunt.
"Mr. Grimaldi," Richard pleaded, his composure finally cracking. "The Christmas Eve guests will arrive in two hours. The senator from New York is flying in—"
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"If she is dead when I find her, Richard," Nicholas said, walking past him toward the side exit without raising his voice, "you will spend the rest of your life wishing you had broken that vase over your own head instead."
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