Chapter 11 - THE APRON
The Board of Directors stared at the gold pocket watch resting on the mahogany table as if it were a live grenade.
Arthur’s arrogant sneer vanished, replaced by an ashen mask of pure terror.
Luca shot up from his chair, staring at the watch, then at me, completely stunned. "Sophie... how did you get that? The man in the fedora took it."
I looked at Luca, a small, triumphant smile playing on my lips.
"He did take it," I explained calmly, turning back to the terrified board members. "But before he grabbed it, I realized what was happening. When Marco dropped the watch in the mud after he was shot, the back casing popped open."
I reached into the pocket of my sweater again.
I pulled out a tiny, silver square no bigger than a postage stamp.
The microfilm.
"I slipped the film into my apron pocket while everyone was distracted by the gunfire," I said, holding the tiny piece of plastic up to the light. "The man in the fedora stole an empty gold shell. I have the accounts. I have the blackmail."
I looked dead into Arthur’s panicked eyes.
"I spent the last three hours in Luca’s private study, reading these files," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous, icy tone I didn't know I possessed. "I know exactly how much you embezzled from the pension funds in 2018, Arthur. I know about the illegal kickbacks the rest of you took from the municipal contracts."
The four powerful men shrank back, completely emasculated by a twenty-nine-year-old former housekeeper.
"You are going to sign the transition paperwork," I commanded, tossing the microfilm onto the table next to the watch. "You are going to publicly endorse Marco Moretti as the legitimate CEO. And then, you are all going to take early retirement. If any of you ever threaten Luca or this family again, these files go to the FBI."
For ten agonizing seconds, nobody breathed.
Then, Arthur slowly reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a gold pen, and signed the executive transition document resting on the table.
The other three men quickly followed suit.
Without another word, the Board of Directors turned and fled the room, their empire crumbling beneath their designer shoes.
When the doors clicked shut, the silence in the boardroom was absolute.
I slowly let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for an hour. My hands began to shake slightly from the adrenaline crash.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," I whispered to Luca, looking down at the table. "I just... I wanted to make sure they couldn't hurt you."
I heard the sound of Luca's footsteps approaching.
He didn't speak. He stepped into my space, wrapping his arms around my waist, and lifted me completely off the ground, spinning me around in a fierce, breathless hug.
"You magnificent, brilliant, terrifying woman," Luca laughed, a sound so full of pure, unadulterated joy it made my heart soar.
He set me down, resting his forehead against mine, his dark eyes burning with absolute adoration.
"You just dismantled the most corrupt board in Chicago in under two minutes," Luca breathed. "I don't think I've ever been more attracted to anyone in my entire life."
I blushed, burying my face in his chest, feeling the solid, steady rhythm of his heart.
"I had a good teacher," I murmured.
Two weeks later.
The Moretti estate was bathed in golden afternoon sunlight. The heavy security gates were open. The atmosphere of fear that had choked the mansion for a decade had completely evaporated.
Marco was downtown in a high-rise office, legitimately running Moretti Logistics. Little Leo was enrolled in a prestigious, safe preschool, and my mother was happily spending her days baking cookies in the mansion's massive kitchen, finally free of the shadows.
I was standing in the master bedroom, packing away the last of my old maid uniforms into a cardboard box. I was donating them to a women's shelter Luca had just heavily funded.
As I folded my old white apron, my fingers brushed against a small, stiff piece of paper tucked deep inside the front pocket.
I pulled it out, frowning.
It was a Polaroid photograph.
It wasn't a picture of Vanessa, or Peter, or any mafia conspiracy.
It was a candid picture of me, taken from a distance, standing in the estate's garden reading a book. I was wearing my maid's uniform, my hair messy, completely unaware I was being photographed.
There was writing on the back in black ink.
The only light in this house. September 14th.
I gasped.
May you like
September 14th was almost a year ago. It was the exact day I had been hired.
"I see you found my secret," a deep voice said from the doorway.
