She never complained.
She never asked personal questions.
She arrived before sunrise and usually remained after the other staff had finished their shifts.
The head housekeeper, Signora Beatrice, liked her immediately.
"You're too young to work so hard," Beatrice had told her during her first week.
Elena had smiled.
"Hard work doesn't frighten me."
"What does?"
Elena had looked toward the enormous windows.
"Not having somewhere to go."
Beatrice had not understood the answer.
She would remember it later.
***
The family doctor arrived twenty minutes after the dinner incident.
Dr. Riccardo Bellini was an older man who had treated the Morettis for nearly fifteen years. He examined Elena in the small sitting room adjoining the dining hall.
Alessandro waited outside.
Giovanni stood beside him.
"How long?" Alessandro asked.
"How long what?"
"Has she been injured?"
Giovanni hesitated.
"I don't know."
"You manage security here."
"Yes."
"Four months. A new employee. Visible injuries. And you don't know?"
Giovanni lowered his eyes.
"I'll investigate."
"You'll do more than investigate."
The doctor opened the door.
"Don Alessandro."
Alessandro entered.
Elena sat on the sofa, her hands folded in her lap. A small bandage covered her wrist.
"She has several older bruises," the doctor explained. "Some are recent. There is nothing suggesting a serious medical emergency tonight, but she should rest."
Alessandro looked at Elena.
"Did you fall?"
She nodded.
"Where?"
"On the stairs."
"Which stairs?"
"The service staircase."
"When?"
"Last week."
The doctor studied her face.
"Some of these injuries are not consistent with a simple fall."
Elena looked at the carpet.
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
"Thank you, Doctor. Giovanni will arrange your transport."
When the doctor left, Alessandro remained standing.
"Did someone in this house put their hands on you?"
"No, sir."
"That was a very quick answer."
"Because it's the truth."
"Then why are you afraid?"
She looked up.
For a moment, something close to anger appeared in her eyes.
"Because people like me don't get to decide what happens when people like you become angry."
The room went silent.
Giovanni shifted his weight.
Alessandro did not.
He studied her as though she had placed an unfamiliar object on his desk.
"Explain."
Elena shook her head.
"I shouldn't have said that."
"You're right. You shouldn't have had to."
He pulled a chair closer but did not sit.
"Listen carefully. Nobody in this house is permitted to threaten you. Nobody is permitted to touch you. If you have a complaint, you bring it directly to me."
Elena's eyes filled again.
"That sounds easy when you're the person everyone listens to."
Alessandro looked at her for a long moment.
Then he turned toward Giovanni.
"Find out what happened in this house during the last four months. Every complaint. Every disciplinary report. Every visitor. Every member of staff who has been alone with her."
"Understood."
"And Matteo?"
Giovanni waited.
"Find out why my brother was so eager to answer a question I hadn't asked him."
***
Elena did not sleep that night.
Her room was on the third floor, in the servants' wing, overlooking a narrow courtyard.
It was small but comfortable. A single bed, a wardrobe, a desk, and a window that faced the gardens.
She had never considered the room hers.
It was temporary.
Everything in her life was temporary.
Her mother used to tell her that a person could survive almost anything if they remembered who they were.
But her mother had been dead for three years.
And her younger brother, Daniel, was currently sleeping in a hospital room in Milan.
Elena reached beneath her mattress and removed a folded photograph.
It showed three people standing in front of a modest house.
Her mother.
Daniel.
And Elena.
Daniel was twelve in the photograph, laughing with his arms around both women.
Now he was nineteen.
His illness had begun as a persistent cough, followed by unexplained exhaustion and recurring fevers. Months of examinations eventually revealed a rare blood disorder requiring specialized treatment.
The treatment was expensive.
The family had no savings.
Their mother had spent nearly everything she owned on medical appointments before she died.
Elena had taken every job she could find.
Restaurants.
Hotels.
Cleaning companies.
Private households.
She had eventually found work at the Moretti mansion because the salary was almost twice what she could earn elsewhere.
She had not known how complicated the arrangement would become.
The first month had been difficult but manageable.
Then Matteo began noticing her.
At first, he had simply asked her to bring coffee to his private office.
Then he began asking personal questions.
Where did she live?
Did she have a boyfriend?
Why did she work so many hours?
Who was paying for her brother's treatment?
That last question had frightened her.
She had never mentioned Daniel to anyone inside the mansion.
Yet Matteo somehow knew.
A week later, he showed her a photograph of Daniel entering the hospital.
He placed it on his desk as casually as if he were showing her a picture of a new car.
"Your brother looks unwell," he had said.
Elena remembered the coldness in her hands.
"How did you get that?"
Matteo smiled.
"People talk."
Then he explained the arrangement.
She would bring him private documents from Alessandro's office.
Nothing important, he claimed.
Just financial statements.
Shipping schedules.
Names of people who attended certain meetings.
In return, Matteo would make sure Daniel received the best treatment available.
Elena refused.
Matteo did not become angry.
He simply slid another photograph across the desk.