Elena looked confused.
"Who?"
"Miss Moretti."
Elena lowered her eyes.
"I don't want to get anyone into trouble."
Marcus gave a tired smile.
"That is a very dangerous sentence in this house."
He opened the door to a small private sitting room adjacent to the kitchen.
"Come inside."
Elena hesitated before entering.
The room was modest compared with the rest of the mansion. There was a leather sofa, a small table, and a window overlooking the winter garden.
Marcus gestured toward a chair.
"Sit."
She sat carefully.
He poured a glass of water and placed it in front of her.
"Drink."
"Thank you."
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he asked, "How long have you worked here?"
"Seven months."
"Has anyone mistreated you before tonight?"
Elena stared at the water.
"Not seriously."
"That's not an answer."
She gave a small, uncomfortable smile.
"Sometimes people forget that the staff are human."
Marcus leaned back.
"People in this house forget many things."
He paused.
"Your employment file says you were previously working at a hotel."
"Yes."
"Why did you leave?"
"My mother became ill."
Marcus nodded.
"And your brother?"
Elena's fingers tightened around the glass.
"What about him?"
"Your emergency contact lists a hospital."
She looked up sharply.
Marcus noticed the change.
"Forgive me. I didn't mean to pry."
"He's recovering."
"Good."
Elena took a small sip of water.
Marcus watched her carefully.
There was something unusual about her.
Most people who entered the De Luca mansion tried to attract attention or avoid it. Elena seemed to have made a deliberate decision to do neither.
She worked.
She kept her head down.
And she observed everything.
"Mr. Bellini?"
"Yes?"
"Will I lose my job?"
He frowned.
"Why would you think that?"
"Because Miss Moretti is important."
Marcus almost smiled.
"Important to whom?"
Elena did not answer.
He understood.
"Listen carefully. Your employment is not dependent on Miss Moretti's mood."
She nodded, though she still looked unconvinced.
A knock sounded at the door.
Marcus stood.
"Come in."
A young housekeeper entered carrying a clean uniform.
"Mr. Bellini, this was prepared for Elena."
"Thank you, Sofia."
The housekeeper placed it on the sofa.
Then she glanced at Elena.
"Are you all right?"
Elena nodded.
Sofia looked unconvinced but said nothing.
Marcus turned toward the door.
"Take your time. Mr. De Luca will speak with you when you're ready."
Elena looked up.
"Mr. De Luca wants to speak with me?"
"Yes."
"About tonight?"
"Among other things."
Marcus left.
Elena remained in the sitting room, staring at the clean uniform.
For a long time, she did not move.
She had come to the De Luca estate because she needed money.
She had never expected to become part of the household's private affairs.
And she certainly had never expected Adrian De Luca to defend her in front of two hundred people.
But there was something about the way he had looked at her wrist.
It had not been curiosity.
It had been recognition.
As if he had seen something that reminded him of a memory he did not want to revisit.
***
At eleven forty-five, the gala officially ended.
At midnight, the last guests left the estate.
At twelve fifteen, Adrian stood alone in his study.
The room occupied the western side of the mansion, overlooking a garden where old stone statues stood beneath bare trees.
A fire burned in the marble fireplace.
On his desk lay a folder containing the preliminary report on the evening's incident.
Marcus stood opposite him.
"Valentina left with her driver."
"Did she say anything?"
"She called her father."
Adrian removed his watch.
"Of course she did."
"Vittorio requested a meeting tomorrow."
"Tell him I'm busy."
Marcus nodded.
There was a pause.
Then Adrian opened the folder.
"Who assigned Elena to the ballroom?"
"Mrs. Whitmore."
"Why?"
"She said the regular attendant was sick."
"Was she?"
"No."
Adrian looked up.
Marcus continued.
"The regular attendant was moved to the east wing this afternoon. The request came from Miss Moretti."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Apparently, Valentina wanted Elena specifically."
"Did she know Elena?"
"Not according to the household records."
Adrian closed the folder.
"Find out."
Marcus remained silent.
He had another concern.
"There's something else."
"Go on."
"Elena's employment application was approved through an agency that no longer exists."
Adrian looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"The agency closed eight months ago. Its registration was revoked. The references listed on her application are difficult to verify."
"Did she forge them?"
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
Marcus nodded.
Adrian walked toward the fireplace.
"She said Valentina poured the champagne."
"Several guests confirmed it."
"And the mark on her wrist?"
Marcus hesitated.
"That is less clear."
"Explain."
"One of the kitchen staff saw Miss Moretti grab her arm earlier this evening. But the mark may be older."
Adrian stared into the fire.
"Bring Elena to my study tomorrow morning."
Marcus glanced at him.
"Do you want me present?"
"No."
"Understood."
Marcus moved toward the door.
"Marcus."
He stopped.
"Yes, sir?"
"Did you notice her expression when I asked whether she was hurt?"
"I did."
"She looked frightened."
"Perhaps she was afraid of losing her job."
Adrian shook his head.
"No. She was afraid of something else."
Marcus studied him.
"Do you know what?"
Adrian did not answer.
Because he had a suspicion.
A suspicion he had buried for seven years.
And if it was correct, the girl working in his mansion was not there by accident.
***
Elena barely slept that night.
Her room was on the third floor of the staff quarters, a small but comfortable space with a narrow bed, a wardrobe, and a window overlooking the courtyard.
She sat on the edge of the mattress wearing an old sweater.
Her clean uniform hung over the back of the chair.
On the bedside table lay a photograph of three people.
A woman with tired eyes.
A young boy with a crooked smile.
And Elena.
The photograph had been taken six years earlier, before everything changed.
She picked it up.
"Just a little longer," she whispered.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from the hospital.