Chapter 6 - A Daughter's Shield
Upstairs in the family suite, the fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting a warm, orange hush across the room.
Nora Hayes sat on the edge of the velvet armchair, holding a porcelain teacup between both hands, though she hadn't taken a single sip. Across the room, Lily was curled up in an armchair that was far too big for her, fast asleep once more, her thumb tucked securely against her cheek.
Bruno lay across the doorway like a fallen monolith, his dark eyes half-closed, watching every shadow in the hallway beyond.
The door opened with a soft click, and Domenico walked in. He had washed his hands, but the cold authority around him was still palpable, hanging in the air like winter frost.
Nora scrambled to her feet instantly, spilling a few drops of tea onto the saucer. "Mr. Visconti... is everything—did something happen?"
"Margaret is gone," Domenico said simply, walking over to the fireplace and resting his forearm against the stone mantel, staring down into the glowing embers. "She won't be returning to the staff quarters. Neither will Elvira."
Nora’s breath hitched. She didn't ask where they went. In a house like this, asking too many questions was a shortcut to the same destination.
"What... what happens to me?" Nora whispered, her voice trembling as she looked down at the floor. "The police won't believe me if they investigate the watch... and without this job, I don't have anywhere to go, Mr. Visconti. I don't have family left in the city."
Domenico turned his head, looking at her across the dimly lit room. He looked at the frayed cuffs of her uniform, the dark circles under her eyes, and the quiet, desperate dignity of a mother who would swallow her own pride a thousand times over just to keep her child safe from the dark.
It reminded him of things he had spent a lifetime trying to forget—things his mother used to say before the world turned cold and gray.
"You are not leaving," Domenico said.
Nora looked up, stunned. "Sir?"
"Effective immediately," Domenico said, his tone absolute, leaving no room for argument or debate, "your position in this household is changed. You are no longer on the cleaning roster. You will manage the private family wing, oversee the pantry inventory, and report directly to Tony."
Nora’s lips parted in sheer disbelief. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Visconti, I swear I won't let you down—"
"And your daughter," Domenico continued, cutting off her gratitude with a wave of his hand, "will have a proper room on the second floor. A real bed. Toys from the city if she wants them. And a tutor when she is old enough."
Nora’s knees felt weak. She sank slowly back down into the armchair, tears finally breaking free, soundless and heavy, rolling down her cheeks. "You're giving us a home... why? A man like you... you don't do things like this for strangers."
Domenico looked back down at the dying fire, watching a single spark flare up brightly before turning into gray ash.
"I have spent thirty years building walls around myself," Domenico said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the wood. "I surrounded myself with guards, locks, lawyers, and vicious dogs, believing that fear was the only thing that could keep the dark out."
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He turned back, his gray eyes fixing on the sleeping child curled up in the oversized chair across the room.
"And yet," Domenico murmured, "it took a mustard-yellow cardigan, a one-eared stuffed rabbit, and a dog who finally decided to choose someone to remind me that there was still a house standing behind all those walls."
