Chapter 3 - The Price of Loyalty
The investigation turned the mansion into a pressure cooker. Raphael was methodical, brutal, and utterly consumed. He questioned everyone—the cooks, the cleaners, the guards, and even the high-level lieutenants who had been with him for decades. I remained in the house, theoretically a guest, practically a witness under protective custody. I spent my days tending to Matthew, who had become a different child—calm, observant, and oddly attached to me. Raphael began to spend time in the nursery, watching from the shadows, his presence a constant, brooding weight that filled the room with tension.
One evening, while Raphael was interrogating a weeping maid in the library, I took the opportunity to explore the nursery’s service entrance. I found a hidden compartment in the laundry chute—a small, magnetized pouch containing more of the serrated thread. It wasn't just a one-time attempt; it was a campaign of attrition. Whoever was doing this wanted to ensure that even if the first wire was found, there would be another.
I confronted Raphael in the hall. "It's someone in the laundry, or someone who manages the linens," I said, handing him the pouch. "Look at the stitching on these clothes. The wire isn't just placed; it’s woven into the hem. This is professional work."
He looked at the evidence, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the pouch. "It’s my sister, isn't it?" he muttered, more to himself than to me. "She’s the only one who has access to the private laundry, the only one who would know the security blind spots."
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"I don't know who she is," I said, "but she's trying to break you by breaking him. This isn't just an attack on a child; it’s a psychological war. She wants you to feel helpless, to feel the pain that your son is feeling every single second of the day."
He stared at me, and for a fleeting moment, the armor dropped. I saw a man who had traded his humanity for a throne, only to find the throne was made of spikes. He told me about his sister, Elena, who had been exiled years ago for her own greed. She had been the only one who knew his weaknesses, his habits, and the layout of this fortress. She had been bitter for years, and now she was playing the long game. I realized then that I wasn't just nursing a baby; I was a pawn in a mob war that had been brewing for a decade.
