Chapter 5 - The Pond
Lorenzo reached Isabella before I did.
He crossed the frozen lawn without a coat, slipping once on the wet grass, then catching himself. I ran behind him, carrying Emma because she would not let go of me.
“Bella!” Lorenzo shouted.
Isabella turned.
Her face was white.
“I was looking for Emma.”
Lorenzo dropped to his knees in the snow and pulled her against him.
She began crying then.
Not loud at first.
Then hard enough that her whole body shook.
“I heard Vivien,” she sobbed. “She said Emma was bad and you were going to send her away.”
Lorenzo looked up at me.
The pain in his face made something inside my chest crack.
“Where is Vivien?” he asked.
Isabella pointed toward the main house.
“She told me to come here.”
Vincent arrived seconds later with two guards.
His expression became murderous when he saw Isabella’s bare feet.
“Find Vivien,” Lorenzo said.
Vincent did not ask questions.
He just moved.
Inside the guest house, I warmed Isabella’s feet with blankets while Emma sat beside her, holding her hand.
“I didn’t take your medicine,” Emma whispered.
“I know,” Isabella said.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Emma looked at her seriously.
“Maybe medicine got lost.”
Isabella shook her head.
“No. Vivien put it in your bag.”
The room became silent.
Lorenzo was standing near the fireplace.
He turned slowly.
“What did you say?”
Isabella looked frightened.
I moved closer to her.
“You can tell the truth,” I said gently. “Nobody is angry with you.”
“She had bottles,” Isabella said. “At night. She said they were for Emma’s mommy.”
Lorenzo’s face drained of color.
“Did you see her put them in Emma’s backpack?”
Isabella shook her head.
“No. She said I had to stay in my room. Then she got mad because I asked where Daddy was.”
“What else did she say?”
Isabella hesitated.
Her lower lip trembled.
“She said if Emma went away, Daddy would stop looking at Sophia.”
Lorenzo went still.
I stared at him.
He did not look at me.
Not immediately.
But he had heard it.
And he understood exactly what Vivien had been trying to do.
At 2:00 p.m., Vincent returned.
He found Vivien in the estate chapel.
Not praying.
Packing cash, passports, and jewelry into a black leather bag.
“She says she was leaving because you humiliated her,” Vincent told Lorenzo.
“Bring her to the study.”
Vivien entered fifteen minutes later in a long camel coat, her hair perfectly arranged despite the chaos.
She looked at Isabella first.
Then at me.
Then at Lorenzo.
“I assume this is overdramatic,” she said.
Lorenzo did not raise his voice.
“Why was Isabella outside without shoes?”
Vivien’s eyes flickered.
“She wandered off.”
“She says you told her to go.”
“A five-year-old is confused.”
“She says you put medication in Emma’s backpack.”
Vivien gave a soft laugh.
“Oh, Lorenzo.”
Nobody else moved.
She realized too late that the laugh had been a mistake.
“Do you honestly believe a child over me?” she asked.
“I believe evidence.”
“Then show me the evidence.”
Vincent placed a tablet on the desk.
The footage began at 2:13 a.m.
A woman in my cardigan walked down the east staircase.
At 2:17, the screen went black.
At 2:25, the camera returned.
The woman was gone.
Vivien smiled faintly.
“That could be Sophia.”
Then Vincent swiped to another clip.
The guest house camera.
At 2:14 a.m., I was visible through the bedroom window, standing beside Emma’s bed.
I had been awake.
Emma had coughed.
I had held her upright, rubbed her back, and checked her pulse.
For eleven minutes.
There was no way I could have been in two places.
Vivien’s smile disappeared.
Vincent leaned forward.
“And this,” he said, “is your bracelet reflected in the east wing mirror before the feed cuts.”
Vivien’s face became blank.
Then cold.
“You have no proof I planted anything.”
“No,” Lorenzo said. “Not yet.”
She looked at him.
“You would destroy our family over a servant?”
The silence after that word was terrible.
Servant.
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
Not with anger.
With finality.
“You are speaking about the mother of a child you tried to endanger,” he said. “You are speaking about a woman who protected Isabella when you treated her illness like an inconvenience.”
Vivien’s eyes flashed.
“She was taking you from me.”
“No,” Lorenzo replied. “You lost me when you made my daughter afraid.”
She stepped closer.
“You think Sophia wants you? She hates you.”
I did.
Or I had.
Or I wanted to.
Lorenzo’s gaze never left Vivien.
“This is not about what Sophia wants.”
Then Vincent’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His eyes narrowed.
“Boss,” he said. “We found Marco Bellini.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Vincent looked at Vivien.
May you like
“In the trunk of her car.”
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