Chapter 2 - The Seam
A repair.
Allesandro’s thumb rested against the raised line on Daisy’s back. The stitching was neat, almost too neat—fresh thread hidden beneath faded wool, the kind of careful work done by someone who knew they might someday be inspected.
“Marco,” he said quietly.
His head of security stepped into the nursery at once. Marco DeLuca was broad-shouldered, gray at the temples, and had worked for Allesandro since before Lily was born. He took one look at the doll in his boss’s hands and stopped breathing for half a second.
“Take everyone out,” Allesandro ordered. “No one touches anything.”
Victoria’s soft expression cracked at the edges. “Allesandro, surely this is unnecessary. It’s a doll.”
“Then it will survive being checked.”
Lily’s lower lip trembled. “Don’t hurt Daisy.”
The words landed harder than any threat.
Allesandro looked at the tiny girl standing under the glow of the nightlight. She had her mother’s brown curls and her father’s eyes, though she had never known who her father was. Her mother, Elena Bennett, had worked in the Moretti mansion for nearly five years before she died in a car accident last winter. Since then, Lily had become a quiet shadow in the grand house, cared for by nannies, teachers, and, when she could not sleep, whoever happened to be nearby.
Mostly, that had been Allesandro.
Not because he had planned it.
Because grief had a way of putting broken people in the same room.
“I won’t hurt her,” he told Lily. “I promise.”
Marco carried the doll to the nursery table. He put on thin black gloves, then used a small blade to carefully open the repaired seam. The room watched in silence.
Victoria stood near the door, arms crossed tightly beneath her robe.
The guards watched Marco.
Lily watched Allesandro.
And Allesandro watched Victoria.
The first thing Marco removed was a small black battery pack wrapped in electrical tape. Then came a tiny camera no bigger than a thumbnail, wired to a transmitter hidden beneath the doll’s stuffing.
One of the guards muttered a curse.
Victoria inhaled sharply. “Oh my God.”
But Allesandro did not look at the device.
He looked at her.
“Can it transmit live?” he asked.
Marco examined it. “Yes. It stores recordings too. There’s a microcard.”
“Do not connect it to our network,” Allesandro said. “Use the isolated system downstairs.”
Marco nodded. “I’ll have our tech team pull the data.”
“Now.”
As Marco left, Allesandro crouched in front of Lily. Her hands were empty now. She stared at the torn doll on the table as if someone had opened a wound in a member of her family.
“Did Daisy ever say anything?” he asked gently.
Lily shook her head.
“Did you see anyone touch her?”
She thought for a moment. “Miss Victoria fixed her dress.”
Victoria’s face turned pale.
“I did,” she said quickly. “The hem was torn. I only repaired it.”
“When?” Allesandro asked.
“Several weeks ago.”
“Did you take the doll out of the house?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else have access to it?”
“Not that I know of.”
The words were perfect.
Too perfect.
Everything Victoria Hail said was polished, precise, and placed exactly where she wanted it. She had entered his life two years ago through a charity board, with warm eyes, impeccable manners, and a talent for making powerful people feel understood. She had become a fixture at his side. She organized events. She chose flowers. She remembered birthdays. She knew which senators wanted expensive wine and which judges preferred envelopes.
She had also become one of the few people allowed inside his home without being searched.
That thought moved coldly through him.
“Victoria,” he said, “you will remain in the east wing tonight.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You will not leave the property.”
Her mouth opened, then closed.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
“I’m protecting a child.”
“You think I put a camera in her doll?”
“I think someone did.”
The silence sharpened.
Victoria’s eyes filled with tears so quickly that any other man might have mistaken them for innocence. “After everything I’ve done for you…”
Allesandro stood. “Do not make this about you.”
For the first time, her expression changed completely.
It happened in less than a second. The grief vanished. The softness vanished. What remained was something flat and cold, something that had been waiting behind the smile.
Then it was gone.
She lowered her gaze. “Of course. I understand.”
But Allesandro had seen it.
And now he could not unsee it.
He led Lily downstairs himself. The little girl walked beside him in silence, clutching the edge of his suit jacket. The mansion seemed different now. Every hallway felt too long. Every painting seemed to hide a pair of eyes. Every chandelier reflected a hundred distorted versions of the people beneath it.
In the security room, Marco waited beside a monitor.
“We recovered fourteen days of footage,” he said.
Allesandro looked at the screen.
The first clip showed Lily sleeping.
The second showed Lily coloring at her small desk.
The third showed Elena’s old bedroom, now locked and unused.
Allesandro’s jaw tightened. “Why was the camera pointed there?”
Marco clicked forward.
The footage shifted. Lily was sitting on the floor, playing with blocks. In the background, the nursery door opened.
Victoria stepped inside.
She looked directly at the doll.
Then she crouched beside Lily and whispered something the camera did not capture clearly.
Marco increased the volume.
Static crackled.
Victoria’s voice emerged, soft and sweet.
“Remember, Lily. If anyone asks, you tell them Mr. Moretti gets angry. You tell them he scares you.”
Lily’s voice was small. “But he doesn’t.”
Victoria’s smile froze.
“Sometimes adults need children to help them understand things.”
The screen went silent.
Allesandro felt something dark and old rise inside him.
Marco looked at him carefully. “Boss…”
“Lock down the house,” Allesandro said.
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Far more dangerous than shouting.
“No one comes in. No one goes out. Find out who built that device, who paid for it, and where the footage was sent.”
“And Victoria?”
Allesandro stared at the frozen image of her smiling at Lily.
“Keep her where I can see her.”
Upstairs, unseen by anyone, Victoria stood in the dark of the east-wing bedroom.
Her hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From rage.
She pulled a second phone from inside the lining of her robe and typed one message.
He found it. Move to phase two.
A reply came almost immediately.
Then make him choose.
Victoria looked toward the nursery at the far end of the mansion.
Her smile returned.
May you like
And this time, there was no softness in it at all.
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