Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE ON THE BLUE PAPER
Dante didn’t shout.
He didn’t throw his glass.
But the temperature in the dining room dropped so fast it felt like the crystal chandeliers might shatter.
“You gave my daughter a forged letter?” Dante asked, his voice a lethal, quiet rasp.
Isabella took a step backward, her diamond heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
“I didn't forge it, Dante! I swear to you. I found it.”
Dante turned to me. “Sarah. Come with me. Now.”
I followed the most dangerous man in New York out of his own engagement party. We left twenty-eight wealthy guests sitting in stunned silence.
We walked up the grand staircase.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I had overstepped. A housekeeper was supposed to be invisible, but I had just humiliated the future lady of the house. I thought about my younger sister, Chloe, sitting in our tiny apartment, depending on my paycheck.
But then we reached the top of the stairs, and I saw Mia.
The eight-year-old girl was standing in the hallway, wearing her pale yellow dress. She was clutching a small, blue piece of paper to her chest. Her eyes were red from crying.
“Daddy?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Dante dropped to his knees. The feared mafia boss didn’t care about his tailored suit. He reached out and pulled his daughter into his arms, burying his face in her dark hair.
“I’m here, principessa,” Dante murmured. “I’m right here.”
Mia sniffled, pulling back. “Miss Isabella said you were too busy for me. She said you signed the paper.”
Dante held out his hand. “Let me see it, Mia.”
Mia slowly handed him the blue paper.
I stood a few feet away, watching Dante unfold it. It was a formal letter from the Swiss boarding school, confirming Mia’s permanent enrollment and immediate transfer.
At the bottom was Dante’s signature.
Bold. Sharp. Unmistakable.
Dante stared at the ink for a long time. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break.
“This is my signature,” Dante whispered.
Mia let out a small sob. “You promised you wouldn't send me away.”
“I didn’t, Mia. I swear on your mother’s life, I didn’t sign this.” Dante stood up, holding the paper up to the hallway light.
He rubbed the corner of the blue paper between his thumb and forefinger.
“Answer one question for me, Mia,” Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Where did Isabella say she found this letter?”
Mia wiped her eyes. “She said it was in the mail. But it wasn't, Daddy.”
Dante frowned. “How do you know?”
Mia reached into her little white purse. She pulled out a small, heavy object.
It was a silver music box.
“Because I found the letter first,” Mia whispered. “It was hidden inside Mommy’s music box.”
Dante froze.
The music box had belonged to his late wife. It was kept locked in a glass cabinet in Dante’s private study—a room Isabella was never allowed to enter.
Dante looked at me. “Sarah. Who has the key to my study?”
“Only you, sir,” I answered, my voice shaking. “And your head of security, Mr. Vance.”
Before Dante could speak, my radio earpiece buzzed. It was the downstairs kitchen staff.
“Sarah,” the chef whispered frantically in my ear. “You need to get Mr. Rinaldi. Right now.”
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“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Mr. Vance. He just locked the dining room doors from the outside. The guests are trapped inside.”
