Chapter 5 - The Maid Who Was Never Supposed to Stay
Clara read the sentence three times.
Hire her. She looks enough like Sofia to unsettle the dog.
She looked at Matteo.
“Do I?”
“Do you what?”
“Look like Sofia?”
Matteo hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“From certain angles.”
Clara looked at Sofia's photograph.
Dark hair.
Similar height.
Similar smile.
Enough resemblance to disturb an animal already carrying traumatic memories.
“Someone expected Bruno to attack me.”
Matteo's face turned cold.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“They could claim he was unstable.”
“And have him removed.”
“Yes.”
Clara looked at Bruno.
The dog rested his head against her leg.
Instead of attacking the woman chosen to trigger his memories, Bruno had trusted her.
The entire plan had failed because Clara had listened.
That realization changed everything.
Vittorio had underestimated Bruno.
He had also underestimated her.
Matteo wanted Clara moved immediately to another property.
This time, she agreed—but only if he came too.
They relocated temporarily to a secluded lake house owned by the family.
Bruno loved it.
For three days, life became strangely peaceful.
Clara cooked.
Badly.
Matteo ate everything anyway.
Bruno received gentle physical therapy.
They walked along the frozen lake.
Without the estate staff, the Moretti name, and constant interruptions, Matteo seemed different.
Still guarded.
But human.
One evening, Clara attempted pasta.
Matteo looked into the pot.
“What happened?”
“Dinner.”
“To whom?”
She hit him with a towel.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
Bruno barked excitedly.
Clara stared at Matteo.
“What?”
“I've never heard you laugh like that.”
His smile faded into something softer.
“I haven't had much reason.”
She moved closer.
“Maybe you do now.”
Matteo touched her face.
This time, Bruno did not interrupt.
Their first kiss was quiet.
Slow.
Careful.
Nothing like the dangerous world surrounding them.
When they separated, Matteo rested his forehead against hers.
“This is a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“I should stop.”
“Probably.”
He kissed her again.
Later that night, security called.
Vittorio had disappeared.
His house was empty.
His accounts had been cleared.
But he had left something behind.
A recording.
Matteo played it.
Vittorio's voice filled the room.
“You always believed Sofia was the innocent one, Matteo. She wasn't. Ask Grant what she discovered about your father.”
The recording ended.
Matteo immediately contacted Grant.
Grant refused to answer over the phone.
They returned to the estate the next morning.
Grant was waiting.
He looked exhausted.
“What did Sofia discover about my father?” Matteo demanded.
Grant hesitated.
“Your father created the original accounts.”
Matteo stared.
The theft had begun decades earlier.
Vittorio had not invented the scheme.
He inherited it.
Sofia had discovered evidence that Matteo's father had hidden millions from business partners.
After his death, Vittorio continued stealing.
Sofia wanted everything exposed.
Vittorio wanted it buried.
“She threatened the entire family legacy,” Grant said.
Matteo's expression hardened.
“She threatened a lie.”
Grant nodded.
“Yes.”
That distinction mattered.
Matteo decided immediately.
Every illegal account would be disclosed to attorneys and investigators.
Money would be returned where ownership could be established.
Businesses built on fraudulent funds would be restructured or sold.
Vittorio had spent years protecting the Moretti name.
Matteo chose truth instead.
That destroyed Vittorio's leverage.
But it also made him desperate.
The final confrontation came two nights later.
Not with gunfire.
Not with violence.
With Bruno.
Vittorio entered the estate using an old service passage only family knew.
Security detected him.
Matteo found him in Sofia's room.
Clara remained outside with Bruno.
Vittorio looked around the room.
“She was stubborn.”
Matteo stood in the doorway.
“She was right.”
“She would have destroyed everything.”
“No.”
Matteo's voice was calm.
“She would have destroyed what should never have existed.”
Vittorio laughed bitterly.
“You think honesty will save this family?”
“No.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“But lies already destroyed it.”
Vittorio's eyes moved toward Clara.
Then Bruno.
The dog growled.
Vittorio froze.
For the first time, Clara saw fear in him.
Bruno remembered.
Vittorio took one step backward.
Bruno did not attack.
He simply stood beside Clara.
That somehow felt more powerful.
Vittorio looked at him.
“Stupid animal.”
“No,” Clara said.
Everyone turned toward her.
“He remembered exactly who frightened him.”
Vittorio's face tightened.
“And he remembered who didn't.”
She placed her hand on Bruno's neck.
The dog relaxed.
Matteo looked at them.
Something in his expression changed.
Security entered.
Vittorio was taken into custody based on the financial evidence and the reopened investigation into Sofia's death.
Before leaving, he looked at Matteo.
“You'll regret choosing strangers over blood.”
Matteo glanced at Clara.
Then Bruno.
“No.”
His voice was steady.
“I finally learned that blood and family aren't always the same thing.”
After Vittorio left, Clara expected relief.
Instead, Matteo became distant.
For two days, he buried himself in legal meetings.
Clara understood.
At least she tried to.
Then she found a suitcase outside her room.
Her suitcase.
Packed.
Her heart dropped.
Matteo entered the hallway.
“What is this?”
He stopped.
“Clara—”
“You packed my things?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“Bianca.”
Clara stared.
“Bianca?”
“She came this morning.”
“Why?”
“To apologize.”
Clara looked at the suitcase.
“And apparently evict me?”
Matteo almost smiled.
“She thought you were leaving.”
“Why would she think that?”
His silence answered.
Clara's chest tightened.
“You told her I was leaving?”
“I told her your employment contract was ending.”
Employment.
The word hurt more than it should have.
“I see.”
“No. You don't.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“Your contract is ending because I can't keep paying you to be my maid.”
Clara's face burned.
“Wonderful.”
“Clara.”
“What?”
“I can't employ the woman I'm in love with to clean my house.”
Silence.
Clara stared at him.
Matteo looked almost uncomfortable.
“You're what?”
He exhaled.
“In love with you.”
“You could have led with that.”
“I've never done this before.”
“Clearly.”
A laugh escaped her despite herself.
Matteo smiled.
Then Clara's smile disappeared.
“What exactly are you asking?”
“To stay.”
“As what?”
Matteo stepped closer.
“Whatever you choose.”
She searched his face.
“Not because Bruno likes me?”
“No.”
“Not because you think I need protection?”
“No.”
“Not because I remind you of Sofia?”
His expression softened.
“Never.”
Clara swallowed.
“Then why?”
Matteo took her hand.
“Because when you're here, this house feels less like a fortress.”
Clara's eyes stung.
Before she could answer, Bruno began barking downstairs.
Matteo sighed.
“His timing remains terrible.”
But this bark was different.
Excited.
They went downstairs.
A courier had arrived.
One final package.
Addressed to Clara.
No sender.
Inside was Sofia's missing journal.
And on the final page was a sentence that changed the story again:
If anything happens to me, Bruno isn't the only one Vittorio will try to silence. There is a child. Matteo doesn't know.
Clara slowly raised her eyes.
“A child?”
Matteo had gone pale.
And beneath the sentence was a name.
May you like
Elena.
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