Chapter 2 - The Red Knot
Emily regained consciousness seventeen minutes later.
By then, the Moretti mansion had become something between a home and a crime scene.
Vincent did not call the police.
Not yet.
He wanted facts before accusations.
But he ordered security to preserve every camera recording from the previous forty-eight hours. He requested copies of Enzo’s feeding schedules, kitchen inventories, staff access logs, medical instructions, and the electronic records connected to the nursery.
Nobody protested openly.
That made him more suspicious.
Emily lay on a narrow medical stretcher in the downstairs sitting room while a private physician examined her.
Lily refused to leave her side.
Vincent stood near the doorway.
“How serious?”
The physician removed his stethoscope.
“She appears dehydrated and exhausted. Her blood pressure dropped sharply. I want blood work before making assumptions.”
Emily tried to sit.
“I’m fine.”
“You collapsed.”
“I need to work.”
Vincent stared at her.
“No.”
Emily froze.
Her first reaction was fear.
Again.
Vincent noticed.
“I mean you’re not working today.”
She lowered her eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
“Emily.”
She looked up.
“Why are you afraid of being sick in my house?”
Color rose weakly in her face.
“I’m not.”
Lily spoke from beside her.
“Mommy says sick people don’t get paid.”
Emily turned.
“Lily.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t—”
Vincent raised one hand.
“Let her talk.”
Emily’s mouth tightened.
“My employment arrangement is not your concern, Mr. Moretti.”
“That is an unusual thing to say to your employer.”
Mrs. Hargrove appeared in the doorway.
“Emily is confused after fainting.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I did not ask you.”
Silence.
Mrs. Hargrove stepped back.
Vincent returned his attention to Emily.
“Who told you sick people don’t get paid?”
Emily glanced toward Hargrove.
That was answer enough.
Vincent felt something cold settle behind his ribs.
His household staff had been managed almost entirely by Mrs. Hargrove for three years.
He paid generous salaries.
He provided paid sick leave.
He knew because he had personally approved the contracts.
“Emily?”
She whispered, “We are told missed days are deducted.”
“By whom?”
Nobody moved.
Vincent turned.
“Mrs. Hargrove?”
Her posture remained perfect.
“Certain temporary workers have different arrangements.”
“Emily is not temporary.”
“I would need to review her file.”
“I already know what her file says.”
For the first time, the housekeeper looked uncertain.
Vincent stepped into the hallway.
“Come with me.”
Mrs. Hargrove followed.
Cassandra was waiting outside.
“This is becoming absurd.”
Vincent kept walking.
She followed them.
“Vincent, employees misunderstand policies all the time.”
“Then the records will show that.”
“You’re treating a household mistake like corporate fraud.”
Vincent stopped.
“My son was involved.”
Cassandra folded her arms.
“And Lily shouldn’t have been in the nursery.”
Vincent stared at her.
There it was again.
Not concern for Enzo.
Not concern for Emily.
Lily.
Always Lily.
“Why does that matter so much to you?”
“Because boundaries exist for a reason.”
“She fed a hungry baby.”
“She disobeyed.”
“She is five.”
Cassandra’s lips pressed together.
Vincent walked away.
In the nursery, Enzo had finally fallen asleep.
The red-tagged bottle sat on a tray.
Vincent picked it up with a clean cloth.
The tag carried Emily’s handwriting.
ENZO — 10:30 — EC.
Vincent looked toward Lily, who had followed quietly after the doctor finished.
“You said your mother ties the cloth differently.”
Lily nodded.
“Show me.”
Vincent gave her another clean strip of fabric.
She carefully formed two loops.
“Bunny ears.”
Then she pointed toward Enzo’s tag.
“That’s snake.”
“Did you see anyone touch the bottle?”
Lily thought.
Children sometimes invented answers when adults pushed them.
Vincent deliberately looked away.
“No rush.”
She studied the floor.
“Mommy made it.”
“I know.”
“Then Mrs. Hargrove told her to clean glasses.”
“Yes.”
“The baby made the little noise.”
“The monitor?”
Lily nodded.
“And then?”
“I looked at the bottle again.”
Her eyebrows pulled together.
“It was snake.”
“So you didn’t see who changed it.”
“No.”
Vincent crouched to her level.
“That’s okay.”
She seemed surprised.
“I’m not in trouble?”
“No.”
“But I went in the nursery.”
“Because Enzo was crying.”
She nodded.
“Then you’re not in trouble.”
Behind him came a sound.
Not speech.
A small intake of breath.
Emily stood at the doorway.
She had changed into a cardigan and looked steadier, though still pale.
“Lily,” she said quietly, “come with me.”
Vincent stood.
“You should be resting.”
“We should go home.”
“You’re not leaving yet.”
Emily stiffened.
He immediately recognized how that sounded.
“You’re not being detained. The doctor wants to finish your blood work, and I need to understand what happened.”
Emily looked exhausted.
“Nothing happened.”
Vincent held up the bottle.
“Someone handled this after you prepared it.”
She stared at the knot.
Her face lost what little color had returned.
“You noticed.”
“No. Lily did.”
Emily looked at her daughter.
Lily whispered, “Snake.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“What does it mean?” Vincent asked.
Emily hesitated.
“The tags prevent mix-ups.”
“Obviously.”
“I always tie mine in a bow.”
“Why?”
“So I know which bottles I prepared.”
Vincent waited.
Emily looked toward the hallway before speaking again.
“Two weeks ago, I found a bottle I had prepared in the disposal bin.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Was it used?”
“No.”
“Did Enzo miss that feeding?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t report it?”
“I did.”
“To whom?”
“Mrs. Hargrove.”
“And?”
“She said it was none of my concern.”
Vincent felt anger rise.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
Emily laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Come to you?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Moretti, I polish the table people wait beside before they are allowed to speak to you.”
The words landed harder than Vincent expected.
“You could have requested a meeting.”
“I requested three.”
He stared at her.
“When?”
Emily gave him dates.
Vincent remembered none of them.
Because none had reached him.
Mrs. Hargrove controlled household appointments.
His jaw tightened.
“What were the meetings about?”
Emily glanced at Enzo.
“The baby.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“What about my son?”
“I thought something was wrong with his schedule.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
Vincent said nothing.
“Sometimes bottles disappeared,” Emily continued. “Sometimes the monitor volume was lower than I left it. Once I found Nora asleep in the guest room during her shift.”
“Why didn’t you tell me through someone else?”
“I tried.”
“Who?”
Her eyes met his.
“Miss Vale.”
Cassandra.
Vincent’s face went still.
“What did she say?”
Emily’s voice dropped.
“She said good employees don’t create problems for important men.”
Lily was watching them.
Vincent forced his tone to remain calm.
“Anything else?”
Emily hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“This morning, before I collapsed…”
She looked toward the red knot.
“I saw someone standing beside that bottle.”
Vincent waited.
“Who?”
Emily opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the nursery lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then every light in the west wing went dark.
A second later, Vincent heard security shouting from downstairs.
He ran into the corridor.
“What happened?”
A guard rushed toward him.
“Sir, someone cut power to the security recording cabinet.”
Vincent stopped.
“Did we lose footage?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Behind him, Emily whispered the name she had been trying to say.
“Mrs. Hargrove.”
May you like
And somewhere deeper inside the darkened mansion, a door slammed.
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