them.
Vincent knew her only in fragments. She brought Maggie tea. She changed the flowers in the sitting room. She kept a blanket folded over Maggie’s knees when the air conditioning made the old woman cold. She was not loud, not ambitious, not part of the polished world Serena admired.
But on the monitor, Sofia did something Vincent did not expect.
She set the tray down, slipped her phone into the pocket of her apron with the camera facing outward, and walked toward the grand hall.
Vincent leaned closer.
Serena saw her at once.
The softness disappeared from her face.
Sofia lowered her eyes and explained that Mrs. Moretti needed her medicine on schedule. The words were respectful, but her voice carried a thin edge of fear.
Serena stepped toward her.
That woman needs to understand she is not the mistress of this house anymore, Serena said.
Thomas smirked, comfortable now that he believed Vincent was gone.
Sofia did not argue. She only moved toward Maggie’s sitting room. Serena followed, perhaps because cruelty always wants an audience. Thomas came behind them, still holding the envelope that contained the future he thought he had stolen.
Maggie sat by the window under a gray blanket, sunlight silvering her hair. Her hands rested in her lap, the fingers trembling faintly. She looked smaller than Vincent remembered from childhood, but her eyes were clear.
Serena entered first.
Dear Maggie, she said, her voice sweet enough to fool a stranger. Vincent is gone. There is no need to perform now.
Maggie looked at her calmly.
I was never performing, she said.
Serena laughed.
No, you were interfering.
She reached for the medicine bottle on the side table and lifted it out of Maggie’s reach.
Vincent rose from his chair.
Sofia stepped forward before he could move toward the hidden door.
Miss Blackwood, she said carefully, Mrs. Moretti needs that dose now.
Serena turned slowly.
The slap cracked through the speakers.
Sofia staggered sideways, one hand flying to her cheek. The tray she had carried earlier rattled somewhere out of view. For a moment, Vincent saw nothing but the red mark blooming on her face.
But Sofia did not run.
She did not even lower her head fully.
Her phone remained in her apron, still recording.
Serena leaned close and told her that servants who forgot their place ended up unemployed, hungry, and invisible. Thomas chuckled under his breath, as if the threat amused him.
That small laugh told Vincent more about Thomas than any stolen document could have.
Maggie’s voice cut through the room.
Enough.
It was not loud. Her illness would not allow loud. Yet the word carried a force that made even Serena pause.
Serena looked back at the wheelchair and smiled.
You have no idea how close you are to losing everything.
Maggie’s eyes shifted, not to Serena, but toward the wall near the portrait of Vincent’s father. A tiny movement. A mother’s signal. A reminder.
Vincent understood.
She knew he was watching.
She had known from the beginning that the hidden room would show him what her warnings could not.
Maggie lifted her chin.
Neither do you, she said.
Serena frowned.
Before she could speak, the wall behind the library opened.
Vincent stepped out.
The room changed instantly.
Thomas went pale.
