Chapter 4 - The Serpent at the Table
At one o'clock precisely, Maeve walked down the main staircase toward the library.
The double doors were slightly ajar, and as she approached, she heard voices coming from inside—one smooth and cold, the other deep and controlled.
"It is an absolute outrage, Rafaele," a woman’s voice said, sharp with aristocratic authority. "You hire a common event server—a woman who was fired for incompetence by Harborview—and bring her into your home to watch over my granddaughter?"
Maeve paused near the doorway.
Inside stood an older woman dressed in an impeccably tailored navy Chanel suit, her silver hair styled into an intricate, immovable helmet. She held a gold-tipped cane in her right hand, though she clearly didn't need it for support; she used it to tap the hardwood floor for emphasis.
This was Beatrice Conti, Rafaele’s mother, and the matriarch of the family empire.
Rafaele sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, signing papers with a fountain pen, seemingly unfazed by his mother's outburst.
"Maeve Callahan saved Lia’s life, Mother," Rafaele said without looking up from his documents. "Where were your trusted security personnel when Lia was in the water?"
"Sylvana told me it was an accident!" Beatrice snapped, stepping closer to the desk. "The child slipped! Sylvana was trying to help her!"
"Sylvana dropped a silver object into the deep end and told a five-year-old child to fetch it," Rafaele said, setting his pen down with a quiet click. He raised his eyes to meet his mother's. "I have the whistle. I have the security logs. If Sylvana sets foot on this property again, Marco has orders to have her arrested for criminal trespass."
"You are creating a scandal!" Beatrice declared, bringing her cane down sharply against the rug. "Victoria’s legal team has already filed a motion in family court citing an unsafe environment! They are using this pool incident to claim you are an unfit custodial parent!"
"Let them file," Rafaele said coldly. "My legal team will counter-file tomorrow morning with evidence of reckless endangerment naming Sylvana as an agent of Victoria’s estate."
Beatrice scoffed, turning toward the door—and caught sight of Maeve standing in the hallway.
The old woman’s eyes swept over Maeve with deliberate, insulting thoroughness, taking in her simple cotton blouse, plain trousers, and complete lack of jewelry.
"So," Beatrice said, her voice dripping with condescension. "This is the miracle worker from the catering staff."
Maeve stepped into the library, holding her head high. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Conti."
"Do not address me," Beatrice said coldly, moving past her toward the hallway. "You are a temporary employee, girl. Do not confuse a moment of fortunate timing with permanent standing in this house. When Victoria’s lawyers are finished with this family, you will be back to serving appetizers in Queens."
Beatrice walked out, the click of her high heels fading down the marble corridor.
Maeve turned to Rafaele. "Is she always that warm?"
A faint, shadowy smile touched the corner of Rafaele’s mouth, gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Mother prefers order over truth. It makes financial planning much simpler."
He gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit down, Maeve."
Maeve sat. On the desk lay a thick black binder labeled PROTECTIVE PROTOCOLS: LIA CONTI.
"Victoria—Lia’s mother—left New York three years ago for Paris," Rafaele explained, his tone businesslike. "She surrendered primary physical custody in exchange for a substantial annual settlement from the Conti trust. However, a clause in the original decree states that if Lia’s safety is compromised while in my care, physical custody reverts to Victoria, along with control of Lia’s personal twenty-million-dollar trust fund."
"So the pool incident wasn't just about spite," Maeve realized, her brows drawing together. "It was a financial execution."
"Precisely," Rafaele said. "Sylvana was promised a percentage of the trust management fees if she helped create a safety violation severe enough to trigger the custody clause. They failed yesterday because of you."
He pushed the black binder across the desk toward her.
"From this moment on, Lia does not leave this estate without you and Marco," Rafaele said. "She does not eat food prepared outside this kitchen. She does not receive gifts, mail, or visitors without your personal inspection. You are her final line of defense."
Maeve touched the cool cover of the binder. "And what if your mother tries to override me?"
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Rafaele leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a strange, warm shiver through her chest.
"My mother does not run this house, Maeve," he said softly. "I do. You report only to me. If anyone—including my family—attempts to interfere with your duties, you tell me immediately."
