Chapter 5: Gathering Evidence

I awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Heart racing, I bolted upright in bed, sheets tangled around my legs.

Another crash echoed through my chambers, followed by the unmistakable sound of an intruder knocking over a vase in the study. I froze, listening intently. Heavy, shuffling footsteps creaked across the floor. Someone was in my room.

Pulse thundering, I slipped silently from bed and grabbed the first weapon my hands found - a heavy pewter candlestick. I hefted its solid weight, taking comfort in the makeshift club.

Creeping on bare feet, I eased open my bedroom door. Darkness shrouded the study beyond. Gripping my candlestick, I peered around the door frame.

Moonlight filtering through tall windows illuminated a hulking figure rifling through my desk, their back to me. I poised ready to strike, unwilling to be caught defenseless again by any late-night intruder. Especially one who seemed intent on ransacking my private documents.

I cleared my throat sharply. “Turn around. Slowly.”

The figure jerked upright, surprise evident in their silhouette. They raised open palms in surrender and began turning to face me.

My breath caught as their features became visible in the dim light. “Marco?”

The broad-shouldered groundskeeper looked equally shocked to see me. “Miss Lily,” he gasped. “I did not think you would be awake.”

I lowered the candlestick, pulse still racing. “Clearly. What are you doing here?”

Marco's gaze darted about shiftily. “I needed to speak with you. Urgently. But this was unwise—” He broke off at a faint scuffle of footsteps in the hall.

Before I could react, Marco grabbed my wrist, yanking me into the dark corner behind the study door just as it burst open. I barely stifled a yelp as Marco clapped one large hand over my mouth.

We stood flattened against the wall, Marco's powerful frame concealing me completely from view as two guards strode into the study, gripping nasty looking batons.

"Check in there," I heard one rough voice order. The intruders moved toward my bedroom.

Marco and I scarcely dared breathe. After an agonizing minute, the guards returned to the study, grunting in frustration.

"No one here. Must have been that damned cat again knocking things over." The pair trudged out, letting the heavy door slam carelessly behind them.

Marco released me with an apologetic look. "Apologies, miss. I should not have startled you so."

My adrenaline was still pumping. “I could have taken your head off with that candlestick. What were you thinking sneaking in here?”

Marco ran a hand through his rumpled dark hair. “Desperate times. I come with a warning.” His usually kind brown eyes were grim.

I crossed my arms. “This had better be good.”

He glanced anxiously toward the door before continuing. “The Young Master grows suspicious. He knows you seek ways to undermine him. Today he demanded I...” Here Marco faltered, shame creeping into his voice. “He demanded I spy upon you. I refused, of course. But others on staff may not.”

My blood turned to ice. The Young Master had to be Luca. Of course that serpent would be watching me closely.

I tried keeping my voice steady. “What exactly are these suspicions?”

Marco shifted his weight. “He believes you may be...attempting to remove him. Permanently. So you might advance in the Family yourself.”

I let out a harsh laugh. “He thinks I’m plotting to kill him? Ridiculous.”

Inside, my thoughts churned anxiously. Could Luca have discovered my late night break-in to read his private journal? I'd found plenty of damning words written there in his own elegant hand about his despicable intentions toward me. But plotting actual murder? Only in my darkest moments of rage.

Marco nodded gravely. “I do not believe this of you myself. But the Young Master can be very convincing. And very dangerous.” His dark eyes implored me to heed his warning.

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Luca was clearly trying to get ahead of me exposing damaging secrets from his journal. But I could use this phony murder plot to my advantage if I played it right.

I met Marco’s gaze. “You took great risk coming here tonight. I’m in your debt.” I placed my hand sincerely over his. “Please, be careful.”

Marco nodded. "I will do my best. You as well, miss."

With that he slipped soundlessly out the door, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts. I had to make a choice, and soon. Stay silent about the journal to avoid a direct war with Luca and his false accusations? Or go to the Don with what I'd uncovered, even if it meant playing into Luca’s plot?

I paced the study, weighing my options. Tell the Don everything and hope he saw through his son’s lies? That felt dangerous with Luca’s poison already dripping in his ear. Bide my time and gather more proof? But then Luca might fabricate worse schemes against me.

Frustrated, I sank down among the pile of books still strewn across my desk from my late-night research. I noticed one leather-bound volume askew near the edge. Luca’s journal, which had started this whole mess!

On impulse, I cracked it open again, seeking anything I might have missed. If I was going to use it against him, I needed to know every damning detail written in this eloquent hand.

I flipped through endless pages of transactions and tallies, searching for personal entries. It was difficult to reconcile the cold precision of the numbers filling most of the journal with the vile lack of conscience Luca displayed on the scattered confession pages littered between.

Near the back, one entry in particular caught my eye. The date was shortly after my arrival at the estate, when I still quailed under the Don's penetrating scrutiny during every etiquette lesson. When Luca was learning my weaknesses, probing for cracks in my armor. This entry described that period in visceral detail:

June 17 - The little dove remains decidedly ruffled since her arrival. Isabella drones endlessly about her lacking refinement and shocking ignorance of cultured society. As if true gentility stems from knowing which spoon to use! Still, I must acknowledge some latent intrigue beneath the timid exterior.

She is not entirely hopeless. Quite lovely in her own way, if one admires the waifish and frail. Her spirit could perhaps be cultivated and sharpened if cracks were properly exploited. Fear still dominates those wide eyes, but flickers of defiance slip through when she thinks none are watching. I am watching, little dove. Very closely.

A wry smile twisted my lips. So Luca had been studying me from the beginning, even as I strove to avoid attracting any attention. His admissions here aligned too closely with Marco's warnings tonight to be coincidence.

Reading on, Luca's true manipulations became even clearer:

July 2 - She improves rapidly under Father's intense tutelage. I applaud her tenacity, if not her transparent sycophancy toward him. No matter. She will learn her proper place soon enough.

Tonight I was able to apply some light pressure out of Father's sight. A few gentle caresses here, a whispered innuendo there while we dined. How satisfying to watch her composure crack, see outrage blazing in those sea-foam eyes. Threatening me with her dessert fork was an especially charming riposte! This mouse has teeth if provoked. I will take great pleasure coaxing them from hiding, one by one.

July 9 - Such fun we have been having these nights. A dance of subtle provocation and witty repartee. She parries beautifully when I press too brashly. But already her eyes follow me with new curiosity when she believes I do not notice. Soon those fangs will retract before they can pierce. My shy little dove is spreading her wings, though she does not yet realize it is the viper's embrace she seeks...

Disgust roiled through me. Even back then, he had been calculating ways to rattle me, using fear or inappropriate touches. Toying with me for his own twisted amusement. I should burn this vile journal right now and rid myself of its poison!

But one bitter phrase caught my eye further down the page:

The novelty of a new plaything brought into our gilded cage has nearly worn off for my part. She is too restrained, too biddable by half for my tastes. I thought to sculpt her into something deliciously provocative, but the poor lamb has scarcely any daring or viciousness in her soul. I will soon grow weary of this game without more fire. Perhaps it is time to end the diversion...

Fresh determination steeled my spine. So he thought me a timid lamb, did he? A dull, passive toy for his amusement? Very well.

I would give him a taste of my true fire soon enough. But I must be strategic. Luca held all the power here on his home turf. I needed to draw him out, stage the confrontation somewhere his guards and spies could not interfere.

My mind raced, analyzing each revelation from Luca's damning journal. Then it struck me - the perfect location to entrap him, using his own arrogance against him.

The abandoned Brightmoor Manor on the outskirts of the city. Once a sprawling estate rivaling this mansion, now left derelict since the gruesome murders that had occurred there years ago. Luca enjoyed dragging me out on long rides to admire the ruins. He delighted in recounting the bloody tales of depravity and madness behind its cracked walls, hoping to rattle my composure.

Little did he know those grisly stories meant nothing to me. Only one detail mattered - thanks to its sinister reputation, Brightmoor Manor was completely isolated and avoided by all. The perfect stage to confront Luca.

Satisfied with my plan, I carefully replaced the journal amidst the chaos still strewn atop my desk. Tonight had illuminated the path forward.