Chapter 1: The Blood-Stained Glove
“Do you know what happens to servants who forget their place?””
Camilla Ashford’s voice cut through the laughter of the grand hall like a blade.
Adeline Croft stopped walking.
For eleven days, she had perfected the art of disappearing inside the Marchetti estate. She knew which corridors were safest, which servants avoided eye contact, and which doors were never opened without permission.
But she had never expected her own name to become tonight’s entertainment.
Camilla stood beneath the golden chandelier, surrounded by wealthy guests who laughed at jokes they didn’t find funny and smiled at people they secretly feared.
The heiress lifted her silver riding crop.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.””
Adeline slowly raised her eyes.
“Yes, Miss Ashford.””
Camilla smiled.
“That’s better.””
The crystal tray in Adeline’s hands trembled slightly.
Not because she was afraid of Camilla.
Because she was afraid of what happened after people like Camilla decided they disliked someone.
In the Marchetti household, cruelty was rarely loud.
It was usually quiet.
A missing paycheck.
A false accusation.
A sudden dismissal.
A person simply disappearing from the staff list.
“I heard you’ve been asking questions,” Camilla said.
The room grew quieter.
Adeline’s expression remained controlled.
“I don’t understand.””
“Don’t pretend to be innocent.””
Camilla stepped closer.
“You arrived here with no references, no family connections, and somehow Enzo Marchetti personally approved your employment.””
A few guests exchanged looks.
Adeline tightened her grip on the tray.
“I was hired to work, Miss Ashford.””
“Exactly.””
Camilla leaned in.
“So work.””
She tapped the tray with the riding crop.
“Stop looking around like you belong here.””
The words struck harder than Adeline expected.
Because they weren’t new.
She had heard versions of them her entire life.
People like you.
People like us.
The invisible line between them.
She lowered her head.
“I apologize if I have caused any inconvenience.””
Camilla laughed.
“You apologize very well.””
Then she hit the tray.
The sound exploded across the hall.
One champagne glass fell.
It shattered.
Adeline instinctively stepped back.
A sharp piece of crystal cut through her glove.
Blood appeared.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Camilla smiled.
“There.””
She looked around at the guests.
“Now everyone knows she made a mistake.””
Adeline knelt to collect the broken glass.
“Leave it.””
The command froze the entire room.
Enzo Marchetti stood at the top of the staircase.
Nobody had heard him arrive.
Nobody ever did.
He looked down at the scene with an expression colder than the marble beneath Adeline’s knees.
His gaze moved to her injured hand.
Then to Camilla.
“Did you do that?””
Camilla immediately changed.
The confidence disappeared.
“Enzo, darling, she dropped the tray.””
Silence.
Everyone knew it was a lie.
But nobody wanted to be the first person brave enough to say so.
Enzo walked down the stairs.
“No.””
Camilla frowned.
“What?””
“No. She didn’t.””
His eyes remained on her.
“You struck the tray.””
Camilla’s jaw tightened.
“You’re embarrassing me.””
“No.””
Enzo stopped beside Adeline.
“You embarrassed yourself.””
Nobody spoke.
Not even Camilla.
Adeline expected him to punish her.
That was how this world worked.
Power protected power.
The powerless were blamed.
But Enzo only looked at the blood on her glove.
“Why are you bleeding?””
“I’m fine, sir.””
“That wasn’t my question.””
Adeline hesitated.
“Because the glass broke.””
Something changed in his expression.
Only for a second.
But she saw it.
Anger.
Not toward her.
Toward someone else.
“Get the medical kit,” he ordered.
The room obeyed instantly.
Twenty minutes later, Adeline stood alone in the servants’ corridor.
The bandage around her finger felt heavier than it should.
Because kindness from dangerous people was rarely free.
And Enzo Marchetti was the most dangerous man she had ever met.
“Adeline.””
She turned.
Mrs. Bellini stood behind her.
The head housekeeper looked toward the ballroom.
“You made a mistake tonight.””
Adeline frowned.
“I was attacked.””
“That doesn’t matter.””
The older woman lowered her voice.
“Here, truth is not always protection.””
“Then what is?””
Mrs. Bellini stared at the locked doors leading to the private wing.
“Knowing what secrets are worth keeping.””
Before Adeline could ask another question, a crash echoed from upstairs.
A man shouted.
Mrs. Bellini’s face turned pale.
Not angry.
Not annoyed.
Terrified.
“Go to the kitchen,” she whispered.
“Who is upstairs?””
Mrs. Bellini looked at her.
May you like
And for the first time since Adeline arrived, the woman looked afraid of her.
“Someone who should have stayed dead.””
