Chapter 1 - The Rule Hannah Broke
Mia Romano crawled beneath the library desk and screamed without words.
When Victor Romano entered, Hannah Brooks was holding his sister beside a broken silver picture frame.
A folded piece of paper protruded from behind the photograph.
Three words were written across it.
DON’T TRUST LUCA.
Victor stopped breathing.
Eleven days.
That was how long Hannah Brooks had worked inside the Romano estate before she broke the one rule every employee learned before receiving a key card.
Do not touch Mia Romano.
Nobody explained the rule when Hannah was hired.
Mrs. Higgins, the severe housekeeper who had worked for the Romano family for twenty-seven years, simply handed Hannah a black dress, a white apron, and a printed sheet of instructions.
“Miss Romano is not to be touched, questioned, followed, or comforted. If she becomes distressed, summon security.”
Hannah had read the sentence twice.
“Comforted?”
Mrs. Higgins had looked at her over the rims of her glasses.
“Mr. Romano does not tolerate improvisation.”
Hannah had quickly learned that Victor Romano did not tolerate much of anything.
She rarely saw him during her first week.
But his presence seemed to live inside the mansion even when he wasn't there.
Men lowered their voices when his car entered the courtyard.
Security guards straightened.
Doors opened.
Conversations stopped.
Hannah knew the rumors.
Everyone in Chicago knew some version of them.
Victor Romano controlled businesses that never appeared on official paperwork. Men who crossed him tended to leave the city suddenly. Prosecutors had tried for years to connect his name to organized crime, but nothing ever stuck.
Hannah didn't care.
Not because she was fearless.
Because fear didn't pay medical bills.
Her mother, Carol Brooks, had spent almost two years moving between hospitals and rehabilitation centers after a serious cardiac illness. Insurance covered enough to keep the treatments going but not enough to prevent Hannah's life from collapsing beneath invoices.
The Romano estate paid triple what Hannah had earned cleaning hotel rooms.
It offered health insurance.
It offered overtime.
Most importantly, it offered no questions about the collection notices arriving at Hannah's apartment.
So Hannah polished the silver.
Changed linens.
Ignored the armed men.
And stayed away from Mia.
Until the storm.
The first thunderclap rattled the windows shortly after nine.
Hannah was replacing books in the west-wing library when she heard something.
Not thunder.
A whimper.
She froze.
Another sound came from behind the enormous oak desk.
Hannah walked around it.
Mia was underneath.
The eight-year-old had pressed herself into the narrowest corner, knees against her chest and palms over her ears.
Her dark hair covered most of her face.
Hannah immediately reached for the radio attached to her apron.
Protocol.
Call security.
But then lightning illuminated the windows.
Thunder exploded almost instantly.
Mia jerked so violently that her shoulder struck the desk.
A broken sound escaped her throat.
Hannah's hand stopped over the radio.
She knew that look.
Not from children.
From her mother.
There had been nights in intensive care when Carol couldn't speak because of the breathing tube. Nurses had talked around her as though she wasn't there.
Hannah had learned to read fear through eyes.
Mia's eyes were begging someone not to leave.
Hannah placed the radio on the carpet.
“Okay.”
Mia stared at her.
“I won't come closer.”
Hannah sat several feet away.
Another rumble rolled across the sky.
“You don't have to come out,” Hannah whispered. “I'll sit here.”
Mia's breathing remained fast.
Hannah slowly crossed her legs.
“My mom hates thunderstorms too.”
No response.
“She pretends she doesn't.”
Mia blinked.
“But she does.”
Hannah smiled faintly.
“When I was little, she'd make hot chocolate during storms. She claimed it was for me. It absolutely wasn't.”
For the first time, Mia's hands moved slightly away from her ears.
Hannah didn't reach for her.
She simply opened her arms.
“If you want.”
Mia stared.
Five seconds passed.
Then ten.
Thunder rolled again.
Mia moved.
Not cautiously.
She launched herself across the carpet.
Hannah barely had time to react.
The child slammed against her chest and wrapped both arms around her.
Hannah caught her.
“Oh, honey.”
Mia trembled violently.
Hannah forgot every rule.
She wrapped herself around the girl.
“It's okay.”
Mia clutched her apron.
“I've got you.”
Hannah began humming.
The melody came automatically, an old lullaby Carol used to sing while washing dishes.
Gradually, Mia's breathing slowed.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
At some point Hannah shifted backward against the desk.
Mia curled against her.
Her eyes closed.
Hannah couldn't believe it.
The child was asleep.
Then the library doors opened.
Three men entered first.
Hannah recognized them as Victor's personal security.
Victor followed.
His white shirt was damp from rain.
His suit jacket was gone.
Blood marked one knuckle.
The holstered pistol at his waist was visible.
He took two steps.
Stopped.
His eyes found Hannah.
Then Mia.
Hannah felt every drop of blood leave her face.
“Mr. Romano.”
Nobody answered.
“I can explain.”
Victor's expression remained unreadable.
“I heard her crying. I was going to call security.”
Victor stepped closer.
Hannah instinctively tightened her hold on Mia.
His eyes dropped toward Hannah's arms.
“I know the rule,” she whispered.
“Apparently not.”
The words were quiet.
That somehow made them worse.
One guard shifted.
Hannah swallowed.
“If you're going to fire me, I understand.”
Victor looked at her.
“But please wait until she wakes up.”
His eyes sharpened.
Hannah couldn't stop now.
“She finally fell asleep.”
Victor crouched.
For the first time Hannah saw something other than intimidation in his face.
Fear.
Not fear of her.
Fear for Mia.
“When?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“She slept through the thunder?”
“Yes.”
Victor looked stunned.
Mia hadn't slept through thunderstorms since the explosion.
Hannah didn't know that.
Victor did.
Two years earlier, Victor's older brother Antonio and Antonio's wife, Sofia, had been killed when an explosive device destroyed their vehicle.
Mia had been pulled from the wreckage alive.
After that night, she stopped speaking.
Doctors called it trauma-induced mutism.
Victor called it something else.
His failure.
He had been the intended target.
Every nightmare Mia suffered reminded him.
Victor slowly reached toward her.
Mia stirred.
He immediately withdrew his hand.
Hannah noticed.
Something about that tiny gesture changed the man in front of her.
This wasn't a crime lord approaching a fragile child.
This was a brother terrified that his presence might hurt her.
“What's your name?” he asked.
“Hannah.”
“Full name.”
“Hannah Brooks.”
His gaze remained on Mia.
Then Mia's fingers shifted.
Something slipped from her hand.
A small silver picture frame struck the carpet.
Victor frowned.
Hannah looked down.
“I didn't give her that.”
Victor picked it up.
The glass was cracked.
Inside was a photograph.
Antonio Romano.
Sofia.
Victor.
And a much younger Mia.
Victor stared at it.
Then he noticed something protruding behind the photograph.
Paper.
He opened the backing.
A folded note fell into his palm.
Hannah saw his expression change before she saw the writing.
Victor unfolded it.
Three words.
DON'T TRUST LUCA.
Hannah knew Luca Bellini.
Everyone did.
Victor's oldest friend.
His adviser.
The man who had practically run the estate during Victor's absences.
Victor read the message twice.
“Who wrote this?” Hannah whispered.
Victor didn't answer.
He turned the paper over.
His face changed again.
Hannah couldn't see what was there.
One of the guards stepped closer.
“Boss?”
Victor stood.
“Lock the estate.”
The guard stared.
“All entrances?”
“All of them.”
“What happened?”
Victor folded the note.
“Nobody leaves.”
Mia shifted against Hannah.
Victor looked toward the library entrance.
“Where's Luca?”
“He arrived twenty minutes ago.”
Victor's entire body became still.
“Where?”
“East corridor.”
Victor reached for his phone.
Before he could unlock it, footsteps sounded outside.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
Victor motioned for his men to stay silent.
Hannah's arms tightened around Mia.
The brass handle began turning.
Victor stared at the door.
Then a familiar male voice came from the other side.
“Victor? I know Hannah is in there.”
The handle stopped.
A second passed.
May you like
Then Luca Bellini added quietly:
“And I know what Mia found.”
