by Blake Pierce
There were a few personal papers belonging to Ms. Rossi—a copy of her passport in the bottom desk drawer, together with a hardcover diary for the year just past, which had meeting dates and travel plans neatly written inside.
Cassie paged through the diary but found nothing helpful. She remembered Ms. Rossi saying that they had divorced a few months ago, but nothing in the diary pointed to it. There were so many meetings with so many legal people, that she couldn’t tell which were for business and which were personal.
After a frustrating hour in the office, she abandoned her search. If there was evidence here, it was beyond her ability to find.
The only other place that she could look was in Ms. Rossi’s bedroom.
A few months ago, that room would have been occupied by the married couple, and perhaps there were still some of his belongings there. Cassie found she was still pinning her hopes on a business card, with his work number and cell number.
Cassie knew that if she was discovered snooping in the bedroom, she would be in trouble, but she felt emboldened by anger on the girls’ behalf. Besides, Ms. Rossi was out all day, and if she came back, Cassie would hear the front door opening. As Maurice Smithers had explained to her, this noisy door could be heard all the way from upstairs.
She headed upstairs, and hesitated for only a moment before pushing open the master bedroom door.
Inside, Cassie was struck by the extreme tidiness of the room. There wasn’t so much as a wrinkle in the rose gold bedcovers, and the crystal chandelier that hung from the high ceiling looked spotless.
Her second impression was that the room, with its white-painted furniture, cerise cushions and floral artworks, looked very feminine. She wondered if Ms. Rossi might have redecorated completely after her husband left, which would account for everything looking so fresh and new. If so, it would mean that she’d cleared out all of his belongings.
Even so, she pushed ahead with her search. She opened the delicate bedside drawers and searched through the contents. One was empty and the other contained items clearly belonging to Ms. Rossi. The chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room was where blankets and towels were kept, and the dressing table held perfume and cosmetics.
The spacious dressing room was packed with clothes and Cassie had never in her life seen so many shoes. There was an entire cupboard devoted to them, and another, smaller set of drawers where jewelry, sunglasses, and accessories were organized.
It was almost as if her husband had never existed. Every trace of his presence had been erased from the family home. Never mind the business card Cassie had been hoping to find—she couldn’t even see a discarded necktie or a pair of cufflinks.
Discouraged, she left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
As she reached it, she heard an odd trilling noise.
It took her a moment to realize that the landline was ringing. It was the very first time since she had been there that she’d heard it ring.
There was nobody in the kitchen, and she wondered if she should let the call go through to voicemail, but then decided it would be better to answer. She needed information, and every phone call to the house represented an opportunity to gather it.
She picked it up.
“Rossi residence, Cassie speaking,” she said formally.
“I thought I should warn you.”
The caller was a woman, her voice sharp and angry. Cassie drew in a shocked breath as she realized that Ms. Rossi herself was on the line.
“Warn me? About what?”
Her mind raced, thinking immediately of the children. Had there been a security breach, or an incident somewhere nearby? They were safely in bed having their nap, or at least, they had been an hour ago.
“I have cameras installed throughout my home,” Ms. Rossi told her, and Cassie drew in a sharp, shocked breath.
How long had she been watching? What had she seen? Would she replay the footage and find out what Cassie had been doing, and the extent of her search?
Cassie felt appalled by this revelation.
“I was just checking quickly for—” she began, her voice quivering, knowing that there was no justification to explain her actions.
Ms. Rossi didn’t give her a chance to get the words out.
“I would advise you to mind your own business from here on. Trust me when I tell you it will be in your best interests to do so.”
With a click, she disconnected.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cassie replaced the phone clumsily, shaken by the revelation that the house had internal surveillance in place. In such a security-conscious household, she should have guessed cameras would be installed. She had no idea where they were located, and now that she’d been found out, she was scared to look.
It was possible that Ms. Rossi was watching her at this very moment.
With her head bowed, Cassie made her way up the marble staircase. She went to her room and shut herself inside. She hoped there were no cameras here, but knew that there could well be. This was Ms. Rossi’s home and her rules. Cassie had made an unforgivable mistake by embarking upon her reckless search.
She’d expected Ms. Rossi would have fired her immediately. She hadn’t, but that didn’t mean that there would be no consequences. Of course there would be. Now she had to wait and see what would unfold. She felt sick with dread.
Ashamed, and afraid of being in the cameras’ eye, Cassie hid away in her room until early evening, when it was time to get the children up and dressed. After waking them, she heard the front door opening and smelled food being prepared in the kitchen. It seemed that Ms. Rossi was home for the evening and Cassie felt her stomach twist in fear.
However, as Ms. Rossi walked inside, she was speaking on the phone. Her voice sounded strained.
“Yes, Maurice. Please ask the police to dispatch a vehicle immediately. The vehicle was a black SUV. I unfortunately didn’t see the plates. No, I have no idea. There might not have been a plate on the front of the car.”
Cassie leaned over the balcony, grasping the rail anxiously as she listened to the one-sided conversation below.
“Yes. They were standing outside my house when I arrived and when they saw me, they jumped back into the car and sped off. They must do a thorough check of our property. Thank you, Maurice.”
She disconnected. Looking up, she saw Cassie.
“There has been a security breach,” she explained. “I arrived home to find a car parked outside the house. Two men were about to scale the wall. They fled as soon as I arrived. Maurice is calling our local security company and the police, who should be here in a few minutes.”
“Oh, that’s so frightening. I didn’t hear anything, and nobody broke into the house. The children are safe. They’ve been having a nap,” Cassie said.
She ran back upstairs and closed her bedroom curtains. She glanced out into the darkness as she did so, terrified at the thought that the house, or the girls, might have been targeted. This was a serious threat; these were real criminals. What would have happened if Ms. Rossi hadn’t seen them, and they had broken into the home?
She hoped that they were not still out there, waiting in the dark. No wonder Ms. Rossi had cameras installed, and monitored them frequently, if incidents like this occurred.
Cassie went to the children’s rooms and drew their curtains. Then she sat with them quietly until she heard voices downstairs.
They were speaking Italian, but from the tone of the voices she guessed nothing was wrong.
“Grazie di tutto,” she overheard Ms. Rossi say in grateful tones, before the door closed.
Thank you for everything. Cassie remembered that phrase from her book.
She and the children trooped downstairs and took their seats in the small dining room.
Ms. Rossi made no mention of the incident. They ate in silence. Cassie was quivering with tension, and even though the food was tasty, she had to force herself to choke it down. With this incident over, she knew tha
t Ms. Rossi’s attention would be redirected onto Cassie’s own misdemeanors, and she anticipated that at any moment, she might be summarily fired.
She glanced from Nina to Venetia and back again as the family ate, wishing that the girls would open up to her. She felt as trapped as they were, in the iron grasp of an abusive woman who had them under such tight control that neither child would speak a word.
Nina was icily self-possessed, taking delicate bites of her food and eating soundlessly. Venetia seemed to be more rattled. She was picking at her food and fidgeting on her chair. Cassie watched her, concerned. She didn’t know whether Venetia was upset by what she’d been through the previous day, or if she simply didn’t like the prawn pasta which the cook had prepared. Given that punishments in this house often seemed to involve withholding food, Cassie was grateful that Venetia had eaten well at lunch time.
In a normal family, she knew this behavior would certainly have been noticed. Cassie imagined how Venetia would be asked if everything was all right, and encouraged to try the food. If she genuinely didn’t like prawns, a caring parent might provide an alternative just to ensure she didn’t go to bed hungry.
In the uneasy silence, Cassie found herself elaborating on her own version of reality, creating scenarios in her head as she ate.
And then Venetia reached for her water, but the glass slipped out of her hand and fell onto the table with a bang.
Water sluiced across the wooden surface, splattering over Nina’s plate and spilling onto Ms. Rossi’s lap.
Cassie’s gasp of horror was echoed by Venetia’s own terrified intake of breath.
“I’m sorry,” Venetia squeaked.
She sounded mortified, and Cassie noticed that in her distress, the young girl glanced at her as if appealing for help.
Cassie was already on her feet, reaching for table napkins to mop up the spill.
“It’s OK,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “It’s just water. No harm done.”
Ms. Rossi cleared her throat, managing to stop Cassie in her tracks with the sound.
“You will not interfere,” she said in a quiet, cold voice. “My daughter is the one who made the mess, and she is the one who will clean it.”
Venetia jumped up, looking stricken. Cassie noticed that Nina kept her eyes down, clearly too intimidated to speak a word.
“What a clumsy little girl you are,” Ms. Rossi continued in that soft, terrible voice as Venetia began to mop up the spill. “You are worthless to me and don’t even deserve to be called my daughter. You are a disgrace to us all—to me, to your family.”
Cassie clapped a hand over her mouth, staring at Ms. Rossi in horror as the vicious tirade of abuse continued.
“You have been fidgeting and misbehaving the whole way through dinner. I knew this was going to happen. I was waiting for you to show all of us how stupid you are, and you have done so now. In fact, you are not only stupid, but also ugly inside and out. I am ashamed of you, and you do not deserve to be called my daughter.”
Cassie stared from mother to daughter and back again. She had never believed a parent could say such things—and in front of a stranger, too?
Ms. Rossi seemed calm, choosing her words with leisurely care, and Cassie sensed that this abuse was not just a furious outburst, but was calculated to cause the maximum of emotional hurt and harm. Venetia had shut down completely. Her mouth was pressed together and her eyes were downcast, and only her rapid breathing and the shuddering of her shoulders showed Cassie the devastation that these words were wreaking.
Cassie suddenly realized why Ms. Rossi was speaking this way in front of her. It was because the businesswoman knew that she had the upper hand now. She had proof of Cassie rooting around in her private space, and this meant that she could hold her to ransom.
Ms. Rossi was in control now, and saw no need to carry on hiding what she did.
With a jolt, Cassie realized that meant she had nothing to lose, because she had lost it all already. In that case, she wasn’t going to wait for one more moment and listen to those vicious insults being flung at the miserable young girl.
“Stop it!” she cried, and saw everyone’s head jerk toward her.
Nina looked astounded. Venetia looked grateful for the unexpected intervention. Ms. Rossi appeared furious. Cassie saw the anger in her face, raw and vicious, before her mask came down again and the brief display of emotion was gone.
“This is your own daughter! All she did was knock over a water glass. It isn’t a crime. It didn’t stain. The glass didn’t even break.” Cassie gestured impatiently at the undamaged crystal. “I can’t sit here and listen to you unfairly criticize this little girl for making an innocent mistake. That’s what it was, a mistake. She’s eight years old. Her hands are small and that’s a big, heavy glass. I refuse to allow you to throw these horrific insults at her for something that wasn’t even her fault. I will not be complicit in this any longer, because it’s nothing more than child abuse.”
Cassie leaned toward the other woman, gesturing wildly as she spat out the final words.
Nobody else said anything, and the expectant silence seemed louder than her shouting had been.
Cassie dropped her hands and sank back down into her chair. Now that she’d retaliated, fear was creeping in. She had dared to defy a powerful, entitled woman who had proved she was an expert in the art of revenge.
She had crossed a forbidden line, and was going to suffer consequences. She felt it in the heaviness of the atmosphere, and she saw it in Ms. Rossi’s eyes as the other woman looked directly at her.
Worse still, Cassie feared that by speaking up, she might have made things even worse for Venetia. Guilt filled her at the thought, and she wished she’d considered it before she’d jumped up and shouted in the heat of the moment.
“You will come with me now, so that we can discuss this in private,” Ms. Rossi said in a deliberately soft voice.
Cassie found herself scrambling to her feet before the words had even sunk in.
Ms. Rossi swept out of the room and Cassie followed, dreading to think what punishment her actions had earned.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cassie trailed on leaden feet into Ms. Rossi’s immaculate office. She waited until the businesswoman seated herself and gestured for Cassie to do the same. Then she perched on a chair and stared across the expanse of desk at her employer.
Her face was expressionless and Cassie saw that she didn’t let her mask slip often, or for long.
“That camera footage was very interesting to me,” Ms. Rossi began.
Cassie caught her breath in horror, because she hadn’t thought that this subject would come up so soon.
“I had no idea you were so curious about the contents of my study, and even the possessions in my bedroom,” the businesswoman continued.
Cassie could say nothing in her defense. Her actions were indefensible. She stared down at the desk’s polished surface, feeling her face burn.
Then Ms. Rossi’s next words had Cassie jerk her head up again in consternation.
“It’s a coincidence that you should have been caught on camera doing this, while at the same time I arrived home to find a strange car outside, and intruders trying to break into my home.”
Cassie stared at her incredulously.
Had the strange vehicle been real at all, or had Ms. Rossi invented the intruders to cement Cassie’s guilt? Had she made up the whole scenario, and the description of the car, to provide another layer of proof when she “discovered” the footage of Cassie searching through her belongings and valuables?
“I am sure you see what I mean,” Ms. Rossi continued, her voice filled with quiet satisfaction. “Of course, I am already aware some valuables have gone missing.”
Cassie drew in a sharp breath.
“But I didn’t—” she began, mortified.
The other woman gave her a small smile.
“Your word against mine. Who will the police believe? We have had inci
dents before this in our neighborhood, where temporary staff have been found to be informers for professional criminals. Or, of course, petty thieves on their own account.”
The word lashed Cassie like a whip.
“So, now we have confirmed your standing in this household, let us move on. Firstly, you will not speak out of turn again. My daughters will be raised the same way I was. If I punish them, it is because they deserve it. They will be wealthy, successful adults one day, just as I am. However, I will not allow you to work with them any longer. I have arranged for my mother to make the move here earlier. She will arrive tomorrow and will supervise the children in your place.”
Ms. Rossi stared at her over her tortoiseshell frames, and Cassie saw the coldness in her eyes.
“You will not speak about anything you have seen or heard here. If you do, trust me when I say that the whole of the Italian police force will be on the lookout for you. We are a high-profile family and people take us seriously. It would go very badly for you if I had to explain to them how I discovered you were hurting and punishing my children.”
Cassie felt herself shrivel inside at the words.
Ms. Rossi understood she was committing abuse. Of course she did, and this showed Cassie she knew how wrong her actions were. If Cassie tried to expose her, Ms. Rossi would make sure she was blamed for it.
She’d seen how the children had been trained to remain silent. Cassie was sure that to protect themselves, they would also end up protecting their mother.
There was nothing she could do. She had just been checkmated.
“Within forty-eight hours, I want you gone.”
Ms. Rossi reached into her handbag and took out a sheaf of hundred-Euro bills. She counted a few notes off the pile, opened a folder, and pushed the money across the desk.
“Here are your wages for a full month. Sign on the bottom of this page, to say you have received full and final payment.”
Cassie let out a surprised gasp.
