by Blake Pierce
“I don’t want your money. After everything that’s just happened? There’s no way I will take it. Please, put it back in your purse.”
Ms. Rossi’s gaze drilled through her. She spoke quietly, but each word was as sharp as the crack of a whip.
“If you refuse the money, that is your choice, but I will have your signature on this page saying that you accepted your wage and you were paid in full. You will not manufacture a reason to lay a complaint against me. Sign. Now. Or I call the police and accuse you of theft.”
Cassie’s hand was shaking so badly she could hardly use the pen. She scribbled an illegible signature on the paper, feeling clumsy and inadequate under the other woman’s withering gaze. She couldn’t bring herself to take the money. The notes lay untouched on the table.
“Go to your room now. The children and I will finish dinner without you.”
Cassie stood up and fumbled her way out of the office. Her eyes were blurred with tears. This situation was utterly horrific. The children were victims of targeted abuse. She should have realized earlier when she had seen the way they shut down and looked to each other for support, their closeness, their blind obedience to the rules, fearing punishment.
She knew what they had gone through because she and Jacqui had suffered abuse too.
Jacqui had stayed to protect Cassie for as long as she could endure. She had only left when Cassie was a teenager.
She hadn’t abandoned Cassie, the way that Cassie would be forced to turn her back on these young girls, and leave them to their fate.
Cassie’s head was a mess. This situation was causing the memories of long ago to bubble up again. She’d forgotten the fear and helplessness she felt, how she hadn’t dared to talk back to her father when he was in one of his violent tempers and how she’d tried her best to become invisible, so that he wouldn’t notice her and her mere presence would not end up angering him more.
She remembered how whenever she’d been home alone, she’d longed for Jacqui to come back, because the older girl would give her some degree of support and protection if things turned bad. Jacqui was the only person who understood what was really happening in their household, and that had forged a bond between them that Cassie knew could never be broken.
Letting out a sigh, she paced the room.
Was Jacqui dead? The uncertainty was weighing her down. The only way to find out the truth would be to drive to Bellagio and confront Mirabella at her boutique. She guessed she’d be able to do that sooner than later, since she’d just been fired.
The room felt claustrophobic and too warm. Cassie drew back the curtains, wanting to open the window and let in some fresh air.
Across the courtyard, she saw that the lights were still on in one of the children’s rooms. Now that she was more familiar with the layout of the house, Cassie realized it was Venetia’s room.
Venetia was standing near the window—but what was she doing?
Her breath was misting up the glass, so she wrenched the window open. Cold air filtered inside as she peered out, staring in disbelief at the scene playing out on the other side of the courtyard.
Venetia was standing stock still in the middle of her bedroom. Her arm was stretched out in front of her and she was holding something in it. A glass, filled to the brim with water. Cassie could see the expression on her face. Focused, desperate, pinched with fear as she fought to keep the glass steady.
Behind her stood Ms. Rossi, watching.
“No,” Cassie whispered. She could not believe the scene unfolding before her horrified eyes.
This was far worse than punishment—it was torture.
Venetia’s slim arm was starting to tremble. Her muscles must be burning in agony, the glass becoming a dead weight as she struggled to hold it still.
Cassie bit her lip as she saw Venetia was starting to shake with the effort.
Her arm quivered, and water splashed over the side of the glass.
Immediately, Ms. Rossi raised her hand. She was holding a thick, heavy leather belt.
Cassie screamed aloud as she whipped the young girl across her back with it, a vicious blow. Venetia’s body jerked in pain.
Ms. Rossi glanced out the window. She must have heard the scream. Cassie saw her stare across the courtyard and she knew she had seen the open curtain, and her own pale, shocked face watching this nightmare scene play out.
The fact she had a witness seemed to make no difference. With a terrible sense of helplessness, Cassie realized that the businesswoman knew she was completely under her power.
Calmly, Ms. Rossi turned her attention back to the horror she was presiding over.
She refilled the glass from a large bowl and handed it back to Venetia, who held it out again, staring in despair at her own quivering arm.
Again, water spilled, and again the belt lashed out, so hard that Venetia’s body convulsed.
“No,” Cassie whispered.
Memories surged inside her. Her father’s cry of rage and the way his belt had felt when it lashed across her arm or thigh—it had been as hard and heavy as an actual punch, and the pain had been sickening. Cassie remembered how the mark, thick and red, had throbbed and stung for hours, and then been tender for days, before the pain had gradually ebbed.
The difference was that her father had only hit in anger and never more than once. Cassie had often been quick enough to run away, so even a single lash with the belt had been a lucky shot for him, when she was trapped in a corner or he was too fast for her.
His girlfriends hadn’t used belts. Those women had attacked Cassie physically. Their abuse had been more frightening, as it was more out of control, but they weren’t as strong as her father, and it had been easier to struggle free.
In contrast, what she was watching was sustained, deliberate torment. It was clear that Ottavia Rossi intended to break her daughter completely.
There was no way Cassie could stand by and let it happen.
All the threats in the world, even what Ms. Rossi had said about accusing her of theft, could not hold her back from saving this young girl. The person who was supposed to care for her was tormenting her in a way that would leave permanent scars, not only physically but emotionally.
Anger gave her wings, and she sprinted out of the room.
Venetia’s door was closed, and she wrenched it open and stormed inside.
“Stop!” she shouted. “Stop this at once!”
Ms. Rossi had her arm drawn back, ready to whip her daughter again. Cassie lunged toward her, ready to snatch the belt from her hand or grab her arm or do whatever she could to stop another blow from landing.
The businesswoman gave a wordless exclamation when Cassie burst in, a roar that combined rage and frustration. Turning round, she lashed out at Cassie with the belt instead.
Cassie wasn’t quick enough to duck. The broad leather strap slapped across her face, the buckle slicing into her skin, and she screamed in agony. Stars exploded in her vision and she reeled back.
The belt hit her again, slamming into the side of her head, causing her eyes to water so badly that she was blinded.
Cassie knew this woman was demented. She was insane, and didn’t care who she hurt or what harm she caused. What would happen if she was unable to get the belt away from her? She feared Ms. Rossi would hit her over the head again and knock her out, carrying on with her abuse unabated, while Cassie lay unconscious on the floor.
Blinking tears away, she made a frantic grab for the belt, and by pure luck she managed to get her finger through the buckle.
She pulled hard, almost toppling Ms. Rossi off her platform heels. The businesswoman swore violently, dropping her makeshift weapon and grabbing at the chest of drawers to save herself. It wobbled, sending the water bowl tumbling to the floor. It hit the ground with a clatter and water sluiced across the tiles.
“Stop it!” Cassie screamed.
Her eyes were streaming from the pain of the blow but she clutched the belt in both hands, h
anging onto it with all her might. There was no way the other woman was getting it away from her. No way.
Ms. Rossi swore violently again. She dropped the belt and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Cassie was breathing hard and her blood was singing in her ears. Somehow, her intervention had brought an end to the horror—or had it?
Was this ogre of a woman going to get another belt, or some other weapon, and come back to continue her attack? She waited, watching the door, dreading to hear the return of those high, clicking heels.
A moment later the front door creaked and slammed.
Ms. Rossi had gone out.
Cassie let out a long, shaky breath. She was trembling all over and her face was throbbing from the blow. When she raised her hand to her cheek, it came away with a smear of blood. But her problems weren’t important now; they could wait.
“Are you OK, Venetia?”
The young girl had put the glass down and hidden behind the bed as soon as Cassie had tried to intervene.
Now she stood up. Her face was sheet white and she was shaking as hard as Cassie was.
“Everything’s all right.” Cassie held out her arms.
The young girl splashed across the sodden floor and ran into Cassie’s embrace, hugging her with all her strength as she sobbed.
Cassie stroked Venetia’s hair gently, wanting to hug her also, but knowing that her back would be in agony after the torture she’d been through, and that any touch would cause her pain.
“Thank you for helping me,” she said.
“It’s all right.” Cassie sniffed hard.
“I don’t know why Mama did that,” Venetia whispered. “I made a mistake. Why did I get punished so badly?”
“I don’t think anyone knows the answer. It’s not right, and people who are normal don’t do that kind of thing,” Cassie said, explaining as best she could. She didn’t want to tell Venetia outright that her mother was an abusive monster, but she had to make it clear that this behavior was unacceptable and she would never condone it.
“I will always try to help you and not allow anyone to hurt you that way,” Cassie promised, but she felt cold with fear inside, because she had been ordered to leave.
In another day, she would be gone, and she knew that the punishments and abuse would continue as normal—or might ramp up if Ms. Rossi felt she had a point to prove.
Protecting these girls through her own physical intervention was a short-term solution, like putting a Band-Aid over an embedded nail.
Cassie resolved that before she left, she was going to do everything in her power to save them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Cassie was worried that after storming out of the house, Ms. Rossi might return later and continue oppressing her children. Her father had sometimes done the same, and she remembered the fear she had felt when hearing him arrive home, drunker and angrier than when he had left. She was thankful that in this home, the front door made an audible scrape and crack when it opened, because it would at least give her some warning.
She left her bedroom door ajar and slept fitfully, jumping awake whenever she heard a sound. At around midnight, the front door opened and closed. Immediately, the house felt like a threatening place again.
Cassie got out of bed and tiptoed to the door so she could hear better, holding her breath as she listened, but to her relief, the businesswoman went straight to her bedroom. Checking through her window, she saw the children’s rooms remained dark.
She returned to bed and did her best to sleep, but she was so wired up with anxiety that she didn’t even feel drowsy. For the rest of the night, she tossed and turned, fretting about what would happen in the morning and running all the possible courses of action through her mind.
In the morning, when she came out of her bedroom, she heard Maurice arriving. He tapped on the master bedroom door while wishing Signora a good morning.
“I’ve brought your coffee.” His voice carried from down the corridor.
Cassie didn’t want to see Ms. Rossi, or speak to her, ever again. She waited until she’d heard them go to the study, before she headed to the children’s rooms. It was easy to time it right, because Maurice didn’t stop talking, and his voice carried.
“The video conference with Harrods’ top management went really well. I’ll fly over there next week and get everything signed, but it should just be a formality. And closer to home, has Signora decided on the preferred layout for refurbishing the Rossi offices?”
Cassie wondered if Maurice was speaking especially loudly so that she could hear. His voice sounded full of self-congratulation. Cassie’s dislike for him crystallized into loathing. How could he brag about unimportant things like meeting store owners and rearranging offices, when he was refusing to intervene in a clear-cut case of abuse that was destroying two young lives?
She was glad when they moved out of earshot and she didn’t have to listen to his pompous diatribe any longer.
When she went to the children’s rooms she found Nina and Venetia were ready for school, and Cassie greeted them calmly, trying to act normally in front of the two girls and not give away how panicked and helpless she felt.
“Let’s go and get you some breakfast,” she said, and they trooped down to the kitchen.
She noticed how Nina glanced warily at her mother’s bedroom door as they passed it. Cassie felt overwhelmed by despair, because she was realizing the extent of the fear that the children had to live with. They had nobody at all on their side, and there was no one who could stand up for them against the abuse. Maurice was complicit, while the household staff came and went and didn’t seem to interact with the children at all.
“What can I get you? Toast? Jam?”
Cassie helped the children prepare breakfast, making sure that the chores were shared between the three of them.
“You can be in charge of the toast, Venetia, and Nina, why don’t you slice us some cheese today?”
She didn’t want the children to feel the pressure of having to do every single thing by themselves, with the threat of punishment if any mistakes were made.
Despite her best efforts to infuse calm and cheer into the breakfast prep, Cassie realized she and the children were all on a knife’s edge. What had happened last night felt like unfinished business, and she was sure that Ms. Rossi intended to resume it, in her own time and her own way. Cassie found herself hoping that the grandmother’s arrival would be delayed, and that she would be able to stay a little longer to protect them, until all of this had blown over. At this point, every additional day would feel like a victory.
When Cassie heard a noise from the doorway she spun round, bracing herself for conflict. Nina dropped her knife and Venetia also turned anxiously to see who had arrived.
Maurice was at the door.
Cassie stared at him apprehensively, noticing the supercilious smile on his face.
“Morning, all,” he greeted them. “I understand you’re leaving us tomorrow, Cassie?”
Humiliated, because Maurice’s tone made it clear that he knew she’d been fired, Cassie nodded.
“Signora wanted to remind you that her mother is arriving today, and will be here at around two p.m. The household staff have been instructed to make up a bed in the small spare room in the children’s wing. Signora will only be arriving back later, but wanted to brief you and the family so that you can welcome Nonna.”
Trying to sound coolly polite, Cassie responded.
“We will, thank you.”
She knew she hadn’t come across the way she intended. She’d sounded frightened. Worse than that, she’d sounded weak.
Maurice’s smile widened.
“Here’s my business card. Signora asked that you contact me if there’s anything Nonna needs. I’ll organize it on her behalf as she’s rather busy today.”
Cassie took the card.
Maurice continued, in gleeful tones.
“Good day, all. I probably won
’t see you again, Cassie, so I wish you all the best with your future job hunting. Hope you eventually find a position that will suit. Goodbye, and buona fortuna.”
The phrase which Cassie recognized as “good luck” sounded deliberately insincere.
Maurice turned and marched away.
Nina stared at Cassie, horrified.
“Are you going to leave?” she asked, and Cassie could hear the quiver in her voice.
Both she and Venetia looked on the point of tears.
“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve made sure that both of you are safe, and that nobody will do anything bad to you,” Cassie said firmly.
She felt sick inside, because she had no idea how she was going to keep her word. She might have made the children a false promise, which would only add to their trauma. Imagine if the only person who had stood up for them, and vowed to help them, vanished from their lives forever? What would that do to them? Already, they had no reason to trust adults, since the person who should be their protector had become their tormentor.
“Do you know Nonna well?” she asked. “Do you like spending time with her?”
Nina shook her head wordlessly but Venetia offered, “She does not say much to us, or speak at all.”
Cassie felt increasingly troubled, especially since this woman was Ottavia Rossi’s mother. The businesswoman might have learned her abusive ways from her, and if so, this would mean that the children would be in a worse predicament than before.
Even so, she clung to the hope that a round-faced, warm-hearted, loving grandma would arrive at two p.m.
Neither of the children ate all their breakfast and Cassie could see that they were upset and fearful all over again. She didn’t have any appetite either and was feeling nauseous with tension. She had to do something to help them.
“Giuseppe will be here soon,” Nina said, and they trailed upstairs to get their bags.
A minute later, they filed silently out of the house and Cassie found herself alone again.
She leaned on the kitchen counter and buried her head in her hands while thinking furiously. There must be a local Child Protection Services, or a social worker, that she could call. She had no idea where to start, and didn’t want to stay in the house while she investigated, because she was worried about what the cameras might pick up.
