Chapter 7 - A Mother's Fire
Contessa Sofia Rossi looked like she had walked straight out of the pages of Italian *Vogue*—if *Vogue* were printed on solid ice.
She wore a white cashmere coat draped over her shoulders, crimson lipstick that matched the soles of her Louboutins, and enough diamonds to finance a small country. Behind her, two private bodyguards carried four matching Louis Vuitton trunks.
"Ricardo, darling," she purred, throwing her arms around him as he reached the bottom of the staircase. She kissed both of his cheeks with theatrical affection, which he received with all the warmth of a marble headstone. "My father insisted I come. With the docks so chaotic, he felt the city was unsafe for me. And of course, I simply *had* to see poor little Leo."
Her eyes drifted past Ricardo, landing immediately on me as I stepped onto the landing above. Her smile vanished, replaced by an expression of supreme disgust.
"And who is this?" Sofia asked, pulling off her leather gloves. "The new maid? I thought Mrs. Greco was handling the staff. Really, Ricardo, her uniform is atrocious."
"Clara Bennett," Ricardo said coldly. "Leo's governess. She reports only to me."
"Governess?" Sofia laughed, a sharp, tinkling sound devoid of joy. "How quaint. We'll find a proper European academy for him next month, of course. A boy of his blood needs structure, not... whatever this is."
The next morning, the mansion felt entirely different. Sofia's presence was like a toxic mist, creeping under every doorway. She demanded breakfast at noon, criticized the tea, and berated the staff continuously.
At two in the afternoon, Leo and I were in the sunroom. He was sitting on the rug, carefully assembling a wooden puzzle of wild animals, humming quietly to himself.
The glass doors clicked open. Sofia walked in, clutching a silk scarf and smelling overpoweringly of jasmine and tuberose.
Leo immediately froze. His small hands tightened over a wooden elephant. He shrank into my side.
"Still not speaking?" Sofia asked, looking down at him with disdain. "Elena spoiled him rotten. A child who can't speak at three is either defective or manipulative."
"He speaks when he feels safe," I said evenly, keeping my body between her and Leo. "And he is neither defective nor manipulative, Miss Rossi."
"I wasn't speaking to you, servant," Sofia snapped. She reached down, intending to snatch the wooden toy from Leo’s hands. "Give that to me, boy. Look at me when I enter a room. You will learn some manners before my father's dinner tonight."
"No!" Leo screamed, clutching the toy to his chest and jerking backward.
Sofia's face twisted in fury. Without thinking, her hand shot out, her manicured fingers aiming a sharp, open-handed slap directly toward Leo’s face.
She never made contact.
I caught her wrist in mid-air.
I gripped it with the full force of my body, twisting her arm just enough to force her backward onto her heels. Sofia gasped in shock, her eyes bulging.
"If you ever raise a hand to this child again," I said, my voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly hush, "I will snap your fingers one by one. I don't care who your father is. I don't care how many men he commands. Do not test me."
"You filthy, low-class bitch!" Sofia shrieked, struggling against my grip. "Take your hands off me! Guards! Ricardo!"
The double doors flew open.
Ricardo stepped into the sunroom, followed by two armed sentries. His gaze locked onto my hand gripping Sofia's wrist, then down to Leo, who was trembling behind my knees, clutching his elephant.
"Ricardo!" Sofia wailed, tears of rage springing to her eyes. "This lunatic attacked me! She threatened to break my bones! Fire her! Have her thrown into the street!"
Ricardo walked slowly across the Persian rug. The silence he brought with him was absolute.
He didn't look at Sofia. He looked at his son.
"Leo," Ricardo said quietly. "Did this woman try to hit you?"
Leo nodded once, a silent, terrified confirmation.
Ricardo turned his eyes to Sofia. The temperature in the room plummeted to absolute zero.
"Get your bags," Ricardo said.
Sofia blinked, stunned. "What? Ricardo, I am the daughter of Antonio Rossi! Our families are forging an alliance!"
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"Then tell your father the alliance is dead," Ricardo said, his voice flat, emotionless, and utterly final. "No one touches my son. And no one commands the woman who protects him. Pack your things. If you are on my property in thirty minutes, you will leave in a body bag."
***