Whispers in the Mansion
Amara awoke with a start in the middle of the night. Isabella was sound asleep beside her, her tiny fingers clutching Amara's hand. The mansion was quiet—too quiet.
She slipped out of bed carefully and padded toward the hallway. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs. But then she heard it—whispers.
Following the sound, she moved cautiously until she reached the library door, slightly ajar. She peered inside.
Two of Lorenzo's men stood inside, speaking in hushed tones.
"Boss says the girl stays," one of them muttered.
"The nanny? But Marco wants her."
"Yeah, and that's exactly why she's dangerous. If Marco gets to her, it'll be war."
Amara's breath caught in her throat. She leaned closer, her heart pounding.
"Do you think she knows?" the second man asked.
"No. She's just some girl who walked into the wrong house at the wrong time. But if she finds out why Marco wants her… things could get ugly."
Amara's stomach twisted. Why does Marco want me? What are they hiding from me?
A floorboard creaked under her foot, and the men instantly turned toward the door. Amara panicked and slipped back into the shadows, her pulse racing. She hurried up the stairs and slid into Isabella's room, closing the door quietly.
Moments later, she heard footsteps in the hall, lingering as if someone was checking. Finally, they faded.
Amara pressed her back against the door, trembling. She glanced at Isabella, who slept peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing around them.
And Amara knew one thing—if she didn't uncover the truth soon, she might not survive whatever war was coming.
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