Scene 1 (The Spy's Silence)
The 'intruder' knelt in the center of the mansion's living room. His hands were bound behind him, and his knees pressed into the cold marble. Even in the midst of his enemies, he still looked defiant like a soldier who was in the enemy's camp.
The staff remained at the edges of the room, their eyes wide and hushed, and their breaths were uneasy, but swallowed by the heavy silence. Nina held her apron so hard her knuckles whitened while Harris stood to the side, his jaw tight, eyes shiny like steel under the chandelier.
Marcus's footsteps cut the quiet like blades. It was calm, deliberate, predatory. He stopped directly in front of the kneeling figure.
"Why are you here?" Marcus's voice was low, steady, and each word carried weight.
The intruder laughed. Not loud, but hollow—like the sound of a shovel striking an empty grave.
"You think I'll betray my oath here?" His voice rasped, foreign and sharp. "I'll never surrender. My loyalty is to the De Rossi Family."
A ripple of gasps spread through the servants, as everyone knew the name. A mafia dynasty known for toppling empires by targeting the heirs first, cutting off the bloodline before the throne could be passed on. They weren't thieves. They were butchers.
Alexa's fingers itched at her side. The air inside the mansion dropped several degrees colder. She looked at Aaron's room slightly; he was asleep—innocent, oblivious. A chill tightened her chest. So that's why you're here.
Marcus, on the other hand, didn't flinch; he didn't even blink. His expression was carved from stone.
"De Rossi," he repeated, his baritone sinking like lead. "Of course."
The spy's chuckle deepened, as if proud. "We know the routine. Your heir is marked. Your line will be nothing but dust in weeks."
Before Harris or anyone else could react, Marcus's hand shot out. He ordered them to stay still as he held the spy by the shoulder and used his eyes to threaten him. But straightened afterwards.
"You've said enough." Marcus's voice was controlled but edged with something dangerous—something that made even Alexa stiffen. "Harris. Take him to my study. Now."
"Yes, sir." Harris pulled the spy to his feet, shoving him forward.
"But, sir—" Alexa started, but her voice was sharper than she intended it to be. "Why the study? Why not finish him here?"
Marcus then turned to her, as his eyes were like a storm she wasn't invited into. "Because I have… questions." The way he said it—measured, cryptic, final—made it clear it wasn't for discussion.
He turned on his heel. "Everyone, dismissed."
The staff immediately scattered like startled birds, and as they whispered under their breaths, they disappeared into the mansion's dark veins. The living room thinned until only the tick of the grandfather clock remained.
Alexa turned to follow, but Marcus's voice cut her short.
"Not you."
Her spine stiffened as she turned back, and his shadow stretched long across the marble as he looked at her—direct, unreadable, the weight of a man who'd already decided her fate before she even spoke.
Aaron slept soundly in the corner, untouched by the storm brewing above him.
And just like that, Alexa realized the real interrogation hadn't even begun.
Scene 2 (Shadows and Promises)
"Come with me."
Marcus's voice broke through the tension like it was the snap of a lock. It wasn't raised, wasn't rushed either, because it didn't need to be. Alexa froze, almost thinking she'd misheard.
"…Me?" she asked, carefully, her brows raised.
His eyes cut back to her with a cold, deliberate look, with no words. Just that unblinking authority that made people obey without thinking.
Alexa quickly swallowed her questions and followed, her footsteps deliberately softer than his heavier strides, as they ascended the grand staircase together, their shadows stretched long on the marble as the chandelier light swayed above them.
For a few moments, there was a long moment of silence between them. Just their footsteps and the creak of the steps under Marcus's weight. But Marcus broke it first.
"What were you doing with a blade?"
The question landed sharply and unusually.
Alexa's pulse quickly skipped. I can't tell him I was on the phone with the administrator. He'll sniff out the lie. He'll think I'm playing two sides.
She inhaled slowly. "I heard a creak outside of my door, and it didn't sound right, so I checked it out."
"With a slim blade," Marcus opposed. His tone wasn't loud, but it was heavy, like a judge's gavel.
Alexa's chin slanted. "If it had been an intruder, would you rather I went unarmed?"
His silence stayed, dragging the seconds. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, even as he looked forward.
Alexa shifted her approach. "That man downstairs… he said your heir has been marked." She glanced at him sideways, searching his reaction. "And he moved through the mansion like he'd been here before. Which means…"
She stopped short, as her mind strung the unspoken words together. Marcus's face didn't shift, but she saw his jaw tighten, ever so slightly. That was all the answer she needed.
By then, they were standing outside Aaron's door. Marcus pushed it open with careful quiet.
The boy lay sprawled under his covers, as his little chest rose and fell with the uneven rhythm of light sleep. Marcus crossed the room, his usual sharpness softening almost imperceptibly as he sat on the edge of the bed. His hand—so capable of cruelty—was now brushing back Aaron's hair with a gentleness that Alexa had never thought possible from him.
She stayed in the corner, as she was half-shadowed, and her arms were folded. But her eyes betrayed her as they lingered. Something about that sight pressed against her chest unexpectedly. Don't forget yourself, Alexa. This is still a mission. Don't let the softness of a father undo you.
Aaron stirred, his eyes cracking open. "Papa… you came back, like you promised." His little voice was sleepy but warm.
Marcus's expression didn't shift, but Alexa saw it: the faintest break in his armor, almost a smile.
Then Aaron whispered, his eyes still half-closed. "Papa… Alexa doesn't listen. She treats me like a baby… doesn't leave me alone."
Marcus's eyes brushed to Alexa. She was staring at the ceiling, deliberately unreadable. But she'd heard every word.
Something unreadable crossed his face—an expression softer than he ever allowed anyone to see. For a heartbeat, it almost looked like admiration. Maybe even something dangerously close to… fondness.
But just as quickly, his cold, icy mask slammed back into place.
He brushed Aaron's hair one last time until his boy drifted back into sleep. Then Marcus stood, adjusting his cuffs as if resetting himself back into the man of steel he was known to be.
As they stepped out of the room, his voice was low. "You did well tonight."
Alexa blinked at him. That was… praise? From him? She didn't reply, but the words stuck with her more than she wanted them to.
Marcus didn't wait for a response. He moved down the hall, his silhouette cutting back into cold authority. "Get some rest. I'll be in my study."
And with that, he was gone.
Alexa stood alone for a moment, Aaron asleep behind her, Marcus disappearing ahead. The mansion felt heavier than ever, the shadows thicker. But deep down, one thought clung to her—Marcus had seen her. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to measure her differently.