Chapter Three: The Lullaby

The Sicilian lullaby flowed from memory.

Her grandmother’s voice echoing in her mind as she formed the unfamiliar words.

She didn’t understand their meaning.

Only their melody.

Mr. Russo’s expression changed as she sang.

Something flickered behind those impenetrable eyes.

For a moment, he looked almost human.

When she finished, the silence felt heavy between them.

“Where did you learn that?” he asked finally. His voice strangely rough.

“My grandmother. She came from Sicily as a girl.”

“What was her name?”

The question seemed innocent.

But nothing about this man was innocent.

“Rosalia Marino.”

Something dangerous flashed across his face.

“From which part of Sicily?”

“Palermo. I think. Why?”

He straightened.

Adjusting his cufflinks. Gold emblazoned with what looked like a family crest.

“You may go, Lucia. Return tomorrow as usual.”

She slipped past him. Careful not to brush against his suit.

Feeling his eyes tracking her movement until she disappeared from view.

That night, her tiny apartment felt even smaller than usual.

The walls pressing in as she replayed the strange encounter.

She should quit.

Every instinct screamed it.

But quitting meant no rent money. No medication for her younger brother’s chronic illness. No chance of saving for his college fund.

Her phone rang at 11:47 p.m.

An unknown number lighting up the screen.

“Hello,” she answered cautiously.

“Miss Marino.”

Not a question.

The voice belonged to Marco. Mr. Russo’s security chief.

“Your services are required tomorrow evening. A private event. Mr. Russo specifically requested you.”

Her stomach dropped.

“I don’t do events. I’m just the regular house cleaner.”

“This is not a request.”

Marco’s tone was flat.

“A car will collect you at seven. Wear something appropriate.”

The line went dead before she could argue.

She called her regular agency supervisor immediately.

Hands shaking.

“Lucia, honey, this is actually good news,” the woman said, sounding relieved. “Mr. Russo has gone through five housekeepers this year. If he’s requesting you specifically, it means you’re doing something right.”

“But I don’t do events.”

“You do now. Whatever Mr. Russo wants, we accommodate.”

Her tone softened slightly.

“Look, these private events pay three times your normal rate. One night could cover your brother’s medicine for months.”

After they hung up, she sat on her bed.

Staring at the wall.

Three times her normal rate.

Medicine for months.

She couldn’t say no.

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