Luca’s head slumped forward before he could say another word.
“Luca!” Carmen gasped, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him lightly. But he didn’t respond. Marco cursed under his breath, pulling out his phone.
“Get the doctor here. Now.”
The guards rushed into action, calling their private physician while Marco and Carmen lowered Luca onto the couch. His face was pale, covered in bruises, his breathing shallow.
Carmen’s chest tightened with worry. Whatever had happened to him—it had been bad.
Carmen woke up before the sun rose, her mind still racing. She had barely slept.
The events of the night before kept replaying in her head—Luca, barely alive on their doorstep.
Marco sat at the dining table, a cup of black coffee in front of him, scrolling through his phone.
Carmen stormed in, her chest tight with determination. “I’m firing Ella,” she said firmly.
Marco didn’t even look up. “Do whatever you want.”
Carmen froze. She had expected a fight. Had expected him to argue, to say she was being paranoid again. But instead—nothing.
“That’s it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
Marco sighed, setting his phone down, rubbing his temples.
“Carmen, I don’t have time for this anymore,” he muttered. “If you want her gone, then fire her. I don’t care.”
Carmen felt something inside her snap. “You don’t care?” she repeated. Marco finally looked up, his eyes dark with exhaustion.
“Carmen, I have bigger problems,” he said, his voice flat. “I need to find out who did that to Luca.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted. “She’s not just a nanny, Marco,” she hissed. “She’s dangerous. Luca nearly died last night—”
“And did he say Ella did it?” Marco cut her off, his voice sharp. “She’s a damn old woman who’s probably losing her memory.”
Marco exhaled, shaking his head.
“You want her gone? Fine. Fire her. But don’t expect me to deal with it.”
Carmen’s fingers curled into fists. He still didn’t see it. But that didn’t matter anymore. Because today?
Ella was leaving this house.
Carmen left the dining room, her heart pounding, already planning how she was going to do it.
She would call Ella into the sitting room, tell her to pack her things, and get out. And she would make sure Matteo wasn’t there to witness it.
But as she turned the corner, she saw something that made her stop cold.
Ella.
Standing at the end of the hallway, completely still. Her face unreadable. Her hands clasped neatly in front of her.
But her eyes? Furious.
She had heard everything. For a split second, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.
Then—Ella smiled.
Not the warm, motherly smile she usually wore.
No.
This one was colder, sharper.
And then, without a word, she turned and walked away. Carmen’s stomach clenched. Ella was up to something.
Ella moved through the house calmly, as if nothing had changed. She wasn’t packing. She wasn’t arguing. She wasn’t begging to stay.
Instead—
She walked straight into Marco’s office.
It was empty. Perfect. She pulled open her bag, taking out a thick stack of files. She placed them deliberately in the center of his desk.
Then, carefully, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small note.
She placed it on top of the files, smoothing it down with her fingers. Then, stepping back, she admired her work.
It was time.