“What on earth is that child talking about?” Marcello demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. He turned from the bar, his expression twisting from annoyance to sharp confusion. “Caroline, why is that little girl staring at you like that?”
“She’s three, Marcello,” Caroline said quickly — too quickly. “Children say absurd things. You know how vivid their imaginations are.”
But Lily shook her head, her little brow furrowed with the stubborn certainty only a three-year-old can carry.
“It wasn’t an imagination,” Lily’s mother said quietly, stepping forward. Her voice was steady even as her hands trembled. “She didn’t make it up, Mr. Mercer. I saw something on the landing too, before we came down.”
Marcello’s eyes narrowed. “You saw what?”
“Something fell from beneath that pink dress,” she replied, holding her ground. “Right near the base of the VIP stairs.”
Caroline slammed her champagne glass down, wine spilling in a dark crimson stain across the white tablecloth. “This is insane! You are both conspiring to humiliate me — on our anniversary, Marcello! Tell this woman to leave.”
Chapter 2 — The Staircase
Marcello ignored his wife. Something cold had settled in his chest, and he took a slow, deliberate step toward the grand staircase, his polished shoes clicking against the marble.