Velvet cage

Chapter 1 Bianca Santoro had no business being inside the Palazzo De Luca after midnight. The wedding was over hours ago, but she’d stayed behind to help clean up, mostly because she needed the extra cash, but partly because she hadn’t wanted to go back to her shoebox apartment where the Wi-Fi barely worked and the walls whispered loneliness. The marble halls were silent now, emptied of champagne and laughter, but still humming with the kind of old money energy that clung to every gold-framed painting and velvet curtain. She was supposed to be grabbing the leftover floral arrangements from the back courtyard. She took a wrong turn instead. It was the voices that stopped her. Low. Male. Italian. Tense. She hesitated at the corner of the corridor, pressed her back against the cool stone wall. It was late, but not that late. Probably just the event staff, or some drunk groomsman arguing with his cousin about the bill. Except… that wasn’t what it sounded like. “You should’ve stayed loyal,” one voice said; calm, cold. Dangerous. Then a c***k. Not a slap. Not a crash. A gunshot. Bianca’s breath caught in her throat. Silence followed. Thick. Final. She inched closer to the slightly open door, every instinct screaming at her to turn around, to run, but her feet disobeyed. She peeked inside. And saw him. Tall. Black suit. Blood splattered across his cuff like it belonged there. A man at his feet ; eyes open, mouth slack. Dead. The killer didn’t move. Not at first. Then his head turned; slowly, precisely. Their eyes met. He didn’t look surprised. He looked… annoyed. And then he stepped toward her. Bianca gasped and turned to run, shoes slipping against the polished marble. She heard the door creak fully open, followed by rapid footsteps. Someone shouted. Not in English. A hand grabbed her wrist. She screamed. And then , darkness.