Chapter Two: The Little Prince
719 Words
The next morning, Ava stood in front of the mirror in the guest room they'd assigned her. The room was beautiful—too beautiful. Ornate gold-framed furniture, high ceilings, pale ivory walls. It felt more like a museum than a home. Cold, curated… hollow.
She adjusted the collar of her cream blouse and ran her fingers through her waves. No matter how much effort she put into her appearance, she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being watched. Judged. Every breath inside this mansion felt monitored.
A knock echoed sharply on the door.
She jumped.
“Breakfast is served in the sunroom,” the butler announced from the hallway, voice clipped and precise. “Mr. Valenti will not be joining. Matteo is waiting.”
Her heartbeat sped up.
Matteo. The child. The real reason she was here.
And maybe, just maybe, the one person who could tell her what really happened to Emily.
—
The sunroom wasn’t what she expected.
It was warmer than the rest of the house, touched by soft light that filtered through a glass ceiling. Ferns, ivy, and orchids climbed the walls like a secret garden. But the moment her eyes fell on the boy seated at the small round table in the center, everything else faded.
He sat still—too still for a five-year-old—his little hands folded perfectly in his lap. Dark curls fell into his eyes, his face porcelain pale. He didn’t look up when she entered.
Matteo Valenti.
Her heart ached just looking at him.
She approached slowly, deliberately.
“Good morning, Matteo,” she said gently, kneeling beside him. “I’m Ava.”
No response.
He didn’t blink. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
She offered a small smile. “I heard you like pancakes.”
Still nothing.
She took a slow breath. “I… I had a little sister once. Her name was Emily. She was very funny. She used to make me laugh when I didn’t want to.”
His eyes flicked toward her—just for a second. Then away.
A flicker of hope.
She continued softly. “And when I was scared at night, she used to hum to me. Just like this…”
She began to hum a lullaby—low, melodic, one Emily used to sing when they were kids. Matteo’s fingers twitched.
Then, very slowly, he reached for the spoon beside his plate.
Ava didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.
He took one bite of his pancakes.
Victory.
—
Later that afternoon, she wandered outside during Matteo’s nap. The estate grounds stretched forever—rolling gardens, stone pathways, and a small lake that shimmered beneath the cloudy sky.
The lake.
A chill ran down her spine.
That was where they found Emily’s body.
She moved closer to the edge, staring at the water. It was still. Too still. She closed her eyes, letting the wind sting her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t come out here alone.”
The voice behind her made her jump.
She turned quickly to find Nico standing there, hands in his coat pockets, watching her like a predator does its prey. She hadn't even heard him approach.
“I didn’t realize it was off-limits,” she said, trying to sound casual.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not. But I find most people end up regretting time spent near that lake.”
She turned fully toward him. “Is that what happened to Emily?”
Nico’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t flinch. “That’s none of your concern.”
“She was my sister.”
“And she worked for me. Nothing more.”
Liar.
“She didn’t deserve to die,” Ava said quietly.
“No one does,” he said, voice colder than the wind. “But death doesn’t ask for fairness.”
She stared at him, her chest aching with unspoken rage and fear. “Did you even go to her funeral?”
His silence was her answer.
“I want the truth,” she whispered.
Nico stepped closer, eyes burning into hers.
“Then I suggest you stay alive long enough to hear it.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her trembling beside the lake.
But one thing was certain now—Emily’s death wasn’t an accident.
And Nico Valenti knew more than he was saying.
---
- Writer
