Luca held the transmitter between his thumb and forefinger as water dripped from its black casing onto the marble floor.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Dante stared at the blinking red light.
Emma watched the certainty disappear from his face—not fear exactly, but the sudden recognition that his home had never belonged entirely to him.
“Shut down the elevators,” he ordered.
Luca reached for his phone.
“No,” Emma said.
Dante turned toward her.
“You will not lock me inside this building.”
“There may be other devices.”
“Then search for them.
But no one moves me again.
No one touches my belongings.
And no one uses my mother to make me obey.”
Vivian’s gaze shifted between them.
Luca remained motionless, waiting for Dante’s response.
The feared man who could silence a room with one look said nothing for so long that Emma heard water dripping from the orchid pot.
Finally, he told Luca, “Search the residence.
Common areas first.
No one enters her suite without her permission.”
Emma did not thank him.
She took her phone from her tote and called her mother.
The moment she heard her mother’s tired voice, Emma’s anger nearly broke apart.
“The hospital says the entire balance is gone,” her mother said.
“They’re arranging a private room.
Emma, where did that money come from?”
Emma looked through the office doorway at Dante.
He had turned away, but she knew he was listening.
“My employer paid it,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because he thinks money gives him the right to decide things for me.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “Someone can save your life and still owe you an apology.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“I’m coming to see you.”
“Come because you want to.
Not because someone ordered you.”
When the call ended, Vivian quietly handed Emma the black dress bag.
“Your clothes are inside,” she said.
“I did not ask anyone to pack them.”
“No,” Vivian replied.
“You did not.”
There was something in the older woman’s voice—not defiance, but acknowledgment.
She had obeyed Dante’s order, and now she understood what that obedience had cost.
Luca’s team searched the penthouse for three hours.
They found no second transmitter, but the one inside the orchid was enough.
Its battery was nearly nine months old.
Emma had worked in the penthouse for less than four weeks.
The adhesive beneath the device carried a gray layer of dust that matched the untouched lining inside the pot.
It had been planted long before Emma entered the residence.
Luca placed the findings on the surveillance desk.
“She didn’t put it there,” he said.
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“I can see that.”
“No,” Emma said from the doorway.
“You can see it now.”
