Chapter 8 Eight
A soft knock came again.
This time, it wasn’t Antonio.
Mira turned slowly.
“Enter.”
The door opened and a maid stepped in, head slightly lowered.
“Miss Voss,” she said carefully, “Mr. Corvin requests your presence.”
Mira’s stomach tightened—but her face didn’t show it.
Already? Her ten hours weren’t over yet and she still had a lot of time.
She glanced at the laptop, then at the file on the desk.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
The maid left quickly.
Mira stayed still for a second, forcing her thoughts into place.
He’s testing you.
That was obvious now.
Ten hours wasn’t just a deadline.
It was pressure.
To control her.
She closed the laptop slowly, slid the file under her arm, and straightened her clothes.
Then she walked out.
Antonio was waiting again at the end of the hall.
He said nothing.
Just turned and led the way.
They didn’t go back to the office this time
Instead, they went deeper into the mansion. Farther than before.
Past hallways she hadn’t seen. Past doors that looked heavier, more sealed, more private.
Mira’s grip on the file tightened slightly.
“Where are we going?” she asked finally.
“You don’t need to know just follow,” Antonio replied simply.
That alone made her chest tighten.
They stopped in front of a large door.
Different from the others.
Thicker. Older.
Like it had never been opened for anyone who wasn’t allowed to disappear inside it.
Antonio knocked once.
“Enter.”
The voice again.
Cold. Flat.
Filling the hall in the way that made the air feel wrong.
Antonio opened the door.
Mira stepped in.
The room was darker than the others.
Less light.
A long table sat in the center, but Salvatore wasn’t at it.
He was standing near the far end, sleeves slightly rolled, as if he had been waiting without any patience for the world to catch up to him.
His eyes lifted the moment she entered.
And stayed there.
“Done already?” he asked.
Mira didn’t answer immediately.
Her eyes slowly travelled around the room. Wondering what room it was and why it was so dark.
“I’m working on it,” she said carefully.
Then a pause.
Then he moved from where he stood and slowly stepped toward her.
Easy step, measured and deliberate
Like he was closing the distance the way someone closes a trap.
“Working,” he repeated.
He stopped in front of her.
Close enough that she could feel it again—that pressure, that uncomfortable silence that sucks the air from the room.
“I gave you ten hours,” he said quietly. “Not excuses.”
Mira held his gaze.
“I understand the deadline. But it’s not up yet. I still have time.”
A beat.
His eyes didn’t soften. His unreadable gaze just held hers.. Like he was reading her more closely now.
“Fine,” he said.
Then his attention shifted.
From Mira’s face to the file in her hand.”
“Tell me how you plan on shutting that family up,” Salvatore said.” They’ve been causing me a lot of headaches.”
Mira hesitated for half a second.
Then her expression changed…. Irritated then she quickly masked it off.
Mira took a deep breath then she spoke.
“I’m going to call them,” she said calmly.
A pause.
“And I’m going to give them two options.”
Salvatore’s eyes stayed locked on her.
Mira continued, voice steady and forcing herself to sound cold like he likes. No emotion.
“Option one… money. A compensation offer that’s big enough to make them stop talking and start thinking about survival instead of revenge.”
She lifted her chin slightly.
“Option two… pressure. Quietly remind them that dragging your name further doesn’t just put them against you… But it’s a useless thing to and they should refrain from it to avoid being sued for defamation.”
Silence filled the room.
She stared at him looking for an expression in his eyes.. but she found nothing.
Mira reached into the file and pulled out another smaller document she had separated earlier.
“And if that’s not enough,” she added, placing it on the table, “I use this.”
Salvatore’s gaze dropped to it.
Then back to her.
“What is it?” he asked.
Mira didn’t blink.
“Dirt,” she said simply.
She tapped the file once.
“Elara’s father.”
A beat of silence passed.
“He has a gambling habit. Serious one. Hidden debts. Loan sharks. Records he’s been trying to erase for years.”
Her voice stayed flat.
“If he keeps pushing this publicly, those details don’t stay hidden anymore. They get exposed.”
A beat of silence passed again.
Then she leaned back slightly.
“People don’t fight murder trials the same way when their own house is burning down. I would make the media label him as a bad father wanting to use his daughter to clear his debt which led to her death.”
The room went still.
Salvatore didn’t react immediately.
Didn’t say a word … he just watched her as she spoke
“Hmm,” he said quietly.” Brutal.”
Mira held his gaze.
“I prefer to use the word effective,” she replied.
A long pause followed.
Mira watched him waiting for a reaction.. a raised brow or body language. After a minute that felt like eternity, something subtle shifted in his eyes.
Approval? Was he pleased? She couldn’t tell.
Then he spoke again breaking the silence
“Do it,” he said finally.
No hesitation. No concern.
“And don’t fail me,” he added, turning slightly away again. “If it were up to me, I’d rather turn him into a deadbeat father… a selfish one… and let the media tear him apart. But I’m in the mood to be generous.”
Mira froze.
For a second, she wasn’t even sure she heard him right.
Her grip on the file tightened.
How could he say that so easily?
Like ruining a man’s life was just… another option on a list.
Her stomach turned, but she didn’t let it show.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
Salvatore didn’t look at her.
His attention had shifted to the photo she had placed on the table—Elara’s father.
And he was smirking.
Not amused.
Not pleased.
But… entertained.
“If that would be all, you may leave now,” he said calmly.
Just like that the conversation was over.
Mira stood there for half a second longer.
Then—
“Understood, sir,” she said, her voice controlled.
She turned and walked toward the door.