Chapter 2 - The Suite on the Third Floor
The master suite of Villa Moretti was a fortress wrapped in velvet.
Located on the highest floor of the mansion, it featured double-thick bulletproof windows overlooking the sprawling, mist-covered hills of the estate, hand-carved mahogany furniture, and a private security corridor patrolled around the clock by Alessandro’s most loyal guards.
By midnight, the staff quarters downstairs were buzzing with quiet, terrified rumors. The housekeepers who had ignored me for two years—the ones who had watched Vivian humiliate me without raising a finger—now bowed their heads as Marco personally carried my two small canvas suitcases up the grand staircase.
Emma was fast asleep on the massive plush sofa in the center of the private sitting room, wrapped in a soft cashmere blanket Marco had brought from the linen vault.
I stood by the window, staring down at the front courtyard. Down below, black SUVs were pulling out of the iron gates in continuous streams, taking the leaders of the twelve crime families back to their respective strongholds under heavy armed escort.
The door behind me clicked open.
I turned around quickly.
Alessandro walked into the room. He had removed his suit jacket and tie, rolling the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt up to his forearms, exposing thick, dark ink stretching up his wrists. He carried a silver tray with a pot of chamomile tea, two porcelain cups, and a plate of warm butter biscuits.
"She’s asleep?" Alessandro asked quietly, pointing his chin toward Emma.
"She collapsed the moment her head hit the pillow," I answered, my voice trembling slightly. "She’s had a long day."
Alessandro set the tray on the glass coffee table, then walked toward the sofa. He stood over my daughter for a moment, his hard face softening in the dim lamp light.
"She has remarkable eyes," Alessandro murmured. "She looks like her mother."
"She has her father’s heart," I whispered, stepping closer. "Too brave for her own good."
Alessandro turned his gaze to me. His eyes were intensely dark, sweeping over my pale face, stopping at my left cheek. The skin was still red and swollen where Vivian’s diamond ring had caught my skin.
Before I could pull away, Alessandro raised his hand. His fingers were warm, calloused, and surprisingly tender as he gently brushed his thumb across my injured cheekbone.
I held my breath. The touch was so gentle it sent a sharp shiver down my spine.
"Does it hurt?" he asked softly.
"A little," I admitted. "I'm used to pain, Mr. Moretti."
"Alessandro," he corrected softly. "Inside this room, my name is Alessandro."
He dropped his hand and gestured to the armchairs by the fire. "Sit down, Clara. Please."
I sat across from him, pouring tea with shaking hands. The hot steam carried the scent of wild honey and mint into the cool room.
"You must have a thousand questions," Alessandro said, taking a sip from his cup.
"I only have one," I replied, looking directly into his cold blue eyes. "Why are we up here? You cleared my name. You know I’m not a traitor. Why aren't we back in the staff quarter where we belong?"
Alessandro set his cup down with a soft clink.
"Because the man who gave Emma that rabbit—the man who engineered Matteo Romano’s betrayal—is named Lorenzo 'The Serpent' Rossi," Alessandro said, his tone dropping into a lethal register. "He was my father’s right hand before he tried to burn this empire down five years ago. He is ruthless, intelligent, and he does not leave loose ends."
Alessandro leaned forward, his dark eyebrows pulling together.
"Lorenzo knows your daughter carries his secret mark, Clara," Alessandro warned softly. "He knows she saw his face near the garden gate. The moment my men hit Matteo in the foyer, you and Emma became the two most dangerous witnesses in Lombardy."
My blood went cold. My hands gripped the porcelain saucer so tightly the bone showed white through my skin. "He... he wants to kill my baby?"
"He will try," Alessandro said plainly. "Which is why you will never leave my side again. As long as you are in this house, under my roof, behind my guns... no one touches a hair on her head. I give you my word as a Moretti."
I looked at this man—a king of violence, a ruler of shadows, a man whose very name made hardened criminals weep—and for the first time in two years, I felt completely safe.
"Why do you care so much?" I asked softly. "I am just a widow, Alessandro. A maid you hired out of charity when my husband died on your construction site."
Alessandro looked away toward the dark window, his strong jaw tightening.
"Your husband, David, saved three of my men when that steel girder collapsed at the port two years ago," Alessandro said quietly. "He died pulled a guard out of the rubble. I swore on his grave that day that I would look after his family."
He looked back at me, his eyes burning with an intense, raw sincerity.
"I failed to protect you from Vivian's cruelty," Alessandro murmured, his voice filled with regret. "I will not fail you again."
Before I could answer, the door opened abruptly.
Marco stepped into the room, his face pale, his phone clutched in his hand.
"Boss," Marco said, his voice urgent. "We have a massive problem."
"Speak," Alessandro ordered.
"Matteo Romano just died in the holding cellar," Marco reported softly. "Poison. Someone slipped cyanide into his water three minutes ago."
Alessandro stood up like a lightning strike. "The cellar was locked! Who was on guard duty?!"
"SalMoretti," Marco swallowed hard. "He’s gone, Boss. He cleared the rear gate five minutes ago in a civilian vehicle."
Alessandro’s face turned into a terrifying mask of thunder.
May you like
"A second traitor," I whispered, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Alessandro turned to Marco, his command absolute. "Shut down the city. Call the Capos. Tell them the war has begun."
