Chapter 4 - The Debt of a Don
The following morning, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Master Suite.
I was sitting on the thick oriental rug, playing with a brand-new wooden dollhouse that had been delivered an hour earlier, when the heavy oak doors opened.
Don Alejandro stepped into the room. He was dressed in a pristine charcoal three-piece suit, his grey-dusted hair combed back smoothly. He carried a small velvet box in his hand.
Mama immediately stood up from the armchair, bowing her head slightly. "Good morning, Don Alejandro."
"Please, Clara, sit," Alejandro said, walking into the room with a warm smile. "No bowing in this house. Not anymore."
He walked over to where I was sitting, dropping down to sit cross-legged on the floor right beside me, completely unbothered by the fact that his thousand-dollar trousers were resting on the rug.
"How are the dolls, Emma?" he asked softly.
"They're good," I said, holding up a small wooden figure with painted yellow hair. "This one is the princess. She lives in the big house."
Alejandro smiled gently. "And where do you live, Emma?"
"With Mama," I answered simply, looking up at him. "In the room under the stairs."
Alejandro’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a deep, pained sincerity. He set the velvet box down on the rug between us and opened it.
Inside sat a beautiful, tiny gold bracelet. Engraved on the shimmering plate were the words: Emma Moretti – Protected by the Crown.
Mama gasped from the armchair. "Don Alejandro... we cannot accept that! That name..."
"It is not just a name, Clara," Alejandro said, turning his head to look at my mother with absolute seriousness. "Last night, your four-year-old daughter showed more bravery, honor, and loyalty than men I have known for thirty years. She used her only lifeline to keep a dying stranger breathing."
He looked back down at me, gently picking up my small wrist and fastening the gold bracelet around it.
"From this moment on," Alejandro declared, "Emma is officially adopted into the protection of the Moretti bloodline. In the eyes of the underworld, she is my goddaughter. Anyone who looks at her with malice will answer to every gun in Chicago."
I looked at the shiny gold bracelet, my thumb tracing the smooth letters. "Does this mean I get more EpiPens?"
Alejandro let out a soft laugh, his eyes warming. "Emma, my sweet child, you will have a hundred EpiPens. You will have a private doctor who follows you to school. You will have a driver, a playground built in the backyard, and the finest education money can buy."
Just then, Marco stepped quietly into the doorway, his expression tense.
"Boss," Marco said low. "Senator Harrison is downstairs. He came under the guise of an 'emergency wellness check' after hearing rumors of gunfire near the estate last night. He brought four federal agents with him."
Alejandro’s posture instantly shifted. The warm, fatherly man disappeared, replaced once more by the icy, ruthless monarch of the city.
He stood up smoothly, adjusting his suit jacket.
"Keep Clara and Emma in this room," Alejandro instructed Marco. "Make sure two guards stay at the door."
He looked down at me one last time, kneeling slightly. "Stay here with your mama, Emma. I have to go handle some very bad men."
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"Will you come back for lunch?" I asked, looking up from my dollhouse. "Mama said we're having strawberry shortcake."
Alejandro’s cold face melted into a genuine, beautiful smile. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, my brave little girl."
