Chapter 3 - Lines Drawn in Blood
Dominic scrambled to his feet, dusting snow off his leather coat, his face flushed red with humiliation and fury.
"He attacked me!" Dominic spat, pointing a trembling finger at Bruno. "That dynamic-broken beast lunged at me! And that maid’s brat yelled at me!"
Alessandro didn't even look at his brother. He looked at Sophia, who was trembling on her knees, wrapping her coat tightly around Emma, who was softly crying into her mother's neck.
"Sophia," Alessandro said gently. "Take Emma inside. Go to my private study on the third floor. Marco will accompany you."
Sophia didn't hesitate. She scrambled up, lifting Emma into her arms. Bruno immediately turned, stepping beside her, maintaining a protective stance as Marco escorted them toward the main mansion entrance.
Once the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them, Alessandro turned back to his brother.
The gentle tone he had used with Sophia vanished instantly. What remained was the undisputed capo of the Chicago syndicate.
"Listen to me very carefully, Dominic," Alessandro said, stepping closer until his face was inches from his brother's. "You came here for the commission meeting. You will stay in the west wing. You will not address my staff. You will not walk near the gardens. And if you so much as look at that woman or her child again, I will strip you of your territory in New York and send you to a pine box."
Dominic’s jaw twitched. "You’re threatening your own blood over a housemaid and a crippled dog?!"
"I’m warning my blood," Alessandro corrected coldly. "There is a difference. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience."
Dominic glared at his older brother with pure, burning hatred. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched toward the west wing, his two henchmen following hurriedly behind him.
Upstairs in the third-floor study, the atmosphere was vastly different.
The study was a massive, warm room lined with thousands of leather-bound books, a grand stone fireplace, and heavy mahogany furniture. It smelled of tobacco, aged scotch, and old paper.
Sophia sat on a velvet sofa, holding Emma on her lap. Emma had stopped crying and was currently sitting on the floor, using a clean handkerchief to wipe snow off Bruno’s paws.
"He was mean," Emma muttered, stroking Bruno’s velvet ear. "The man with the dirty coat was mean."
"He was, sweetie," Sophia whispered, her hands still shaking as she brushed Emma’s hair away from her face. "But Mr. Moretti helped us."
The heavy double doors opened, and Alessandro walked into the room. He holstered his gun, setting his dark coat over a chair.
Sophia immediately stood up. "Mr. Moretti... I am so sorry. Emma shouldn't have talked back to your brother. I will take her to our room. We won't come out until—"
"Sit down, Sophia," Alessandro interrupted softly.
It was the first time he had ever used her first name.
Sophia paused, staring at him. Slowly, she sat back down on the sofa.
Alessandro walked over to a small side table, poured a glass of warm amber liquid, and handed it to her. "Drink it. It will help with the shock."
"I don't drink, sir," she murmured.
"It's brandy and honey," he said gently. "Drink it."
Sophia took a small sip. The warmth bloomed in her throat, steadying her frantic pulse.
Alessandro stood near the fireplace, staring into the roaring flames, his hands resting in his pockets.
"My brother is a dangerous man, Sophia," Alessandro said quietly. "He believes that strength is demonstrated through cruelty. He has never understood that true power comes from protection."
He turned to look at her.
"You stood in front of that child today," Alessandro noted, his hazel eyes searching her face. "You knew who Dominic was. You knew my men had guns. And you put your body between him and your daughter."
"She’s my child, Mr. Moretti," Sophia said, her voice dropping into an unwavering, fierce tone. "I would burn the entire world down before I let anyone hurt her."
Alessandro looked at her for a long moment. Something shifted in his cold, guarded heart—a crack in the armor he had worn for twenty years.
"I know the feeling," Alessandro murmured, his gaze falling to Emma, who was currently trying to teach Bruno how to shake hands. "My father died when I was eighteen. I spent twenty years building this empire to protect what was left of my family. But over time, I surrounded myself with men who only care about blood and money."
He walked over, dropping to one knee beside Emma and Bruno. He reached out his hand.
Bruno didn't growl. The massive dog simply rested his chin on Alessandro’s knee.
May you like
"You brought life back into this dead house, Sophia," Alessandro said softly, looking up into her brown eyes. "Both of you. And as long as I am breathing, no one under this roof will ever harm either of you again."
Sophia looked at the powerful, feared man kneeling on her floor, touching the head of a dog everyone else thought was a beast, and for the first time in two years, she felt truly safe.
