Chapter 4 - The Traitor at the Gate
A week passed in a blur of luxury and golden wire cages.
Elena tried her best to adapt to her new life, but sitting idle in a mansion while servants brought her food felt wrong. She spent her days reading to Mia in the library or taking short walks in the glass conservatory attached to the East Wing.
Aleandro was rarely around during the day. He was locked in strategic meetings with his capos, fortifying his territory, and preparing for an inevitable war with the Falcone syndicate. Yet, every evening at seven o’clock, without fail, he joined Elena and Mia for dinner in the small dining room.
He listened quietly as Mia babbled about her drawings, and he watched Elena with an intense, unspoken admiration as she patiently cared for her daughter. The cold, ruthless mob boss was slowly fading, replaced by a man who looked forward to coming home.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Elena said softly one evening after Mia had fallen asleep on the dining sofa, clutching her stuffed bear.
Aleandro lowered his wine glass. “Falcone called a meeting of the Five Families for tomorrow night at a neutral site in Manhattan. He wants to negotiate the shipping container rights in Newark.”
Elena felt her chest tighten. “Is it a trap?”
“Of course it’s a trap,” Aleandro said with a grim smile. “Victor Falcone doesn't negotiate. He sets fires and profits off the ashes. But I have to go. If I refuse the meeting, the other families will see it as weakness.”
He stood up and walked to the window, staring out into the dark, rainy night. “My father always said that the deadliest knife isn't the one in your enemy’s hand. It’s the one hidden behind your friend’s back.”
Before Elena could answer, the heavy double doors of the dining room burst open.
Dante, Aleandro’s right-hand man and security chief, stepped into the room. His suit jacket was torn, his knuckles bloody, and his face lit up with urgency.
“Boss, we have a breach,” Dante said rapidly. “The west gate security cameras were disabled three minutes ago from the inside. Someone cut the main comm lines.”
Aleandro’s eyes instantly turned to ice. He pulled a heavy silver semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster with practiced ease. “Where is the leak?”
“It was Marco,” Dante spat, referring to one of the senior guards who had served the estate for five years. “Falcone paid him two million. He opened the side access door near the gardens. A team of hitmen is already inside the perimeter!”
Elena gasped, rushing to pick up the sleeping Mia in her arms. “Aleandro!”
Aleandro moved with lightning speed. He stepped between Elena and the door, pushing her toward a hidden wooden panel set into the bookshelf wall—a panic room built during the prohibition era.
“Get inside,” Aleandro ordered, his voice steady and cold. “Don’t open this door for anyone except me or Dante. Do you hear me?”
“Don’t go out there!” Elena begged, holding Mia tight to her chest as the sound of distant gunfire echoed from the front courtyard. “They’ll kill you!”
Aleandro paused at the entrance of the hidden room. He turned, looking at Elena and the little girl sleeping peacefully against her neck. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear from Elena’s cheek.
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“They can try,” Aleandro murmured softly. “Keep her safe, Elena. I’ll come back for you.”
He hit the wall switch, and the heavy oak panel slid shut, locking them in total darkness.
