Chapter 2 - The Fortress on the Hill
The third-floor master suite of Villa Moretti felt less like a bedroom and more like a high-tech fortress. Bulletproof glass windows looked out over the glowing skyline of Milan, while heavy oak doors reinforced with steel deadbolts sealed us off from the chaos below.
I sat on the edge of a massive king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, holding Emma tight in my lap. My cheek still throbbed from Vivian’s slap, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the icy dread pooling in my stomach.
“Mommy?” Emma whispered, her eyes wide with exhaustion. “Are we in trouble?”
I kissed the top of her soft brown hair, smoothing down her curls. “No, sweetheart. We’re just staying here for a little while until the nice man finishes his work.”
“He has sad eyes,” Emma murmured, resting her head against my chest. “Like the doggies at the shelter who don't have a home.”
A quiet knock sounded at the door before it swung open. Alessandro stepped inside, carrying a tray with a pot of hot tea, two delicate china cups, and a small glass of warm milk with honey.
He set the tray down on the dark mahogany coffee table. He had removed his suit jacket, rolling up his crisp white shirt sleeves to reveal dark, intricate ink tracing up his forearms—symbols of the Moretti bloodline.
“She should drink the milk,” Alessandro said gently, nodding toward Emma. “It will help her sleep.”
Emma peeked out from behind my arm, eyeing the milk, then looking at the bedside table. “Where is Mr. Bunny?”
Alessandro reached into his vest pocket and produced the blue rabbit. The seam along its back had been meticulously sewn back together with dark blue thread, completely seamless and whole.
“Mr. Bunny was very brave today,” Alessandro said, crouching down so he was eye level with my daughter. He handed the toy back to her with surprising grace for a man whose hands had ended dozens of lives. “He helped me catch a very bad person.”
Emma took the rabbit, clutching it to her chest. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
“Call me Alessandro, little one,” he replied softly.
He stood up and looked at me. His dark eyes scanned my left cheek, which was swollen and red. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small ice pack wrapped in a silk handkerchief, and extended it to me.
“Hold this against your face,” he ordered softly.
I took the ice pack, our fingers brushing briefly. A subtle current of heat shot up my arm, making my heart skip a beat. “Thank you. For... standing up for us down there.”
“You are my employee, Clara,” Alessandro said, sitting in the armchair opposite the bed. “And inside Villa Moretti, my people are untouchable. Vivian crossed a line that can never be uncrossed.”
“Is she... is she the traitor?” I asked, holding the ice pack to my burning skin.
Alessandro leaned back, crossing his long legs. “Vivian was the doorway, not the mastermind. Her family was drowning in debt after her father’s death. The Corvo remnant promised to wipe her family’s ledger clean if she delivered access to my inner sanctum. They used you and your daughter as the delivery vehicle because you were invisible to my security sweeps.”
My stomach churned. “I was just trying to do my job. I didn't know—”
“I know you didn't,” Alessandro interrupted smoothly. “If I suspected for a single second that you were involved, you wouldn't be sitting in my room drinking tea, Clara. You’d be under six feet of concrete.”
The cold honesty in his statement sent a shiver down my spine, but strangely, I felt safer in this room than I had in the two years since my husband died in a construction site accident.
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“What happens now?” I asked quietly.
Alessandro looked out the window at the distant lights of Milan. “Now, war begins. The Corvo thought they could strike at me through my household. They thought I was distracted by political marriages and syndicate treaties.” He turned his gaze back to me, his dark eyes burning with lethal promise. “They are about to learn why my family has ruled this city for three generations.”
