Chapter 4 - THE MAN OUTSIDE ROOM 714
Alessandro reached St. Catherine in eleven minutes.
The seventh floor was locked down.
Two Moretti guards stood outside Sophia’s room.
Emma was crying.
Sophia held her tightly.
Alessandro entered.
“What happened?”
Sophia pointed toward the hallway.
“A man came in.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he needed to check my IV.”
“Did he touch anything?”
“No.”
Emma interrupted.
“He wasn’t a doctor.”
Everyone looked at her.
Alessandro crouched.
“How did you know?”
Emma wiped her eyes.
“His shoes.”
Sophia frowned.
“What about them?”
Emma looked at Alessandro.
“Doctors here wear quiet shoes.”
“He had shiny shoes.”
Marco looked toward Alessandro.
Security footage confirmed it.
The man wore a medical coat.
But beneath it were polished Italian dress shoes.
The cameras lost him near the parking garage.
Alessandro doubled security.
Sophia became furious.
“I want Emma out of this.”
“So do I.”
“This happened because you opened that letter.”
“No.”
Alessandro’s voice hardened.
“This started twenty years ago.”
Sophia stared at him.
“And my family paid for it.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised her.
Alessandro didn’t defend himself.
He didn’t defend the Moretti name.
He simply said,
“Yes.”
Sophia looked away.
That afternoon, Alessandro moved Sophia and Emma to a private medical wing controlled by a Moretti-owned foundation.
Only four people knew the location.
Alessandro.
Marco.
The attending physician.
And Rosa.
Then Rosa disappeared.
Her phone was found inside the mansion kitchen.
Her coat remained hanging near the servants’ entrance.
But Rosa was gone.
Marco checked the cameras.
At 11:42 a.m., Rosa entered the pantry.
She never came out.
They searched.
Behind a shelving unit was an old servants’ passage.
Alessandro had forgotten it existed.
At the far end, they found Rosa’s shoe.
And blood.
Marco looked at Alessandro.
“She didn’t leave voluntarily.”
Then Alessandro’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You should have left your father buried.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“You have something we need.”
“What?”
“The Delgado letter.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“And you have Rosa.”
A pause.
Then Rosa’s voice came through.
“Alessandro, don’t—”
The line cut.
Alessandro’s face became stone.
The distorted voice returned.
“Midnight.”
“Pier 19.”
“Bring the letter.”
“Come alone.”
The call ended.
Marco shook his head.
“You’re not going alone.”
Alessandro folded Vittorio’s letter and placed it inside his coat.
“Yes.”
Marco stepped closer.
“That’s exactly what they want.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“They took the woman who raised me.”
“And they’ll take you too.”
“Then make sure they regret it.”
At 11:58 p.m., Alessandro walked alone into Pier 19.
Fog rolled across the Hudson.
A warehouse door stood open.
Inside, one chair sat beneath a light.
Rosa was tied to it.
Alessandro approached.
“Rosa.”
She lifted her head.
“Run.”
The lights exploded on.
Men emerged from the shadows.
Alessandro counted six.
Then a seventh man stepped forward.
Carlo Moretti.
His uncle smiled.
“You look exactly like your father when you’re angry.”
Alessandro’s hand tightened.
“You killed him.”
Carlo smiled.
“No.”
Then he looked toward Rosa.
“She did.”
Alessandro turned.
May you like
Rosa began crying.
And for the second time in twenty-four hours, the world Alessandro understood collapsed beneath his feet.
