Chapter 7 - THE MAN IN THE DARK
“Elena!”
She ran toward Sofia’s voice.
Someone grabbed her from behind.
A hand covered her mouth.
Elena bit down hard.
The man cursed.
She drove her elbow backward.
His grip loosened.
Then a body slammed into him.
Furniture crashed.
A gunshot flashed in the dark.
“Elena, get down!”
Aleandro.
She dropped.
Another shot.
A grunt.
Then silence.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Aleandro stood over a masked man on the floor.
Blood spread beneath him.
Sofia was crying near the doorway.
Elena grabbed her.
“You okay?”
“He grabbed Bunny!”
Her stuffed rabbit lay across the room.
Aleandro picked it up.
One ear was torn.
Sofia stared at it.
“He hurt him.”
Aleandro looked at the dead attacker.
“Yes.”
Sofia pointed.
“Make him say sorry.”
Elena squeezed her eyes shut.
Aleandro crouched.
“He can’t.”
“Why?”
Elena opened her mouth.
Aleandro answered first.
“Because he made a choice he can’t take back.”
Sofia considered this.
Then hugged her rabbit.
“You fix Bunny.”
Aleandro nodded solemnly.
“I’ll fix Bunny.”
Marco rushed in.
“How did he get inside?”
Aleandro pulled off the attacker’s mask.
Lucia entered behind him.
She gasped.
The dead man wore Moretti security colors.
Marco cursed.
“He’s one of ours.”
Aleandro’s face became stone.
“Name?”
“Daniel Ferris. Night team.”
Aleandro looked toward Lucia.
She immediately snapped, “Don’t.”
“Your office controls security scheduling.”
“So does Marco’s.”
Marco stepped forward.
“You accusing me?”
“I’m stating a fact.”
Aleandro raised his hand.
“Enough.”
Elena stood.
“No.”
Everybody looked at her.
She held Sofia tighter.
“You people keep saying ‘enough’ while men shoot at my daughter.”
Aleandro’s eyes softened slightly.
“Elena—”
“No. I want answers. Now.”
She pulled Isabella’s documents from her bag and threw them onto the kitchen table.
“Maybe the answer is in there.”
Lucia stared.
“You carried them back here?”
“Yes.”
“That was reckless.”
“People keep calling me reckless while apparently every professional criminal in New York keeps failing to kill a housekeeper.”
Marco almost smiled.
Aleandro didn’t.
He spread the documents out.
Most were old financial records.
Numbers.
Names.
Payments.
But one sheet was different.
A handwritten page.
Isabella’s writing.
Lucia leaned in.
“Oh my God.”
Aleandro looked at her.
“What?”
Lucia pointed to three initials.
V.M.
C.V.
R.M.
“Vittorio Moretti,” Aleandro said.
“Carlo Vescari,” Marco added.
Elena frowned.
“Who’s R.M.?”
Nobody answered.
Elena looked around.
“What?”
Aleandro’s face had gone pale.
“Raffaele Moretti.”
“Who is that?”
Lucia whispered, “Our older brother.”
Elena stared.
“You have another brother?”
Aleandro’s jaw tightened.
“Had.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died twenty-one years ago.”
Lucia shook her head slowly.
“No.”
Aleandro looked at her.
“What?”
She pointed to the ledger.
“This payment is dated eighteen years ago.”
The room went silent.
Elena understood first.
“Dead men don’t collect money.”
Aleandro stared at the page.
Then Marco’s phone vibrated.
A text.
Unknown number.
May you like
He read it aloud.
ASK ALEANDRO WHO REALLY DIED IN RAFFAELE’S CAR.
