Chapter 2 - The Silent House
The interior of the Moretti mansion was a masterpiece of old-world architecture and modern security. The floors were polished herringbone oak, the walls lined with portraits of ancestors who had died by the sword, and the air carried the faint, expensive scent of jasmine and beeswax. It was a house built to keep the world out, but as I walked through the grand foyer, I realized it had successfully kept a monster in.
I walked up the sweeping staircase toward the master suite. My boots made no sound on the heavy Persian runners.
When I pushed the double doors open, Victoria was sitting at her vanity, brushing her long, chestnut hair. She wore a silk robe the color of crushed pearls. In the mirror, her eyes met mine, and she smiled—a soft, practiced expression that had once brought me peace after long days of dealing with betrayal and death.
"Alessandro," she said, rising from her chair. She moved with an effortless grace, her hands coming up to rest on my damp lapels. "You're home early. I thought your flight from Palermo was delayed."
"We made good time," I said, my voice flat, my hands remaining at my sides. I didn't hug her. I didn't kiss her forehead.
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of trouble. "You look tired, darling. Let me tell Mia to make you some of that strong espresso you like."
"Mia isn't here, Victoria," I said, watching her face with the intensity of a predator waiting for a twitch.
Her hand stilled on my chest. Her fingers, manicured and pale, tightened slightly against the damp wool. "Oh? Right. I forgot. Her mother fell ill in New Jersey. She had to leave in quite a rush three days ago. I told her we would watch over Harper until she returned."
"New Jersey," I repeated, letting the words hang in the air like a noose. "Mia’s mother has been dead for five years, Victoria. I paid for the funeral myself."
The color drained from Victoria's cheeks so fast it was as if she had been struck. She tried to maintain her composure, her laughter sounding forced and brittle in the quiet bedroom. "Oh... I must have misunderstood her. She was so frantic, crying and packing a bag. You know how those things are."
"I do," I said. "I know exactly how those things are."
Before she could speak again, the door to the suite opened, and Victor Romano walked in.
Victor was my underboss, but more than that, he was the man who had pulled me out of a burning car when I was twenty-four. We had sworn an oath of blood in a basement in Brooklyn twenty years ago. He wore a dark grey suit, his hair immaculate, his face carrying the rugged, handsome features of a seasoned soldier.
"Alessandro," Victor said, his eyes shifting briefly to Victoria before locking onto me. "I didn't know you were back. We have a problem with the union reps at the docks. We need to talk."
"The docks can wait, Victor," I said, turning my body slightly so I could keep both of them in my line of sight. "We have a domestic issue. Mia Carter has vanished."
Victor’s expression remained perfectly calm. He shrugged, reaching into his pocket to pull out a silver cigarette case. "Housekeepers come and go, brother. They get tired of the hours, or they find better pay. I’ll have my guys find a replacement by tomorrow morning."
"She didn't leave her daughter, Victor," I said. "Harper is downstairs. She’s been looking for her mother for three days."
"Then she probably ran off with some guy," Victor said, flicking his lighter. "It happens. Don't waste your energy on the help, Alessandro. We have real work to do."
I looked at the two of them. Victoria was standing slightly behind Victor now, her hand resting on the edge of the vanity, her breathing shallow. Victor was too casual, too dismissive. For twenty years, Victor had treated everyone in this house like family. He had bought Harper a giant teddy bear for her birthday. Now, he was calling her mother "the help."
"I want the security logs for the last three days," I said to Victor. "Every camera feed, every gate log, every motion sensor. I want to see exactly when Mia left this property."
"Already on it," Victor said smoothly. "I'll have my tech guy pull the server archives. Might take a few hours. The storm knocked out the main generator yesterday, so some of the files might be corrupted."
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"Make it quick," I said. "I'll be in my study."
As I walked out, I felt their eyes on my back. It was a familiar feeling, but this time, the knives weren't coming from rival families or ambitious capos. They were coming from the inside of my own home.
