Chapter 4 - Empty Drawers
At 5:54 PM, the heavy double oak doors of the Moretti estate swung open.
Alessandro stepped into the grand foyer. He wore a dark, bespoke wool coat over a crisp charcoal suit. His left hand held his polished black cane, while his dark sunglasses covered his eyes as usual. Behind him walked Frankie "The Hammer" Vane, carrying a briefcase.
The house was unnaturally quiet.
Usually, at six in the evening, the air smelled of roasted garlic and olive oil from the kitchen. The sound of Mia’s laughter would echo down from the second-floor mezzanine, accompanied by the gentle, steady sound of Elena’s voice.
Tonight, there was only the hum of the central heating and the heavy pattern of rain against the glass dome above the staircase.
Alessandro stopped in the center of the foyer. His nostrils flared slightly.
No lavender soap. No warm vanilla perfume.
“Frankie,” Alessandro said softly, his voice cutting through the silence.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Where is Marta?”
“I’ll check the kitchen, boss,” Frankie said, stepping toward the staff hallway.
Alessandro didn't wait. He moved with a speed that surprised Frankie, his cane tapping rhythmically against the marble floor as he bypassed the main living quarters and walked straight down the east corridor toward the domestic staff rooms.
He reached the small, cozy room assigned to Elena and Mia.
The door was unlocked. He pushed it open.
Through the heavy tint of his dark glasses, his recovering left eye registered a barren, stripped room.
The bed was made with cold, industrial precision. The small bookshelf that had held Mia’s colorful storybooks was empty. The small desk where Elena kept her personal journal was bare.
Alessandro stepped inside. He dropped his cane against the wall, reached up with both hands, and pulled open the top oak drawer of the dresser.
Empty.
He opened the closet.
Elena’s blue housekeeping uniforms were missing. Only two wooden hangers swung silently on the brass rod.
He looked down at the floor near the small nightstand.
There, lying in the corner under the dust ruffle, was a tiny piece of bright yellow plastic.
Alessandro knelt down, his knee striking the hardwood floor. He picked up the object.
It was a tiny, broken battery cover from Mia’s yellow flashlight.
His heart dropped into an icy abyss.
Behind him, heavy heels clicked against the hardwood floor of the corridor.
Alessandro stood up slowly, slipping the plastic cover into his suit pocket. He kept his back turned to the door, his dark glasses still hiding his eyes.
Isabella Romano stood in the doorway, leaning gracefully against the frame. She wore her gray wool dress, a glass of white wine held casually between her red-manicured fingers.
“You’re home early, darling,” Isabella said, her tone light, airy, and entirely unbothered. “I thought your meeting in Naples was going to run until nine.”
Alessandro didn't answer immediately. He stood perfectly still in the center of the empty room, his tall frame blocking the fading light from the window.
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“Where is Elena?” Alessandro asked. His voice was dangerously low, a soft growl that had heralded the death of many men in the past.
Isabella took a slow sip of her wine. “Oh, the housekeeper? I terminated her contract an hour ago.”
