Chapter 2 - The Night Rosa Disappeared
Alessandro did not speak for several seconds.
Then he looked at Bruno.
“Take Lily to the kitchen.”
Rosa immediately tightened her arms.
“No.”
“Rosa.”
“No one takes her away from me.”
The desperation in her voice stopped him.
He raised both hands.
“Okay.”
Then he turned toward Bruno.
“Have Margaret prepare the small sitting room beside my study.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Bring breakfast for the child.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“And Bruno?”
The old man paused.
“No one enters or leaves this property without my permission.”
Bruno nodded.
“Understood.”
Within minutes, the estate began to change.
Security guards moved toward the gates.
Cars were repositioned along the driveway.
Cameras that normally watched the property for intruders were redirected toward the interior entrances.
Upstairs, Isabella continued her telephone conversation, unaware that the man she intended to marry had just placed the house under lockdown.
Alessandro led Rosa into the sitting room.
Lily settled on a velvet couch with her stuffed rabbit, which Margaret had retrieved from the kitchen.
A plate of sliced strawberries sat beside her.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Then Alessandro pulled a chair across the carpet and sat directly opposite Rosa.
“Start from the beginning.”
She stared at her hands.
“You remember the night in Manhattan.”
“I remember every minute.”
Rosa looked up.
He said nothing more.
She drew a shaky breath.
“Three weeks after that night, I found out I was pregnant.”
Alessandro leaned forward.
“You should have told me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because someone already knew.”
He went still.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
The words struck with more force than Rosa expected.
Don Vittorio Moretti had died three years earlier.
During his lifetime, he had been respected throughout the criminal underworld as a man whose decisions were final.
Alessandro had spent most of his adult life trying to escape his father's shadow.
Now that shadow was sitting between them.
“My father knew you were pregnant?”
Rosa nodded.
“He sent a car to my apartment.”
“What car?”
“A black sedan.”
“Who was driving?”
“I never saw his face.”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
“They took me to your father's office.”
She could still remember the smell of cigar smoke.
The thick red carpet.
The heavy curtains.
And Vittorio sitting behind his desk with a photograph of her mother placed directly in front of him.
“He told me he knew everything.”
Alessandro's face remained expressionless.
“He said you were being prepared to marry someone important.”
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
“He hadn't mentioned a marriage to me.”
“He said the family couldn't afford a scandal.”
Rosa looked away.
“I told him I didn't want money.”
“Did he offer you money?”
“A million dollars.”
Alessandro's fingers curled against the armrest.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I wanted you to know about the baby.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
Rosa continued.
“He said I was confusing one night with a future.”
For a moment, Alessandro could almost hear his father's voice.
Cold.
Certain.
Cruel in the particular way powerful men became when they believed the lives of others were nothing but obstacles.
“He told me to terminate the pregnancy,” Rosa whispered.
Alessandro rose so suddenly that his chair scraped across the floor.
Lily looked up.
“Big man?”
He stopped immediately.
His expression softened.
“Everything's okay, sweetheart.”
Lily considered him.
Then returned to feeding a strawberry to her stuffed rabbit.
Alessandro turned back.
“Continue.”
“I refused.”
“What did he do?”
“He told me I was making a dangerous mistake.”
Rosa wiped her cheeks.
“Three days later, someone broke into my apartment.”
Alessandro's face changed.
“What?”
“I came home from work and found the place destroyed.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They said it looked like a burglary.”
“But you didn't believe them.”
Rosa shook her head.
“They didn't take my television.”
“Or your jewelry?”
“I didn't have any.”
“What did they take?”
She looked at him.
“My medical records.”
The room went silent.
Alessandro sat down again.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
“Someone wanted proof of the pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“A week later, I was crossing the street outside my doctor's office.”
Her voice cracked.
“A van accelerated toward me.”
Alessandro stopped breathing.
“I jumped backward.”
“Did it hit you?”
“Not directly.”
She lifted the sleeve of her blouse.
An old scar ran along her forearm.
“I fell against a parked car.”
His gaze fixed on the scar.
Four years of morning greetings.
Four years of brief conversations.
Four years of passing her in the hallway.
And he had never once asked how she'd gotten it.
“I went to the hospital,” Rosa said.
“They told me the baby was okay.”
“Did you report the van?”
“Yes.”
“License plate?”
“I didn't see it.”
Alessandro pressed his hand against his mouth.
“What happened next?”
“Your father visited me in the hospital.”
That made him look up sharply.
“He told me accidents happen when people refuse good advice.”
Alessandro stood again.
This time, he walked to the window.
Outside, the Hudson River glittered beneath the morning sunlight.
His father's grave stood beneath an enormous marble monument less than five miles away.
For three years, Alessandro had visited it every Christmas.
Now he wondered what else the old man had buried.
“Why did you come back?” he asked.
Rosa looked toward Lily.
“Because your father died.”
“That was three years ago.”
“I didn't come immediately.”
“Why?”
“I had no money.”
She wiped her face.
“My mother was sick.”
Alessandro turned.
“Your mother?”
“She had cancer.”
“Where is she now?”
Rosa lowered her eyes.
“She died when Lily was eight months old.”
His expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
Rosa nodded.
“I moved from apartment to apartment.”
She glanced at Lily.
“Eventually, I found work through an agency.”
“Here.”
“Yes.”
“You knew this was my house?”
“Of course.”
“Then why risk it?”
She gave him a sad smile.
“Because nobody would look for your daughter in your own kitchen.”
Alessandro stared at her.
For the first time, he understood that Rosa had not simply hidden from him.
She had hidden beneath the protection of his name.
Without asking permission.
Without claiming anything.
Without making a demand.
He lowered his head.
“Who knew?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Your father.”
“He's dead.”
“And someone else.”
“Who?”
Before she could answer, Alessandro's phone vibrated.
A message from his head of security appeared on the screen.
Boss, we intercepted an outgoing call from the west wing.
Miss Romano gave someone instructions to retrieve the child before noon.
Alessandro stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
May you like
She said the original operation failed four years ago.
This time, there must be no witnesses.
