Chapter 4 - The Envelope Beneath the Floor
Alessandro remained motionless.
For a man who had negotiated with killers, politicians, and men who could destroy entire companies with a telephone call, the idea of losing his empire had never frightened him.
But watching Isabella smile at the possibility of his daughter's death had awakened something different.
Something that money and power could not control.
“Tell me where the instructions are.”
Isabella shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“My father never tells me everything.”
“Then how did you learn about them?”
She hesitated.
Alessandro moved toward the door.
“Fine.”
“Wait!”
He stopped.
“I overheard him talking to someone.”
“Who?”
“A lawyer.”
“Name.”
“Arthur Bellini.”
Alessandro recognized it immediately.
Bellini had handled confidential matters for Vittorio Moretti for more than twenty years.
After Vittorio died, the attorney had quietly retired to a waterfront property in Connecticut.
At least that was what Alessandro had been told.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Where?”
“At my father's house in Chicago.”
“What did they say?”
Isabella looked down.
“They talked about a sealed letter.”
“What letter?”
“One your father supposedly wrote before he died.”
Alessandro waited.
“Bellini said there was a child.”
“Lily.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He said the child had a legal claim that could change the ownership of certain family assets.”
Alessandro's eyes narrowed.
“Which assets?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why would your father care?”
“Because some of those assets are controlled through Romano companies.”
The room fell silent.
Alessandro began to understand.
For years, the Moretti and Romano organizations had maintained a fragile partnership built around shipping terminals, warehouses, and commercial property.
But some of those transactions predated Alessandro's leadership.
His father had arranged them.
And his father had never fully explained the financial structure.
“Are you telling me Vincent Romano is holding property that belongs to my daughter?”
Isabella shook her head.
“I'm telling you my father believes she can take it away from him.”
Alessandro opened the door.
“Stay here.”
“Alessandro!”
He looked back.
“If you try to leave this property, my guards will stop you.”
“You can't imprison me.”
“You can call your attorney.”
“And my father?”
Alessandro's expression darkened.
“He'll be hearing from me.”
He left without another word.
Downstairs, Rosa was sitting on the couch, watching Lily arrange strawberries around Bun.
When Alessandro entered, she immediately rose.
“What happened?”
“I need to ask you something.”
Her face tightened.
“About Isabella?”
“About my father.”
Rosa went pale.
He noticed.
“Before he died, did Vittorio give you anything?”
Her hands began to tremble.
“Why?”
“Because Isabella knows about it.”
The plate slipped from Rosa's hands.
It struck the carpet, scattering strawberries.
Lily looked up.
“Mommy?”
Rosa barely heard her.
Alessandro crossed the room.
“What did he give you?”
She swallowed.
“A letter.”
“Where is it?”
Rosa shook her head.
“Not here.”
“Rosa.”
“I promised I wouldn't open it.”
“Promised whom?”
“Your father.”
Alessandro stared at her.
“The man who threatened you?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you promise him anything?”
Rosa looked toward Lily.
“Because he was dying.”
Alessandro's expression shifted.
“Explain.”
“Three weeks before he died, your father came to see me.”
“Where?”
“My apartment in Yonkers.”
“He came alone?”
“One driver stayed outside.”
“What did he want?”
Rosa lowered her voice.
“He apologized.”
Alessandro almost laughed.
His father had apologized to exactly two people in his entire life, as far as he knew.
One had been his wife.
The other had been a priest.
“Vittorio Moretti apologized?”
Rosa nodded.
“He looked sick.”
“He had cancer.”
“I didn't know.”
“Very few people did.”
“He said he had made a terrible mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
Rosa's eyes filled.
“He asked to see Lily.”
Alessandro looked toward the little girl.
“She was only a few months old.”
“I know.”
“Did you let him?”
Rosa nodded.
“He held her for almost an hour.”
Alessandro went completely still.
The image was almost impossible to imagine.
His father, the hardest man he had ever known, holding a baby girl in a modest apartment.
“Did he say anything?”
Rosa wiped her cheeks.
“He called her Elena.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
His mother's name.
The name his father had refused to speak aloud for years after her death.
“He told me Lily reminded him of someone he'd loved more than his own life.”
Alessandro stared at the floor.
“Then what?”
“He gave me an envelope.”
“What's inside?”
“I don't know.”
“You never opened it?”
“He made me promise.”
“Why?”
“He said I would know when the time came.”
Alessandro looked up.
“Where is it?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Under the floor.”
“Which floor?”
“My apartment.”
He blinked.
“You still have the apartment?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were staying with your cousin.”
“I use her address for mail.”
“Rosa, where do you actually live?”
She looked ashamed.
“In a small apartment above a laundromat.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“I couldn't afford the old place after my mother died.”
“What happened to the letter?”
“I took it with me.”
“Where did you hide it?”
Rosa swallowed.
“Beneath the floorboards under Lily's bed.”
Alessandro glanced toward Marco.
“Prepare two cars.”
Rosa immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Rosa, we need that letter.”
“I'm not leaving Lily.”
“Neither am I.”
He looked at the child.
“She comes with us.”
For the first time that morning, Rosa saw something other than anger in his face.
Responsibility.
Not the responsibility of a mafia boss toward a subordinate.
The responsibility of a father.
Twenty minutes later, a black SUV rolled through the estate gates.
Alessandro sat in the back beside Rosa.
Lily was secured in a child safety seat between them, holding Bun.
Two vehicles followed.
Rosa watched familiar streets pass through the tinted windows.
The laundromat occupied the ground floor of a narrow brick building in Yonkers.
Its blue sign had lost several letters.
Above it were three apartments.
Hers was the smallest.
When the convoy stopped, Rosa felt her stomach tighten.
Something was wrong.
The front door stood slightly open.
She had locked it that morning.
“Alessandro.”
He saw it too.
“Stay in the car.”
Marco approached the building with two security men.
Thirty seconds later, his voice sounded through Alessandro's earpiece.
“Boss, the apartment's been searched.”
Rosa covered her mouth.
“Lily's room?”
Alessandro listened.
His expression hardened.
“Marco, check beneath the bed.”
A pause.
Then a sound of breaking wood came through the connection.
Another pause.
Finally, Marco answered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The floorboards are already torn up.”
Rosa began shaking.
“No.”
Alessandro leaned forward.
“Did they find anything?”
Marco hesitated.
Then he said the words neither of them wanted to hear.
“There's an empty envelope on the floor.”
He lowered his voice.
“And someone left a message written across it.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“Read it.”
Marco spoke carefully.
May you like
The girl belongs to the family.
The mother does not.
