Chapter 7 - The Interrogation at the Gate
Two days later, a sleek black sedan bearing Chicago Police Department insignia pulled up to the security gates of the Moretti estate.
Inside the guardhouse, the head of the security detail punched a code into the intercom, watching the monitor as a middle-aged detective in a rumpled trench coat stepped out of the car, flashing a badge at the camera.
“Detective Miller, 19th Precinct,” the man announced through the speaker. “I need to speak with Dante Moretti and his household manager regarding the incident at Bellamy House last week.”
Within three minutes, the heavy iron gates swung open automatically. However, instead of being greeted by local guards, Detective Miller found himself stepping out into the courtyard to face Dante Moretti himself, flanked by two security operatives.
Dante stood tall in the cool autumn air, his expression an impenetrable mask of polite indifference.
“Detective Miller,” Dante said smoothly, closing the distance between them. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of a visit to my home?”
Miller adjusted his trench coat, looking around the sprawling estate with a cynical eye. “Cut the charm, Moretti. You know exactly why I’m here. A six-year-old child nearly died of poisoning in a public restaurant last week, and your security team swept the scene before my officers could even cross the threshold.”
“My daughter fell ill, and my private physician attended to her immediately,” Dante replied evenly. “The restaurant manager filed a report, and the health inspector cleared the establishment. There is no active investigation required.”
“That’s not how the law works,” Miller stepped closer, his jaw set. “We have an anonymous tip that a staff member—a waitress named Mara Ellis—witnessed a deliberate poisoning and was quietly relocated to this property under your direct employment.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “Miss Ellis is a private citizen employed by my household. She is under no obligation to answer questions from a local detective who shows up at my gates without an appointment or a judicial warrant.”
“Let me speak to her, Dante,” Miller pressed. “If you’re hiding her—if you’re intimidating a witness—”
“Detective,” a clear, steady voice interrupted from the stone pathway behind Dante.
Miller looked past Dante’s shoulder to see Mara walking toward them. She wore a tailored navy blazer and black trousers, her posture confident and composed. She had seen the police car pull up from the library window and had decided she was done hiding behind anyone—least of all letting Dante fight a battle that was rightfully hers.
“Miss Ellis?” Miller asked, stepping forward.
“I am Mara Ellis,” she said, stopping two feet away from Dante. She looked the detective dead in the eye. “Mr. Moretti isn't hiding me, Detective. I chose to leave my job at Bellamy House, and I chose to accept a position here. As for the night of the birthday party, I gave a full account of what I saw to Mr. Moretti’s security team, and I am entirely willing to repeat it to the authorities—provided proper legal protocols are observed through my own attorney.”
Miller stared at her, clearly surprised by her poise and defiance. He had expected a terrified waitress cowering behind a mob boss; instead, he found a woman who commanded the courtyard with as much dignity as Dante himself.
“You realize you’re walking into a den of wolves, young lady?” Miller warned quietly.
Mara offered a faint, unbothered smile. “Detective, I’ve worked in the Chicago restaurant industry for two years. Trust me, I know how to spot a wolf. And Mr. Moretti is the least of my worries.”
Dante glanced sideways at Mara, a flicker of profound admiration crossing his stern features.
Miller realized he had no legal ground to stand on, no warrant, and an uncooperative witness who was legally protected. He tipped his head slightly in grudging acknowledgment.
“This isn't over, Moretti,” Miller muttered, turning back toward his cruiser.
“Have a safe drive back to the precinct, Detective,” Dante replied smoothly.
As the police cruiser backed out of the gates and disappeared down the road, Dante turned to Mara.
“You didn't have to come out there,” Dante said, his voice softening.
May you like
“Yes, I did,” Mara answered, meeting his gaze. “If I’m going to manage this house, I’m not going to hide in the shadows every time someone knocks on the front door.”
Dante let out a low, approving laugh, the tension completely draining from his broad shoulders.
