Chapter 3 - The Shadows Gather
The news of Alejandro Moretti’s sudden "incapacitation" spread through the underground arteries of New York like wildfire. Within hours, the city's powerful crime families were whispering of a power vacuum.
Inside the Moretti mansion, however, the atmosphere was dead silent.
Alejandro sat in his dim second-floor study, watching the rain streak down the tall windows. His body still burned from the strain of the poison and the massive hit of epinephrine, but his mind was crystal clear.
Sarah and Emma had been moved into the mansion's master guest suite—a luxurious wing usually reserved for visiting foreign diplomats. Sarah sat on the edge of the plush velvet bed, watching Emma peacefully sleep on a mound of down pillows, clutching her fluffy rabbit.
A quiet knock echoed at the door. Sarah opened it to find Alejandro standing there, dressed in a fresh black suit, accompanied by two guards carrying stacks of high-end toy boxes, clothes, and specialized medical kits.
"Mr. Moretti, this is too much," Sarah whispered, stepping into the hallway. "We are just the house staff. You don't owe us—"
"I owe her my life, Sarah," Alejandro interrupted softly. "In my world, debt is not a matter of money. It is a matter of blood and honor. Your daughter gave me a second chance at life. I will secure hers forever."
He signaled the guards to set the gifts inside, then looked down the hallway.
"Tell me, Sarah. Did you see anyone near my study before the glass broke?"
Sarah paused, thinking back to the afternoon. "I was in the basement laundry room most of the day. But... around three o'clock, I saw Mr. Marco coming down the grand staircase. He looked hurried. He didn't speak to me, which is unusual. He usually boasts or makes comments to the staff."
Alejandro’s jaw tightened. Marco Moretti was his first cousin—a smooth-talking, ambitious man who had long complained about Alejandro’s iron grip on the family business and his refusal to enter the narcotics trade.
"Marco," Alejandro murmured quietly.
At that moment, Bruno hurried up the stairs, holding a encrypted tablet. His face was grim.
"Boss, Marco just called an emergency meeting of the Capos at the harbor warehouse for midnight," Bruno reported, keeping his voice down. "He’s telling everyone you suffered a fatal stroke and that he is stepping in as interim Don to 'protect the family assets.'"
Alejandro let out a cold, humorless laugh. "He couldn't even wait until my body was cold before reaching for the crown."
"Should I send a tactical team to eliminate him right now?" Bruno asked, his hand drifting toward his holster.
"No," Alejandro answered coldly. "Killing Marco now makes him a martyr to those in the family who share his greed. I need absolute proof. I need everyone to see his treason with their own eyes."
"We checked the security feeds, Boss," Bruno said, shaking his head frustratingly. "The main cameras in your study were turned off per your orders three years ago. There is no footage of who entered the room or touched the Barolo."
Alejandro smiled faintly—a dangerous, sharp expression that made even Bruno shudder.
"The main cameras were off, Bruno," Alejandro said quietly. "But my father taught me never to trust a single defense."
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He turned toward the guest suite door, looking in at little Emma sleeping peacefully.
"There is another camera in that room. One that no one in this house knows exists. Not even you."
