Chapter 4 - The Hunt Begins
"Marcus," Rocco said, turning sharply toward his consigliere with an expression of cold, absolute resolve. "Contact our contacts at international aviation control. Ground that private flight to Zurich immediately. If Alistair’s plane crosses international airspace, I want every asset in our European network waiting on the tarmac when he touches down."
"Consider it done, Boss," Marcus replied, his fingers flying across the tablet terminal. "What about the girl and her mother?"
Rocco looked down at Sophia. The little girl was shivering slightly from the lingering chill of her wet sweater, yet her posture remained upright and unyielding. She looked up at him without blinking, showing a spine of steel that many grown capos lacked.
"Elena," Rocco addressed the kneeling maid, his tone firm but measured. "Rise."
Elena stood up shakily, clutching her apron. "Yes, Mr. Moretti?"
"From this moment forward, you are no longer a standard domestic staff member. You will oversee the private east wing nursery. Your salary is increased tenfold, and you and your daughter will be provided quarters fit for family, not servants." Rocco paused, his gaze softening marginally as he looked at Sophia. "And Sophia... you have earned a permanent debt from the Moretti family. Name whatever you wish, and it is yours."
Sophia shook her head slowly. "I don't want anything expensive, sir. I just want to make sure the baby stays warm and safe."
A rare, faint ghost of a smile touched the corner of Rocco's mouth. "You have a better heart than anyone in this house, child. Go with your mother. Get dry clothes, and get some rest. Tomorrow, our lives change."
As Elena hurried away, guiding Sophia down the hallway toward the staff quarters, Rocco turned his attention back to the urgent matters of his empire. He walked down the long, dimly lit corridor toward the blue parlor where Valentina was being held.
The heavy oak doors swung open at his silent command. Valentina was sitting rigidly in a velvet armchair, her silk robe slightly rumpled, her face twisted in a mixture of fear and bitter defiance. Two elite guards stood at attention by the door.
"Rocco," Valentina spat out, trying to mask her terror with arrogance. "You are making a monumental mistake. Lock me away all you want, but your father's council will hear about this. You are letting a maid's brat manipulate you into—"
"Silence," Rocco interrupted, walking slowly toward her until he stood directly over her chair, the baby still cradled securely in one arm, while his free hand rested inside his jacket near his holster.
Valentina choked on her words as she saw the infant resting against his chest. For a second, her eyes widened in horror. She thought the trash bin behind the kitchen had done its job. She thought the loose end had been permanently tied up.
"You gave birth to my son," Rocco said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "You lied about a miscarriage. You smuggled him out of a private clinic, and you ordered someone to throw him into the trash like garbage."
"He... he was a complication!" Valentina finally screamed, her mask completely dissolving into hysterical rage. "The succession laws within the syndicate require a clean lineage, and with my family losing influence, I needed to secure my position without a weak link! That baby was supposed to disappear!"
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Rocco didn't yell. He didn't strike her. He simply looked at her with a depth of disgust so profound it felt like a physical blow.
"You forget whose blood runs through his veins," Rocco whispered. "You thought you could dispose of a Moretti heir. But you failed. And now, you will pay for every single second of this betrayal."
