Chapter 8 - Preparing the Storm
When Alessandro climbed back out of the subterranean vault and pulled the heavy iron slab shut over the entrance, camouflaging it carefully with wet weeds and dirt, the storm outside had begun to subside. The wind had dropped to a low, mournful sigh through the cypress trees, and the first pale streaks of gray dawn were bleeding across the eastern horizon over the Long Island Sound.
He walked up the wet stone path toward the mansion, his boots leaving deep prints in the mud.
Inside the kitchen, the light was warm and amber. Rosa Marino was standing by the large cast-iron stove, stirring a small pot of milk. Lily was sitting on a wooden stool nearby, wrapped head to toe in Alessandro’s oversized cashmere coat, clutching her stuffed rabbit and sipping slowly from a ceramic mug.
When the heavy oak door creaked open, both of them turned.
Lily’s eyes widened with relief. "Mr. Moretti! You're back!"
Rosa turned around, wiping her hands on her apron, her sharp old eyes scanning Alessandro from head to toe—taking in the mud-stained trousers, the wet hair, and the terrifying, dead calm in his dark eyes.
"Boss," Rosa said, her voice dropping an octave as she instinctively stepped protectively in front of the little girl. "What happened? You look like you've seen the ghosts of purgatory."
"Rosa," Alessandro said, his voice terrifyingly quiet, devoid of any tremor. "Take Lily to the safe apartments on the third floor. Lock the reinforced security door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone—do you hear me? Anyone—unless I am the one standing outside saying the passphrase."
Rosa’s breath hitched. She had worked for the Moretti family for forty years; she knew that tone. It was the tone that preceded a bloodbath.
"Alessandro," Rosa whispered, her voice shaking. "What did you find down there?"
"The truth," Alessandro said flatly. He reached into his coat, pulled out a thick envelope containing Isabella’s keys and the vault documents, and handed it to the old woman. "If I don't come back before noon, take that envelope and give it directly to Federal Prosecutor James Vance in Manhattan. He's the only one in the city who hasn't been bought."
Rosa’s eyes filled with tears, but she nodded firmly, gripping the envelope to her chest. She grabbed Lily’s hand. "Come, little bird. We're going upstairs."
"Is Mr. Moretti coming?" Lily asked, looking back with big, worried eyes.
"Yes," Alessandro lied, his voice steady as he looked down at the child who had unwittingly led him out of the dark. "I'll be right behind you."
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He watched them disappear up the service stairs, listening to the heavy bolt of the third-floor safe room click securely into place.
Then, Alessandro turned around, drew his Sig Sauer pistol from his holster, racked a fresh round into the chamber with a sharp, metallic snap, and walked out into the grand foyer to wait for his head of security to arrive for the morning briefing.
