Chapter 2 - The Housekeeper Who Knew Too Much
By seven in the morning, the Moretti estate was no longer quiet.
Men moved through hallways carrying files.
Security teams checked gates.
Phones rang.
Cars came and went.
Sophie sat at the breakfast table wearing a yellow sweater borrowed from the housekeeper's daughter and eating pieces of toast one at a time.
Lorenzo stood across from her.
“You're not going to school today.”
Sophie shook her head.
“I don't like school.”
“That makes two of us.”
She looked at him.
“Do you go to school?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm old.”
“How old?”
“Forty-two.”
She considered the number.
“That's very old.”
Nolan coughed from the doorway.
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Something funny?”
“No, sir.”
Sophie smiled.
For half a second, Lorenzo almost forgot the blood in the Mercedes.
Then Nolan placed a folder on the table.
“We found Elena's phone carrier records.”
“And?”
“She made eleven calls after leaving the estate.”
“Who?”
“All blocked numbers.”
“Locations?”
Nolan pointed to the map.
“Three calls came from around Fishtown. Four from South Philadelphia. The final four were made within two miles of Blackwater Pier.”
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
“That's not random.”
“No.”
“What else?”
Nolan hesitated.
“There's a second issue.”
“Tell me.”
“Elena wasn't simply your housekeeper.”
Lorenzo looked at Sophie.
“Go sit in the library.”
The child frowned.
“Why?”
“Because adults are about to be boring.”
She considered this.
“Okay.”
She climbed down and walked away.
Once she was gone, Lorenzo turned back.
“Talk.”
Nolan opened the file.
“Elena Carter's legal name is Elena Marquez.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Marquez?”
“Yes.”
“The Marquez family?”
Nolan nodded.
“Her father was Rafael Marquez.”
Lorenzo remembered him.
A lieutenant in an old smuggling network.
Violent.
Careless.
Dead after a warehouse fire fifteen years ago.
“I thought the Marquez family was gone.”
“Most of them are.”
“What was Elena doing working as my housekeeper?”
“Apparently hiding.”
“From whom?”
Nolan opened another file.
“From her husband.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“Elena's husband is Mateo Carter.”
“Formerly Mateo Alvarez.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
Alvarez.
That name carried its own weight.
Mateo Alvarez had been one of the few men who had ever tried to challenge Lorenzo's family.
He disappeared five years ago.
Everyone assumed he was dead.
Nolan slid across a photograph.
Mateo.
Alive.
Older.
Standing beside a woman in a red coat.
“Who's she?”
“We're still identifying her.”
Lorenzo looked at the picture.
Something felt wrong.
The woman looked familiar.
He couldn't place her.
Nolan continued.
“Elena filed for a protection order against Mateo two years ago.”
“Why?”
“Domestic violence.”
Lorenzo looked toward the library.
Sophie was sitting on the floor with crayons.
“Did the police know where she was?”
“No.”
“Then why did Mateo disappear?”
“We don't know.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Find him.”
“Already trying.”
“And find the woman in red.”
Nolan nodded.
Lorenzo entered the library.
Sophie looked up.
“Mr. Lorenzo.”
“Yes?”
“Are you angry?”
He crouched.
“A little.”
“Because Mommy is gone?”
“Yes.”
“Don't be.”
“Why?”
“She said angry men make bad choices.”
Lorenzo smiled faintly.
“Your mother sounds smart.”
“She is.”
“Does she love you?”
“Yes.”
“Does your father love you?”
Sophie stopped coloring.
“I don't know.”
That answer stayed with him.
He sat on the floor.
“What happened yesterday?”
Sophie drew a house.
“Mommy took me to the park.”
“Then?”
“Daddy came.”
“Did he hurt her?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“He said she had to come home.”
“And?”
“Mommy said no.”
“Then what?”
Sophie drew a black circle outside the house.
“Then the black car came.”
Lorenzo watched.
“Who was inside?”
“Uncle.”
“Which uncle?”
She shrugged.
“Uncle with the blue eyes.”
Lorenzo's mind moved quickly.
He knew almost everyone connected to his organization.
Several had blue eyes.
But one name surfaced.
Thomas Moretti.
His father's younger brother.
His uncle.
A man who had disappeared from family life after Luca's death.
A man Lorenzo hadn't seen in eight years.
He stood immediately.
Sophie looked up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make a phone call.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Bring Mommy.”
The words stopped him.
He looked at the little girl.
“I will.”
This time he wasn't making a promise to himself.
He was making it to her.
Later that morning, Lorenzo drove to the old Moretti warehouse district.
Thomas wasn't there.
Instead, Lorenzo found someone else.
A retired detective named Ray Collins.
Ray had worked homicide twenty years earlier.
When Lorenzo walked in, Ray sighed.
“Your father would have hated this visit.”
“My father hated most visits.”
“Fair.”
Lorenzo placed Elena's photograph on the desk.
“You know her?”
Ray looked at it.
His expression changed.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father asked me to watch her.”
Lorenzo's eyes hardened.
“Why?”
“Because Elena was a witness.”
“To what?”
“Your father's death.”
The room went silent.
Lorenzo stared.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Ray shook his head.
“That was the official story.”
“And the truth?”
“He was murdered.”
Lorenzo's breathing changed.
“Who killed him?”
“We never proved it.”
“Who did you suspect?”
Ray looked toward the window.
“Gideon Cross.”
Lorenzo knew the name.
Gideon Cross had been his father's closest business partner.
He had disappeared shortly after the accident.
Ray continued.
“Your father had evidence against him.”
“What kind?”
“Financial records.”
“Why would Elena know?”
“Because she was working for your father at the time.”
Lorenzo stared.
“She was eighteen.”
“Yes.”
“She never mentioned any of this.”
“She was terrified.”
“Of Gideon?”
“Of everyone.”
Lorenzo stood.
“What happened to the evidence?”
Ray shook his head.
“Your father hid it.”
“Where?”
“Never found out.”
Ray looked at him.
“But I think Elena knew.”
Lorenzo's phone rang.
Nolan.
He answered.
“Tell me.”
“We found Mateo.”
“Where?”
Silence.
“Say it.”
“Blackpine Cemetery.”
Lorenzo's stomach tightened.
“Alive?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes.
“How?”
“Gunshot.”
Lorenzo looked at Elena's photograph.
Then at Ray.
“Someone killed Mateo.”
Ray nodded.
“Then they know Elena is missing.”
Lorenzo hung up.
He called the estate.
“Sophie is not to leave that room.”
“Yes, sir.”
He drove straight to the cemetery.
Mateo's body lay beside an old stone wall.
His hands had been tied.
In his coat pocket was a photograph.
Elena.
And Sophie.
And beneath them, written in ink:
NEXT IS THE CHILD.
Lorenzo's blood went cold.
He immediately turned toward the car.
“Get everyone out of the estate.”
Nolan's voice came through the phone.
“Already moving.”
Lorenzo froze.
“What?”
“We have a breach.”
“Where?”
“The east gate.”
“Is Sophie safe?”
A pause.
May you like
Then Nolan said the words Lorenzo never wanted to hear.
“We can't find her.”
