Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Kitchen
"Emma,
go find your mother,"
Aleandro said,
never taking his eyes off the broken woman in front of him.
The child slid out of the chair,
her movements silent as a shadow,
and vanished through the door without a word.
Once she was gone,
the atmosphere in the room changed,
becoming darker,
more intimate,
the scent of impending violence mingling with the jasmine.
"Who is 'they',
Isabella?"
Aleandro asked,
his voice dropping to a whisper that carried more weight than a shout.
She shook her head,
her dark hair falling over her face,
hiding the shame that was etched into every line of her features.
"I can't say,
they'll kill him,"
she sobbed,
finally letting the tears fall,
fat droplets that stained the silk of her white dress.
Aleandro walked around the desk,
standing directly in front of her,
his presence a physical weight she couldn't escape.
He reached down and tilted her chin up,
forcing her to look into the eyes of the man who could destroy her entire world.
"They are already killing him,
Isabella,
and they are killing you,
and they are trying to kill me,"
he said.
"The only way anyone survives the night is if I know the name."
She trembled under his touch,
her lips quivering,
the secrets fighting to stay inside her.
"The Vane family,"
she finally gasped out,
the name of his oldest rivals,
a family that had been quiet for years,
waiting for a moment of weakness.
Aleandro felt a surge of cold fury;
the Vanes were scavengers,
men who fought with knives in the dark rather than honor in the light.
To think they had used his own fiancée to infiltrate his inner sanctum made his blood boil.
But there was more,
he could see it in the way she wouldn't meet his eyes,
in the way she pulled away from his hand.
"What else did you give them?"
he asked,
his voice turning to ice.
"Just the bug,
Aleandro,
I swear,
they just wanted to know your schedules,
the shipment dates for the docks,"
she cried.
He didn't believe her;
in his world,
there was never just one thing,
never just one bug,
never just one lie.
He walked to the door and pressed the intercom,
his voice projecting throughout the vast mansion.
"Marco,
bring the housekeeper to my office,
now,"
he ordered.
He needed to know how a six-year-old child knew where to look for a device that professional sweeps had missed.
Isabella watched him,
her eyes wide with terror,
realizing that the circle was closing in on everyone she knew.
She reached out for his hand,
but he stepped back,
leaving her grasping at the empty air.
"You were the one person I thought was mine,"
he said,
the words sounding like a eulogy.
"The one thing the Moretti name couldn't buy,
but you were on the market the whole time."
A few minutes later,
the door opened again,
and Marco,
his head of security,
pushed the housekeeper,
Maria,
into the room.
Emma followed close behind,
holding her mother’s hand,
her face still and unreadable.
Maria was trembling,
her eyes darting from the weeping Isabella to the cold Aleandro,
sensing the shift in the house’s gravity.
"Sir,
is something wrong?"
Maria asked,
her voice barely audible over the sound of Isabella’s muffled sobs.
"Your daughter has a very sharp eye,
Maria,"
Aleandro said,
gesturing toward the painting.
"I want to know how she knew to look behind that canvas."
Maria looked at Emma,
and for a moment,
a strange look passed between mother and daughter,
a look of shared secrets and hidden burdens.
"She... she plays in here when you're out,
sir,"
Maria stammered,
but Aleandro saw the lie before it was even finished.
"The truth,
Maria,
or you're both out on the street tonight,"
he threatened,
a cruelty he hated but found necessary.
Emma stepped forward then,
her small voice cutting through the tension like a bell.
"I saw her doing it before,"
Emma said,
pointing not at Isabella,
but at the painting of his sister on the other wall.
"Another lady,
a long time ago,
when I was little."
Aleandro felt the floor drop away;
the betrayal didn't start with Isabella.
It had been happening for years,
May you like
under the noses of his best men,
a slow poison leaking into the heart of his home.
