Chapter 2 - The Man Behind the Fear
Victor drove through downtown without speaking.
I sat in the back seat watching the city change outside the window.
Rosie's Diner belonged to one world.
Alessandro Romano belonged to another.
The streets became wider.
The buildings became taller.
Security cameras appeared on almost every corner.
Finally, we stopped in front of a black stone building with no sign.
Victor opened the door.
“Stay close.”
“I can walk by myself.”
“I know.”
“Then stop telling me.”
He looked at me.
“You really do that to everyone?”
“Do what?”
“Talk like you're not afraid.”
I swallowed.
“I am afraid.”
He studied me.
“You don't act like it.”
“I learned a long time ago that acting afraid doesn't make people kinder.”
Victor didn't answer.
Inside, two guards searched me.
Wallet.
Phone.
Keys.
Then I entered an elevator.
The doors opened on the top floor.
I stepped into a room surrounded by windows.
The city stretched beneath us.
Alessandro stood near the glass.
His overcoat was gone.
White shirt.
Dark trousers.
His sleeves were rolled to his forearms.
He turned.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, “You came.”
“You sent a photograph of my mother.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to understand.”
“I understand that you're spying on my family.”
His expression hardened.
“No.”
“Then explain.”
He walked toward the desk.
“Your mother isn't in danger because of me.”
“She was followed from the hospital.”
“I know.”
“By who?”
“We're trying to find out.”
I stared at him.
“We?”
“My people.”
I crossed my arms.
“And what exactly do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
I laughed.
“Men like you never want nothing.”
Something flickered across his face.
“Fair.”
He placed a folder on the desk.
Inside was information about my mother's medical condition.
Doctors.
Medication.
Treatment options.
I looked up.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you shouldn't have to choose between paying your rent and keeping your mother alive.”
I froze.
He continued.
“I know your insurance denied the specialized treatment.”
“Stop.”
“I know the hospital offered a payment plan you can't afford.”
“Stop.”
“I know you've been working double shifts.”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
I stared at the papers.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because someone else was investigating you first.”
That answer silenced me.
He sat across from me.
“I had you watched six months ago.”
“Six months?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother received a letter.”
My heart skipped.
“What letter?”
He handed me another document.
A scanned page.
Your debt has been paid.
Not by you.
Not by the bank.
By someone who knows what you owe.
I recognized the handwriting.
The letter had been in my mother's things.
I had assumed it was a mistake.
My mother had never told me.
I looked at Alessandro.
“She received this.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Who sent it?”
“We don't know.”
“You know a lot for someone who claims he doesn't know.”
He leaned forward.
“I know enough to know that someone has been using your mother to get to me.”
I stared.
“I don't understand.”
“You shouldn't.”
“Then explain.”
Alessandro rubbed his jaw.
“Your mother worked at Romano Imports twenty years ago.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She worked at a hospital.”
“Before that.”
I shook my head.
“I've never heard this.”
“Because she left before you were born.”
I sat down.
“Why would you know?”
“My father employed her.”
I looked at him.
“Doing what?”
“Bookkeeping.”
I remembered my mother always telling me she had worked "a dozen jobs" when she was younger.
Nothing about a Romano company.
Nothing about bookkeeping.
Nothing about organized crime.
Alessandro looked at me.
“She knew where the money moved.”
“What money?”
“The kind people kill for.”
My stomach twisted.
“Is that why you're here?”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“That is why someone is coming for you.”
He slid a second photograph across the desk.
My mother.
Young.
Standing beside two men.
One was Alessandro's father.
The other was a man I didn't recognize.
“Who is that?”
“My uncle Matteo.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“How?”
“Car bomb.”
I stared.
Alessandro looked away.
“My father died six months later.”
“Were they killed because of my mother?”
“We don't know.”
“Then why involve me?”
“Because your mother disappeared with something.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
I almost laughed.
“You're telling me my mother stole a mafia ledger?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“I’m telling you she protected it.”
I stood.
“I don't want any part of this.”
“I know.”
“I want to go home.”
“You can't.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The men who have been watching you know where you live.”
“You said my mother was safe.”
“She is.”
“Then why can't I go home?”
“Because your apartment has been searched.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Last night.”
My breath caught.
“Was my mother—?”
“No.”
He stood.
“She was with security.”
I covered my face.
“This is insane.”
Alessandro was silent.
Then he said softly, “I know.”
I looked at him.
“Why do you care?”
He answered immediately.
“Because your mother once saved my life.”
I froze.
“What?”
“When I was nineteen, someone poisoned my father’s drink.”
Alessandro's eyes darkened.
“Your mother saw the symptoms before anyone else.”
“She was a bookkeeper.”
“She had medical training.”
I remembered.
My mother had once worked as a nurse.
She had abandoned it after my father died.
I had never understood why.
Alessandro continued.
“She recognized the poison.”
“What happened?”
“She kept me alive.”
“And now?”
“Now I owe her.”
I sat again.
“You've been protecting us?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling us.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
I stared.
“Why didn't you just say something?”
“Because you would have refused.”
I laughed despite myself.
“You know me well.”
“Better than you think.”
My pulse jumped.
He stood.
“You'll stay here tonight.”
“No.”
“You don't have to stay with me.”
“That's not better.”
“I have another house.”
“I don't trust you.”
“I know.”
“Then why assume I'll agree?”
He looked at me.
“Because you trust yourself.”
That sentence stopped me.
He continued.
“You can leave at any time.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And no one will stop me?”
“No.”
“Then why stay?”
“Because if the people watching you see you leave, they'll follow.”
I looked toward the windows.
The city glittered below.
For the first time, I wondered what it would feel like to have no safe place.
Then I thought about my mother.
I nodded.
“One night.”
“One night.”
But when I left the room, Alessandro called after me.
“Lena.”
I turned.
He held out my phone.
“You forgot this.”
I took it.
Our fingers touched.
Something strange passed between us.
His eyes stayed on mine.
Then he let go.
“Good night.”
I walked away.
I didn't know that the moment our hands touched, someone on a nearby rooftop took a photograph.
May you like
I didn't know that photograph would be sent to the man who had been hunting my mother for twenty years.
And I certainly didn't know that by sunrise, Alessandro Romano would be shot trying to save my life.
