Chapter 3 - The Man Who Lied to the Boss
Aleandro did not ask me to remember everything at once.
Instead, he sat across from me and waited.
It was the same patience he'd once shown when I was frightened during thunderstorms.
That memory hurt.
"Tell me what you remember," he said.
"I heard voices."
"Whose?"
"I don't know."
"Try."
I closed my eyes.
"The first man sounded angry."
"Words?"
"Something about money."
Aleandro nodded.
"What else?"
"There was a woman."
His expression changed.
"What woman?"
"I don't know."
"You never told me."
"I was afraid."
"Of me?"
"Of what I heard."
Silence filled the room.
Finally I said, "She said she didn't mean for anyone to die."
Aleandro stood.
"Anyone?"
"That's what she said."
He walked toward the window.
"Then the ledger isn't the only thing they took."
"What else?"
"My family has been searching for someone."
"Who?"
"A woman named Elena Rossi."
The name meant nothing to me.
Until I remembered the crying voice.
"I think that was her."
Aleandro turned.
"Are you sure?"
"I think so."
"Emma, that's impossible."
"Why?"
"Elena disappeared eight months ago."
My heart sank.
"Then maybe she didn't."
Aleandro immediately called Marco.
"Find Elena Rossi."
Marco's voice came through the speaker.
"We've tried."
"Try again."
"There are no records."
"Then make records."
Marco hesitated.
"Understood."
Aleandro ended the call.
I stared at him.
"You've gone quiet."
"I'm thinking."
"About?"
"You."
I frowned.
"What about me?"
"The night you left."
I looked away.
He continued.
"You said you couldn't live with me anymore."
"I couldn't."
"You said you felt like my prisoner."
"I did."
"I asked if you loved me."
I swallowed.
"You didn't answer."
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because loving you wasn't the problem."
He looked at me.
"The problem was that I didn't recognize myself anymore."
That sentence seemed to break something inside him.
"What did I turn you into?"
"A woman who checked locks three times."
His face tightened.
"A woman who flinched when your phone rang."
He said nothing.
"A woman who couldn't tell whether you were protecting her or controlling her."
Aleandro lowered his eyes.
"I deserved that."
"I didn't come here to punish you."
"I know."
"I came because people are using me."
"I know."
"And if we're going to survive this, you need to trust me."
He nodded.
"Then I will."
It was the simplest promise he'd ever made.
Hours later, Marco returned.
"Rossi was seen."
Aleandro looked up sharply.
"Where?"
"Brooklyn."
We drove there with two cars.
Elena was hiding in a small apartment above an old bakery.
When the door opened, a terrified woman stood behind it.
She looked at me.
Then at Aleandro.
Then she began crying.
"You."
I froze.
"You were there."
Aleandro stepped between us.
"Tell me everything."
Elena shook her head.
"I can't."
"Someone will kill you."
"They already killed him."
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"Ask Emma."
The room went silent.
My pulse jumped.
"What do you mean?"
"That night... you heard us."
"Who?"
"Rafael."
Aleandro's face became stone.
"DeLuca?"
Elena nodded.
"He was the one who ordered the informant killed."
"And the ledger?"
"He stole it."
"Why?"
"Because it contains evidence against him."
Aleandro stepped forward.
"Then why frame me?"
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
"Because someone inside your family helped him."
Aleandro went still.
"Who?"
Elena whispered one name.
"Vincent."
The world seemed to stop.
Vincent had been with Aleandro for sixteen years.
His lieutenant.
His shadow.
His most trusted man.
Aleandro stared at Elena without blinking.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Why would Vincent betray me?"
"Because DeLuca promised him control."
"Of what?"
"Everything."
Aleandro looked at Marco.
"Where is Vincent?"
Marco's face paled.
"He's gone."
The betrayal landed harder than any bullet.
When we returned to the townhouse, Aleandro didn't speak for a long time.
He stood alone in the kitchen, staring into nothing.
I approached carefully.
"You trusted him."
"More than my own blood."
"I'm sorry."
"He saved my life."
"Maybe that's why it hurts."
He looked at me.
For a moment, the feared mafia boss disappeared.
All I saw was the man I'd loved.
"I don't know who to trust anymore."
I reached for his hand.
He stared down at our fingers.
Then he turned his palm upward.
He held mine.
Just that.
Nothing more.
No demands.
No possession.
No promises.
And somehow it meant more than everything he'd ever given me.
That night, while I slept in the guest room, Aleandro remained awake.
At 3:17 a.m., his phone rang.
He answered.
The voice on the other end said four words.
"Your girl is alive."
Aleandro sat upright.
"What?"
"Elena wasn't the only one who survived."
"Who?"
A pause.
Then the caller whispered a name.
"Your mother."
Aleandro's face went white.
May you like
His mother had been dead for eleven years.
Or so everyone believed.
