Chapter 4 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Victor Vitali had taught Lorenzo everything he knew about survival.
He had also taught him never to trust a man who died too conveniently.
Victor had supposedly been killed in a car explosion two years earlier.
There had been a body.
Dental records.
A funeral.
A sealed coffin.
Lorenzo had attended.
Now Matteo was telling him the man was alive.
"Where is he?"
"We don't know."
"Then find him."
"We're trying."
Lorenzo ended the call.
Clara stood near the window.
"You think Victor knows about Rosie?"
"I think he knows more than anyone."
"Why?"
"Because the hospital payment came from his account."
Clara looked frightened.
"Was he the man threatening you?"
"Maybe."
"And Rosie?"
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"Maybe he wanted her."
Clara moved instinctively toward the hallway.
Lorenzo caught the movement.
"She's safe."
"You can't promise that."
"I can."
"You can't."
He looked directly at her.
"Nobody touches my daughter."
The words came naturally.
My daughter.
Clara heard them.
So did he.
Something changed between them.
For the first time, they weren't two people connected by a painful past.
They were parents.
And someone had endangered their child.
That changed the rules.
The next morning, Lorenzo moved Clara and Rosie into the secure wing of the estate.
Clara objected.
"I don't need a cage."
"It's not a cage."
"It has cameras."
"Security."
"Armed guards."
"Security."
"One man follows me every time I walk to the kitchen."
"That's because you're important."
"I'm a baker."
"You're the mother of my child."
She stared at him.
He realized how possessive it sounded.
He softened.
"I'm not trying to control you."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Trying to make up for three years in three days."
Clara's expression softened.
"You can't."
"I know."
For once, he didn't argue.
Rosie, meanwhile, adapted immediately.
She loved the mansion.
She loved the fountain.
She loved the dogs.
Most of all, she loved ordering Matteo around.
"Mr. Mustache."
Matteo looked offended.
"I don't have a mustache."
"You should."
"Why?"
"You look angry."
Lorenzo nearly choked on his coffee.
Clara covered her mouth.
Rosie smiled.
The mansion had not heard laughter like that in years.
For a few days, they almost felt normal.
Then Rosie disappeared.
It happened in the middle of the afternoon.
Clara had been baking downstairs.
Lorenzo was in a meeting.
A guard looked away for less than thirty seconds.
Rosie was gone.
The estate exploded into motion.
Doors locked.
Cars searched.
Guards ran through gardens.
Clara nearly collapsed.
Lorenzo found her standing in the center of the hallway, shaking.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know."
"I'll find her."
"Lorenzo—"
"I will find her."
His voice was terrifying.
But this time it wasn't anger.
It was fear.
They found Rosie twenty minutes later in the old greenhouse.
She was sitting beside a man.
An old man.
White hair.
Dark coat.
Victor Vitali.
Lorenzo stopped.
Victor smiled.
"Hello, nephew."
Guards raised their weapons.
Lorenzo lifted one hand.
"Lower them."
Victor looked at Rosie.
"She's beautiful."
Lorenzo stepped between them.
"You stay away from my daughter."
Victor laughed softly.
"Your daughter?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
Victor's eyes moved to Clara.
"You finally know."
Clara stepped forward.
"You knew about her."
"I knew everything."
"Why?"
Victor's smile disappeared.
"Because your father owed me a debt."
Clara went pale.
"My father?"
Victor nodded.
"Rosie was never the target."
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
"Then who was?"
Victor looked at him.
May you like
"You."
And before anyone could react, a gunshot shattered the greenhouse windows.
