Chapter 2 - The Mansion Went Dark Seconds Before the First Bullet Was FiredThe first gunshot shattered the chandelier.
Glass exploded across the marble floor.
I grabbed Sofia and pulled her behind the stone pillar.
“Down!”
My guards returned fire.
The darkness became chaos.
Someone screamed.
A bullet struck the wall inches from my head.
I fired toward the staircase.
Another shot answered.
Then silence.
“Search the house!”
My men moved.
I held Sofia against my chest.
She wasn't crying.
That frightened me more.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
Then she pointed toward the kitchen.
“Uncle Marco went that way.”
I looked.
Marco was gone.
I immediately understood.
The attack had been a distraction.
He wasn't trying to kill me yet.
He was trying to get somewhere.
My father's study.
I ran.
We reached the second floor.
The study door was open.
Inside, the safe stood exposed.
Someone had entered it.
I checked the combination.
Untouched.
But the compartment beneath it was open.
Empty.
My father's secret documents were gone.
Except one.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It showed my father standing beside a young woman.
Sofia's mother.
My heart stopped.
On the back was a date.
Thirty-one years ago.
And four words.
SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH.
Behind me, Sofia whispered:
“That's Mommy.”
I turned.
“Your mother?”
She nodded.
I stared at the photograph.
I remembered her.
Barely.
A young woman who used to visit my father when I was a teenager.
Her name was Elena Carter.
She disappeared years ago.
I thought she had died.
Apparently not.
And apparently she had a daughter.
A daughter who knew exactly what someone inside my mansion was planning.
Then one of my guards rushed in.
“Boss!”
“What?”
“We found Marco's car.”
“Where?”
“Outside the east gate.”
“Is he inside?”
“No.”
I looked at the photograph.
Marco had disappeared.
The safe had been opened.
And Sofia's mother had known my father.
None of it was coincidence.
I turned toward the guard.
“Find Elena Carter.”
He hesitated.
“Alive or—”
“Alive.”
I looked at Sofia.
“Whatever it takes.”
Then she tugged my sleeve.
“Uncle Alessandro?”
“Yes?”
“Mommy said not to trust the man with the scar.”
I froze.
Marco had a scar.
But so did half the men in my organization.
“Which man?”
She touched her own cheek.
“Here.”
I understood.
A scar across the right cheek.
Only one man fit that description.
May you like
My chief security officer.
Luca Ferraro.
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