Chapter 6 - THE MAN IN SEAT 4F
The passenger manifest showed no Vittorio Moretti.
That did not mean he had not been onboard.
It only meant a man powerful enough to hide money, people, and crimes had also hidden his seat.
Enzo contacted the airline.
Marco contacted airport police.
Alessandro called someone whose name I never heard.
Within an hour, they identified the passenger in 4F.
His passport belonged to a seventy-one-year-old retired accountant named Pietro Mancini.
Pietro Mancini had died nine months earlier.
I stared at the photograph taken by an airport camera.
The man looked ordinary.
Silver hair.
Round glasses.
Dark coat.
He could have been somebody's grandfather.
Alessandro stood beside me.
“My uncle.”
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he follow you instead of just coming to your house?”
“Because he wanted to observe.”
“What?”
“Luca.”
My stomach tightened.
“And me.”
His jaw hardened.
“Apparently.”
I thought about the entire flight.
The crying.
The bottles.
My walk through the curtain.
The silence after Luca latched.
Someone had watched all of it.
“What does your uncle want?”
“I don't know.”
“That answer is becoming irritating.”
“It irritates me more.”
“Try harder.”
Enzo looked offended on his behalf.
Alessandro did not.
“My grandfather built our family's organization.”
“Not the businesses.”
“The other part.”
“The mafia.”
“Yes.”
“At least we're saying it now.”
He continued.
“My father took control after him.”
“Vittorio was the younger brother.”
“So your uncle wanted control.”
“He had it after my father died.”
“Until you came along.”
“Until I took it from him.”
“Why?”
“Because under Vittorio, people disappeared.”
“Businesses were burned.”
“Families were threatened.”
I stared at him.
“And under you?”
He met my eyes.
“Fewer people disappeared.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
I crossed my arms.
“What does Luca have to do with any of it?”
“In families like mine, blood becomes symbolism.”
I hated that answer immediately.
“If I die, Luca becomes the heir to things I never wanted him to inherit.”
“He's five months old.”
“To sane people, that matters.”
“And Vittorio isn't sane.”
“No.”
“So killing Luca would—”
I could not finish.
Maya was upstairs.
I suddenly wanted her in my arms.
Alessandro read my face.
“He will not touch your daughter.”
“You cannot promise me that.”
“No.”
His honesty terrified me more than reassurance would have.
“So what can you promise?”
“That I will not use you or Maya as bait.”
“That I will not hide information that affects your safety.”
“And that no violence happens around my daughter.”
He hesitated.
“Alessandro.”
“I can promise I will do everything possible.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“If guns start appearing in hallways, we leave.”
“If your men threaten people in front of her, we leave.”
“If I discover you're using us to find Vittorio, we leave.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
“Agreed.”
“Say it.”
“I agree.”
“Good.”
A small voice spoke from the doorway.
“Mommy?”
I turned immediately.
Maya stood barefoot in pink pajamas.
“Hey.”
I opened my arms.
She ran into them.
“I had a bad dream.”
I lifted her.
“Want to tell me?”
She shook her head.
Then she noticed Alessandro.
“Where's the baby?”
“Sleeping.”
“Did he cry?”
“Not yet.”
Maya looked pleased.
“Mommy fixed him.”
Alessandro looked at me.
“Your mother helped him.”
Maya rested her head against my shoulder.
“My mommy fixes babies.”
The sentence cut straight through me.
I had not been a nurse since Maya was born.
Derek told people I quit because motherhood changed my priorities.
The truth was uglier.
After the Keene case, I became afraid of hospitals.
Afraid of administrators.
Afraid of seeing monitors that nobody listened to.
Afraid of being blamed again.
Derek had encouraged the fear because a dependent wife was easier to control.
Maya touched my cheek.
“Why are you sad?”
“I’m not.”
“You have sad eyes.”
Alessandro looked away to give me privacy.
I kissed Maya’s nose.
“I’m just tired.”
“Can I sleep with you?”
“Always.”
We went upstairs.
That night, Maya slept against my ribs.
I did not.
At 1:38 a.m., Luca began crying.
The sound travelled through the corridor.
I waited.
A minute passed.
Then another.
His cries sharpened.
I climbed out of bed.
When I reached the nursery, Alessandro was already there.
He stood beside the crib looking exhausted.
A fresh bottle rested on the table.
Luca turned his head away every time Alessandro offered it.
“He still won't take it.”
“Don't force him.”
“I’m not.”
I washed my hands.
“Let me hold him.”
Alessandro passed him to me.
Luca immediately rooted against my shirt.
My milk responded almost painfully.
I closed my eyes.
“This cannot be the long-term solution.”
“I know.”
“You need a lactation consultant.”
“I called one.”
“Good.”
“She'll be here tomorrow.”
I sat.
Alessandro turned toward the door.
“You can stay.”
He stopped.
“You told me before that he should know I’m here.”
“Yes.”
He sat opposite us.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Luca fed.
His tiny hand opened against my chest.
Alessandro watched him.
“Was Sofia afraid of you?”
The question left my mouth before I could stop it.
His eyes lifted.
“Sometimes.”
I appreciated the answer.
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Threaten her?”
“No.”
“Control her?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
I looked down at Luca.
“How?”
“Security.”
“Where she went.”
“Who she met.”
“Who drove her.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“I know.”
My gaze snapped up.
“What do you mean?”
“I watched you check the window three times while telling Maya goodnight.”
“You moved a chair against your bedroom door even though there is a lock.”
“And when Enzo entered the kitchen too quickly, you stepped between him and your daughter without thinking.”
Heat crawled across my skin.
“You watch too much.”
“So did Sofia.”
“What happened?”
“She told me protection without freedom was another kind of prison.”
“Was she right?”
“Yes.”
The answer came instantly.
“Did you change?”
“Too late.”
Luca stopped feeding.
I shifted him gently.
Alessandro looked toward the window.
“Sofia asked me to leave this life.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I believed leaving would make us vulnerable.”
“And now?”
“My wife is dead.”
“My son was drugged.”
“My uncle followed us across an ocean.”
He looked at me.
“So perhaps Sofia was wiser than I was.”
I handed Luca back.
Alessandro settled him against his chest.
For a moment, the feared mafia boss looked like nothing more than a grieving father at two in the morning.
Then his phone lit up.
One message.
No sender.
He read it.
Every trace of softness disappeared.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward me.
The message contained a single photograph.
Maya.
Sleeping.
In my bedroom.
Taken through the window less than one minute earlier.
Beneath it were four words.
YOU CANNOT PROTECT BOTH.
My blood froze.
An alarm exploded through the house.
Enzo shouted downstairs.
Lights flooded the gardens.
Men ran toward the terrace.
I grabbed Luca from Alessandro without thinking.
He pulled a handgun from behind his back.
I stared at it.
Our agreement had lasted less than one day.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Maya is across the hall.”
I ran.
I reached my bedroom.
The bed was empty.
For one terrible second, the entire world disappeared.
Then I heard Maya scream from the balcony.
“Mommy!”
I turned.
The balcony door stood open.
May you like
A shadow moved beyond the curtains.
And somebody was carrying my daughter.
