Chapter 7 - THE LAST ROMANO WHO WANTED REVENGE
Emma had gotten out of bed for water.
That was all.
Elena slept in the carriage-house apartment.
Emma had spent the evening in the main estate because she refused to leave until Aleandro finished reading her a book about a rabbit that hated bedtime.
She fell asleep halfway through.
Elena told Aleandro to let her rest in the guest room.
At 12:17 a.m., Emma woke thirsty.
She opened the door.
Bare feet on the hallway rug.
A stuffed rabbit under one arm.
Matteo Romano stepped around the corner.
He stopped.
Emma stopped.
Matteo was forty-one.
Vittorio’s only son.
Aleandro’s cousin.
Raised beside him.
Fought beside him.
A man who once took a knife across the shoulder for Aleandro in a parking garage when they were twenty-two.
Now he looked like someone Aleandro barely knew.
Emma recognized him.
“Mr. Matteo.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“You know me?”
“You eat cake.”
He almost laughed.
Emma pointed.
“Kitchen.”
Matteo had visited two weeks before the arrest.
He ate cannoli at the kitchen island.
Emma remembered.
Children remembered ordinary things while adults remembered power.
Matteo crouched.
“Where is Aleandro?”
Emma pointed toward the study.
“Working.”
Of course.
Matteo looked toward the corridor.
Then at the little girl.
He had entered through an old service passage.
One Vittorio had taught him.
He carried a pistol beneath his coat.
He had intended to confront Aleandro.
Maybe kill him.
Maybe force him to withdraw testimony.
He was not entirely sure.
Rage had gotten him through the gate.
Then a three-year-old ruined the shape of the night.
Emma held out her rabbit.
“He sick.”
Matteo stared.
“What?”
“Mr. Aleandro doctor.”
Matteo almost laughed again.
Then footsteps sounded.
Aleandro.
He appeared at the end of the hallway.
Saw Emma.
Saw Matteo.
Saw the shape beneath Matteo’s coat.
Everything inside him hardened.
“Emma.”
She turned.
“Come here.”
Matteo’s hand moved.
Aleandro saw it.
He did not reach for his own weapon.
Not with Emma between them.
“Little one.”
Emma looked confused.
Aleandro smiled.
“Remember the kitchen game?”
She nodded.
There had never been a kitchen game.
“Go find Mama and tell her I want the purple spoon.”
Emma frowned.
No purple spoon.
Then Elena’s voice came faintly from the guest room.
“Emma?”
The child turned.
“Go.”
Emma ran.
Matteo watched her disappear.
Aleandro’s expression changed immediately.
“What are you doing here?”
Matteo pulled the gun.
Aleandro stayed still.
“You destroyed my father.”
“Your father murdered mine.”
“He raised you.”
“He stole from me.”
“He protected the family.”
“He kidnapped a child.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Aleandro stared.
“You knew?”
“I knew he wanted the ledger.”
“You knew about Emma?”
“No.”
“Would it matter?”
Matteo’s silence answered.
Aleandro stepped closer.
The gun remained raised.
“You came to kill me?”
“I came to stop you.”
“From what?”
“Giving everything away.”
Aleandro frowned.
“Our people are scared.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
Aleandro almost smiled.
“That’s not new.”
“No.”
Matteo shook his head.
“They’re scared you’re changing the rules.”
There it was.
Not grief for Vittorio.
Not justice.
Fear of losing a system.
“What rules?”
“No police.”
Aleandro said nothing.
“No internal records handed over.”
Matteo continued.
“No apologizing to servants.”
Aleandro’s expression hardened.
Matteo laughed bitterly.
“You think they respect you more now?”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s the problem!”
Matteo’s voice echoed.
“You’re turning into something our fathers would hate.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“My father was murdered by the rules you’re defending.”
Matteo flinched.
Aleandro saw it.
“Your father killed him.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“The medication logs do.”
“My father said Francesco was going to destroy everything.”
“He was going to expose theft.”
“He was weak.”
That sentence changed Aleandro’s face.
Matteo continued.
“He cared too much about workers.”
Aleandro stared at his cousin.
Then understood.
The disease had passed down.
Not murder.
Belief.
That anyone beneath them existed only to support the family.
That care was weakness.
That fear was order.
That silence was loyalty.
Aleandro looked toward the corridor where Emma had disappeared.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“My father was becoming better.”
Matteo laughed.
“And you think a maid and her kid made you better?”
Maybe.
Aleandro did not say it.
The truth felt too private.
Instead:
“They made me look.”
Matteo’s grip tightened.
“You’re choosing them over blood.”
“No.”
Aleandro stepped closer.
“I’m choosing right over blood.”
Matteo’s eyes filled with rage.
“You sound like a priest.”
“Put the gun down.”
“No.”
“Emma is twenty feet away.”
“I’m not going to hurt the kid.”
“You already brought a gun into the house where she sleeps.”
Matteo’s face tightened.
Footsteps sounded downstairs.
Security had noticed the breach.
Matteo looked toward the stairs.
Then back at Aleandro.
“You called them?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I don’t need to.”
Matteo raised the gun higher.
Aleandro’s voice stayed calm.
“You shoot me, you don’t leave.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Matteo’s eyes shone.
For the first time, Aleandro saw it.
Grief.
Not just anger.
A son losing his father.
No matter what Vittorio had done, Matteo still loved him.
Aleandro understood that pain.
That was what made it dangerous.
“I lost my father too.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Don’t.”
“I know exactly what it is to wake up and realize the man who shaped your life is gone.”
“Shut up.”
“And I know what it is to find out the story you were told was wrong.”
Matteo’s hand shook.
“Stop.”
“You don’t have to become him.”
Matteo fired.
The bullet hit the wall beside Aleandro.
Security rushed the hallway.
Weapons raised.
Matteo froze.
Aleandro remained standing.
“Drop it.”
Matteo looked around.
Then toward the guest room.
Emma was peeking from behind Elena’s leg.
Elena immediately covered her eyes.
Matteo saw.
His face changed.
The gun lowered.
Then fell.
Security tackled him anyway.
Aleandro raised a hand.
“Enough.”
They pulled Matteo up.
He was crying.
Quietly.
Angrily.
Aleandro looked at him.
“Why didn’t you shoot me?”
Matteo laughed bitterly.
“I did.”
“No.”
Aleandro looked at the bullet hole.
“You chose the wall.”
Matteo stared.
Aleandro continued.
“You still have one choice left.”
“What?”
“Don’t make your father’s worst act your inheritance.”
Matteo was taken away.
Elena approached.
Emma clung to her.
“You all right?”
Aleandro asked.
Elena looked at the bullet hole.
“No.”
Honest.
“Emma?”
The child pointed.
“Wall broke.”
Aleandro almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“I fix?”
His chest tightened.
“No.”
Emma frowned.
“I have needle.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Aleandro crouched.
“No more fixing things adults break.”
Emma considered.
“Never?”
“Never.”
She thought.
Then held out her stuffed rabbit.
“He still sick.”
Aleandro smiled.
“That I can handle.”
Months passed.
Vittorio’s trial began.
Lucia testified.
Matteo took a plea agreement after the shooting and agreed to cooperate.
The family was furious.
Then divided.
Then quieter.
Aleandro removed men connected to Vittorio’s theft.
Some left peacefully.
Others did not.
But the empire did not collapse.
In fact, the legitimate businesses strengthened.
The hotels.
Restaurants.
Construction firms.
Transportation.
Aleandro began shifting more of his energy there.
Not because he became innocent overnight.
He knew what he was.
But because a three-year-old had somehow made blood on a fingertip feel more urgent than blood in the streets.
Elena noticed.
One evening she found him in the library without a jacket.
Emma asleep across his chest.
A children’s book open in one hand.
Elena leaned against the doorway.
“She likes you.”
Aleandro looked down.
“She has poor judgment.”
Elena smiled.
“She used to be scared of this house.”
He knew.
“Now?”
“She asks if she can visit.”
Aleandro’s chest tightened.
“Good.”
Elena watched him.
“You don’t have to keep proving anything to us.”
“I’m not.”
“What are you doing?”
He looked at Emma.
“Trying not to become a man she has to hide from.”
Elena’s expression softened.
Then Aleandro said something that surprised even him.
“Stay.”
Elena froze.
“She’s asleep.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Stay here.”
Silence.
“In the estate?”
“In my life.”
Elena stared.
Aleandro immediately looked uncomfortable.
He was excellent at threats.
Negotiation.
Orders.
This was none of those.
“I don’t know how to say this well.”
“That’s obvious.”
He almost smiled.
Elena stepped closer.
“You are my employer.”
“I can fix that.”
“By firing me?”
“If necessary.”
She laughed softly.
“What exactly are you asking?”
Aleandro looked at Emma.
Then at Elena.
“I’m asking if eventually… when you are not afraid of the answer… you might let me take you to dinner.”
Elena stared.
“A normal dinner?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“No guards at the table.”
“Possible.”
“No men standing outside the restaurant?”
“Unlikely.”
She laughed.
Aleandro smiled.
A real one.
Then Elena’s face softened.
“Eventually.”
He nodded.
That was enough.
For now.
May you like
Because after everything that house had done to people through pressure, Aleandro Romano had no intention of making love another thing someone owed him.
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