Chapter 11 - THE DISCOVERY
I burst into Alessandro’s study, clutching the photograph. He was standing over his desk, arguing with three of his captains, but the moment he saw my face, he silenced them with a raised hand.
"Out," Alessandro commanded. The captains scrambled out of the room instantly.
Alessandro crossed the room in three strides, catching my arms as I swayed on my feet. "Clara, what is it? What’s wrong?"
I couldn't speak. I just shoved the photograph against his chest.
Alessandro took it. I watched his eyes scan the image of Emma, saw him read the red threat on the back. The transformation in him was terrifying. The gentle husband vanished, replaced by the apex predator who had conquered Milan. The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.
"Matteo," Alessandro snarled, his voice a demonic rumble. "He dares to threaten my daughter."
"Alessandro, they were watching her," I cried, grabbing his lapels. "They were right outside the gates! We aren't safe here!"
"You are safe," Alessandro swore, pulling me tight against him. "I will burn this city to the ground before I let anyone touch her."
"How did they get so close?" I demanded, tears spilling over. "You doubled the guards!"
Alessandro pulled back, his eyes narrowing as his brilliant mind processed the tactical failure. "The only angle to take this photograph is from the East Gate. That gate is locked and manned by two guards at all times. The courier couldn't have taken it. The lens angle is from inside the perimeter wall."
He looked at me, the horrific realization dawning on both of us.
"The photographer was already inside," I whispered.
"We have a traitor," Alessandro said coldly. "Someone in the household took this picture and smuggled it out."
He grabbed his phone off the desk. "Daniel. Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves. Not the guards, not the maids, not the chefs. Bring every member of the staff to the courtyard. Now."
Ten minutes later, I stood beside Alessandro on the grand balcony overlooking the internal courtyard. Below us, sixty members of the household staff and security detail stood in nervous silence.
Alessandro didn't yell. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, projecting an aura of absolute, lethal authority.
"Someone in this house," Alessandro spoke, his voice echoing off the stone walls, "took a photograph of my daughter and delivered it to my enemies. You have one minute to confess. If you step forward, I will make your death quick. If I have to find you, I will make it last for days."
Silence. Terrified, deafening silence.
I scanned the faces below. I knew these people. I had worked alongside them for two years. Maria, the cook. Giorgio, the gardener. Could one of them really betray us?
As my eyes moved over the crowd, they stopped on a young security guard named Luca—no relation to my husband. He was sweating profusely, his eyes darting toward the side gate.
But it wasn't his nervous sweat that caught my attention. It was his wrist.
Underneath the cuff of his uniform, I saw a flash of silver. A very distinct, heavy silver watch with a cracked face.
I gasped, grabbing Alessandro’s arm. "Alessandro. Look at the guard in the back left. The one sweating."
Alessandro followed my gaze. "What about him?"
"His watch," I whispered fiercely. "That’s David’s watch. The one he was wearing the night he died. The police told me it was destroyed in the fire."
Alessandro’s eyes went dark. If the guard had David’s watch, he wasn't just a traitor working for Matteo. He was one of the men who had murdered my husband two years ago.
Alessandro didn't hesitate. He leaned over the balcony rail and pointed directly at the guard.
May you like
"Take him," Alessandro ordered.
The guard panicked. He shoved Maria out of the way, drawing his weapon, and bolted toward the service exit.
