Chapter 10 - THE AFTERMATH
One week later.
The transition from housekeeper to the Don’s wife was something I was still trying to navigate. The staff treated me with a fearful reverence that made my skin itch. I didn't want them to bow their heads when I walked past; I just wanted them to smile.
"You are overthinking it, mia cara," Alessandro said, wrapping his arms around me from behind as I stood on the balcony overlooking the manicured gardens.
"They look at me like I'm going to order their executions if they burn the toast," I sighed, leaning back into his solid chest.
"They respect you," Alessandro corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple. "They know you survived Ricci. They know you hold my heart. In our world, that makes you the most powerful woman in Milan."
"But we aren't in 'that world' anymore, are we?" I asked, turning to face him.
Alessandro’s expression softened, but a shadow flickered in his dark eyes. "The illegal operations are closed. The businesses are legitimate. But power leaves a vacuum, Clara. And there are always rats in the walls looking to feed."
He was right. Taking down Don Ricci had sent shockwaves through the Italian underworld. While the majority of the families had sworn fealty to Alessandro’s new, legitimate regime, whispers of dissent still echoed in the dark corners of the city.
"Is there something you aren't telling me?" I asked, searching his face.
Alessandro hesitated, a rare occurrence. He sighed, taking my hand. "We received intel this morning. Ricci’s nephew, Matteo, has returned to Milan from Sicily. He was fiercely loyal to the old ways. He believes I stole his uncle’s throne."
A cold dread coiled in my stomach. "Is he dangerous?"
"He is reckless," Alessandro corrected. "And reckless men make mistakes. I have doubled the security perimeter. You and Emma are not to leave the villa grounds without me. Understand?"
I nodded, squeezing his hand. "I understand."
But the peace of our honeymoon phase was officially over. The reality of being married to Alessandro Moretti was settling in.
Later that afternoon, I was in the grand library, reading a book while Emma played with her dolls on the rug. The heavy oak doors opened, and Daniel, Alessandro’s head of security, stepped in. His face was grim.
"Signora Moretti," Daniel said respectfully with a slight bow. "A package arrived for you at the front gate. The guards scanned it. No explosives, no chemicals. But… the boss is in a meeting, and I thought you should see it."
He handed me a small, plain cardboard box.
I placed my book down, my heart rate accelerating. I carefully cut the tape and opened the flaps.
Inside, resting on a bed of shredded newspaper, was a single, pure white lily. Its petals were bruised and slightly withered.
And tucked beneath the flower was a photograph.
I pulled it out, and the blood drained entirely from my face.
It was a picture of Emma, taken through the iron gates of the villa just yesterday as she played in the garden. Drawn over her face in thick, red marker was a crude, jagged X.
"Daniel," I whispered, my voice trembling with raw terror. "Where did this come from?"
"A courier dropped it off, ma'am. He didn't know who sent it," Daniel replied, his jaw tight with anger.
I looked at the back of the photograph. There were three words scrawled in red ink.
May you like
Blood for blood.
They weren't just angry about the syndicate. They were targeting my child.
