Chapter 2 - The Fortress
The Moretti estate was located on a heavily guarded private compound in upstate New York.
Massive iron gates swung open as our armored SUV approached the property.
I pressed my hand against the tinted window, staring at the intimidating stone mansion surrounded by armed men.
"This is not a home, it is a fortress," I whispered to myself, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
Ricardo heard me but chose to remain completely silent.
When we stepped inside the grand foyer, the sheer silence of the house was overwhelming.
Everything was made of cold marble, dark wood, and expensive leather.
There were no toys on the floor, no colorful pictures on the walls, and absolutely no signs that a child lived here.
"Leo's quarters are on the second floor in the east wing," Ricardo instructed, handing his coat to a silent butler.
"I will show you the way," Dante offered, stepping forward with surprising gentleness.
I followed the massive bodyguard up the sweeping staircase, clutching my small, damp canvas bag.
"Do not let his coldness scare you away, Clara," Dante whispered as we walked down the long, shadowed hallway.
"The boss has been a dead man walking since his wife passed away," he explained quietly.
I stopped walking and looked at the imposing security chief.
"How did she die?" I asked, needing to understand the trauma the little boy was carrying.
Dante looked away, his jaw clenching tight.
"That is a story for the boss to tell, not me," Dante replied cryptically.
We arrived at a set of heavy mahogany doors, and Dante slowly pushed them open.
Leo was sitting in the center of a massive, perfectly clean bedroom, tearing pages out of an expensive book.
His little face was red with frustration, and a team of exhausted maids was standing nervously in the corner.
"Everyone out," I announced loudly, stepping into the room.
The maids looked at Dante for confirmation, and he quickly nodded his head.
Once the room was empty, I dropped my bag on the floor and sat down cross-legged on the thick carpet.
Leo stopped tearing the book and stared at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.
"I don't really like reading that book either," I told him with a soft smile.
May you like
He dropped the torn pages, slowly crawled across the floor, and climbed directly into my lap.
I wrapped my arms around him, realizing this beautiful, broken child needed me just as much as I needed him.
