Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
Within thirty minutes, Elena and Mia were moved out of the cramped staff quarters above the garage and escorted into the opulent master guest suite on the top floor of the main mansion.
The suite was vast, decorated in warm cream and gold tones, featuring a plush king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton, a private balcony overlooking the misty Atlantic Ocean, and an adjoining playroom filled with freshly unpacked velvet toys, coloring books, and stuffed animals that had been rushed up by the estate staff.
Mia was sitting on the center of the plush rug, happily coloring a picture of a bear, entirely oblivious to the war of nerves waging inside her mother's chest.
Elena stood by the tall glass doors, her hands clutching her elbows as she stared out at the sprawling Long Island estate. Eight months ago, she had taken this housekeeping job under a fake background check, desperate to feed her daughter after her deadbeat ex-husband abandoned them with mountains of debt. She had deliberately chosen the Moretti estate because it was known as the most secure, unapproachable place in the state—a fortress where no debt collectors or street thugs would dare linger.
She had believed she was invisible here.
A quiet knock sounded at the heavy oak doors, and Aleandro stepped inside.
He had changed out of his ruined suit into a dark charcoal sweater and black trousers. Without his formal jacket, he looked less like an underworld king and more like a predator at rest. He carried a silver tray containing two cups of fresh tea and a small plate of chocolate chip cookies for Mia.
"She likes chocolate," Aleandro remarked quietly, setting the tray down on the marble coffee table.
Mia’s head popped up instantly. "Cookies?"
"Yes, little one," Aleandro said. A faint, rare smile touched the corner of his stern lips as he gestured to the plate. "They are for you."
Mia looked at her mother for permission. Elena gave a weak, breathless nod, still terrified. Mia scrambled over, grabbed a cookie, and beamed up at the mob boss. "Thank you, Mister."
"Call me Aleandro," he replied softly.
He turned his attention back to Elena, gesturing toward the leather armchair across from the sofa. "Sit, Elena. We have much to talk about."
Elena sat on the very edge of the cushion, her knees locked together. "Mr. Moretti, I don't understand. My father was a quiet accountant. He ran a small tax firm in Brooklyn before he died in a car crash twenty years ago."
Aleandro leaned back in his chair, his long legs crossed, his gray eyes darkening with distant memories.
"Your father was not just an accountant, Elena," Aleandro said calmly. "Julian Rossi was my father’s most trusted consigliere. He managed the legal and financial reserves of the entire Moretti network. Twenty years ago, when I was twelve years old, a rival syndicate—the Donati family—staged a violent ambush at our boat house in Montauk."
Elena’s eyes widened. "A boathouse?"
"They wanted my father’s ledgers, and they wanted me as collateral," Aleandro continued, his voice dropping an octave. "My father was shot in the initial breach. Your father, Julian, grabbed me, threw me into a reinforced hidden storm cellar beneath the floorboards, and locked the steel door from the outside. He took the ledgers and ran into the woods, drawing all the Donati gunmen away from my location."
Aleandro paused, taking a slow breath.
"They caught him three miles down the road," Aleandro said grimly. "Julian died keeping my location secret. He saved my life, but in the chaos that followed, the traitor in our own ranks erased your family’s records to keep us from finding his widow and child. We searched for years, assuming Julian’s family had been wiped out."
Elena covered her mouth with her trembling hands, tears spilling over her lashes. All her life, she had believed her father was an ordinary man who died in a senseless highway accident. She had no idea he was a hero who died protecting a scared twelve-year-old boy.
"The silver locket," Elena whispered, touching her collarbone. "He gave it to my mother the night before he died."
"It carries the coat of arms of the original Rossi family line," Aleandro said softly, standing up and walking over to where she sat. He stopped inches from her chair, looking down at her with a protective intensity that made her pulse race. "Your father died serving my family, Elena. That means the Moretti empire owes you a debt that can never fully be repaid."
"I don't want money, Mr. Moretti," Elena choked out. "I just want my daughter to be safe."
May you like
Aleandro reached down, his broad, warm hand gently cupping her chin, forcing her to look up into his dark, fierce eyes.
"You don't have to clean floors anymore, Elena," he swore, his voice like solid steel. "As long as I draw breath, no one will ever harm you or Mia again. You are under my personal protection."
