Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Shadows
Night came swiftly, cloaking the Hudson Valley in thick fog.
Leo had eaten two bowls of pasta for dinner, drank another glass of warm milk, and fallen asleep before I could finish the third page of his storybook. For the first time, his brow wasn't furrowed in sleep. His small hand lay open, relaxed, palm up against the pillow.
I tucked the blankets around his shoulders, left the nightlight on in the shape of a golden star, and stepped out into the quiet corridor.
I was parched. The estate was so massive that reaching the kitchen felt like navigating a medieval castle. I descended the back service stairs, keeping my footsteps light.
As I neared the lower hallway that led to Ricardo's executive wing, voices drifted through the heavy oak doors.
"The Rossi family is pushing the perimeter at the docks, Ricardo," a rough, abrasive voice said. "They know Elena’s death left us vulnerable with the Sicilian council. If you don't take a wife from their bloodline soon, they’ll call for a vote of no confidence."
I froze near the corner, pressed against the cold wainscoting.
"The Sicilian council can choke on their votes, Vincent," Ricardo's voice responded, smooth, lethal, and colder than ice. "The docks belong to the Morettis. If Antonio Rossi puts one foot over the terminal line, send him back to Brooklyn in pieces."
"And the boy?" the man named Vincent pressed. "Sofia Rossi has made it clear she is willing to raise Leo. A political marriage solidifies both territories. It stops a war."
"Sofia Rossi wouldn't cross the street to piss on my son if he were on fire," Ricardo snarled, the velvet dropping from his tone to reveal pure steel. "She wants my name, my treasury, and my seat at the table. If she touches Leo, I will bury her entire lineage."
"Then who takes care of the heir? That waitress you pulled off the street?" Vincent's voice was dripping with venomous mockery. "She’s a nobody, Ricardo. A civilian with dead eyes and a broken sob story. She could be an informant for the Feds. She could be a plant from Chicago."
My breath caught in my throat.
"Clara Bennett lost her daughter to leukemia," Ricardo said softly. The sudden tenderness in his voice when he spoke my name sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "She spent two years watching a machine beep until it stopped. She knows what life is worth. You don't."
"She’s a liability."
"She made my son laugh today, Vincent." Ricardo's chair scraped against the hardwood. "You've worked for me for twelve years. Have you ever made Leo smile?"
Silence hung heavy in the room.
"Watch your tongue when you speak of her," Ricardo warned, his voice low and dangerous. "If a single hair on Clara Bennett's head is harmed while she is in this house, I won't ask who gave the order. I will simply kill everyone in the room."
I backed away quietly, my heart pounding like a trapped bird against my ribs.
I was standing in the middle of a war zone. The man who had hired me was a monster to the rest of the world, a killer who traded in blood and territory. Yet he had defended me to his deadliest lieutenant.
As I turned to head back to the stairs, a heavy hand grabbed my forearm.
I nearly screamed, but a rough palm clamped over my mouth before sound could escape.
I was pulled into the shadow of an arched alcove. Vincent stood over me, his scarred face twisted into an ugly, triumphant smirk. His breath smelled of bourbon and cheap cigars.
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"Eavesdropping on family business, little bird?" he whispered into my ear. "In this family, women who listen too closely end up without ears."
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