Chapter 2 - The Smile Marco Couldn’t Hide
Marco Ricci did not answer immediately.
For ten years, I had watched him stare down men with guns in their hands and blood in their eyes. I had seen him negotiate with Russian smugglers, bury friends without shedding a tear, and walk into rooms where everyone else expected death.
But when I asked how long he had known Maria Alvarez, Marco looked afraid.
Not of me.
Of the answer.
“Mr. Moretti,” Maria whispered, her fingers tightening around Sophia’s shoulders, “please. Marco has done nothing wrong.”
That made it worse.
I leaned back in my chair and looked from Maria to Marco.
“Then he can answer.”
Marco’s jaw tightened. “Three months.”
“Three months,” I repeated.
Maria shut her eyes.
Sophia, still sitting in the oversized chair beside my desk, looked between us with the serious attention of a child who knew something bad was happening but did not understand why.
“How?” I asked.
Marco looked at Maria, and that quiet look returned to his face. The one I had noticed before. The one that made something cold tighten in my chest.
“Her sister’s building had a fire,” Marco said. “Maria and Sophia were staying there for two nights. I was handling security for the neighborhood fundraiser across the street.”
Maria shook her head quickly. “He only helped us find a hotel room. That’s all.”
Marco gave a small, humorless smile.
“That’s not all,” he said.
Maria’s face flushed.
I watched every movement in the room. In my world, people lied with words, but the truth often appeared in their hands. Marco’s hands were still. Maria’s hands trembled. That told me they were both hiding something.
“Continue,” I said.
Marco exhaled slowly. “I’ve been helping Maria since then. She didn’t want charity. She didn’t want money. But Sophia needed clothes for school. Maria’s sister needed medication. I made arrangements.”
“You made arrangements,” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
Marco’s eyes met mine.
“No.”
The room fell silent.
Sophia slid off the chair and walked over to Maria. She wrapped both arms around her mother’s leg.
“Is Uncle Marco in trouble?” she asked.
Maria looked down at her daughter, then at Marco.
Nobody answered.
Sophia’s lower lip trembled.
I had known men who could smell fear like wolves smelled blood. But nothing in my life had prepared me for the sight of a three-year-old girl trying not to cry because she thought she had caused trouble.
I looked at Marco.
“Get out.”
Marco did not move.
“Boss—”
“Get. Out.”
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Resignation.
He gave Maria one last look, then walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.
Maria immediately stepped forward.
“Please don’t punish him,” she said. “He was kind to us. That’s all he was.”
“Kindness is expensive in my business.”
“He didn’t ask for anything.”
“That is not what concerns me.”
Maria stared at me, confused and frightened.
I stood, walked around the desk, and crouched beside Sophia.
“What time is Family Day tomorrow?” I asked.
Sophia looked up at me through wet lashes.
“Ten.”
“Then I’ll be there at nine-thirty.”
Her whole face changed.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“And normal clothes?”
I almost smiled again.
“Normal clothes.”
Sophia considered this promise as if she were a lawyer reviewing a contract.
“Okay,” she said. “But no scary car.”
I looked toward the windows, where three black armored SUVs waited in the driveway.
“No scary car.”
She nodded, satisfied.
Maria looked like she might cry.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“I gave my word.”
She lowered her gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
“Call me Luca.”
She looked up sharply.
Nobody called me Luca anymore.
Not since my father died and left me with an empire, a name, and enemies who believed softness was weakness.
But Sophia smiled.
“Okay, Luca,” she said.
And for a moment, I remembered what it felt like to be someone other than the man everyone feared.
That feeling lasted exactly seven minutes.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from my head of security.
Marco Ricci has left the estate. He is not following his usual route.
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
He is meeting someone in Queens.
I looked through the glass doors toward the driveway, where Maria was helping Sophia into a staff shuttle.
Something told me that tomorrow was not going to be a simple day at preschool.
Something told me Marco’s connection to Maria was only the beginning.
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And something inside me—something older than loyalty, older than trust—was already warning me that the man I had called brother for ten years might be preparing to betray me.
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