Chapter 2 - THE MARK UNDER THE EAR
For several seconds, nobody answered Alessandro.
His fingers remained beneath the folded ear of Emma’s rabbit.
The symbol stitched into the blue wool looked simple at first glance—three black lines forming a narrow crown around a tiny cross.
But every man in the great hall reacted as though Alessandro had just uncovered a bomb.
I pulled Emma closer.
“What does it mean?”
Alessandro stood slowly.
His expression had become unreadable.
“Where did your daughter get this?”
“My husband gave it to her.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Vivian stopped breathing.
I noticed.
So did Alessandro.
His eyes moved toward her for less than a second before returning to me.
“What was your husband’s name?”
“Daniel Bennett.”
Don Ricci’s glass hit the table.
Not hard.
But hard enough.
Alessandro turned.
“You know that name.”
Ricci looked older suddenly.
“I knew a Daniel Bennett.”
My skin went cold.
“He was American?”
“Yes.”
“He worked as an architectural consultant in northern Italy?”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
Ricci stood.
“Then your husband wasn’t who you thought he was.”
The room became unbearably quiet.
I stared at him.
“My husband designed hotels.”
“No,” Alessandro said.
His voice was careful now.
“Your husband designed access.”
I looked from him to Ricci.
“I don’t understand.”
Alessandro held out his hand.
“May I see the rabbit?”
Emma hugged it tighter.
“No.”
A few men around the table almost smiled.
Alessandro did not.
“That’s fair.”
He knelt again.
“Can your mother look underneath Mr. Bunny’s ear?”
Emma considered this.
Then nodded.
I unfolded the fabric.
The mark had been hidden beneath the seam for years.
I had washed that rabbit dozens of times.
Sewn one leg twice.
Replaced an eye after Emma chewed it as a baby.
I had never seen the symbol.
Alessandro pointed without touching.
“That mark belonged to a private network inside my father’s organization.”
“Network?”
“Men responsible for protecting safe houses, financial records, family routes.”
My stomach tightened.
“Daniel worked for your father?”
“He may have.”
Vivian spoke.
“This is ridiculous.”
Everyone looked at her.
She gave a nervous laugh.
“A child’s toy has some old embroidery, and suddenly the maid’s dead husband was a secret operative?”
“Vivian,” Alessandro said softly.
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
Her face changed.
Not humiliation this time.
Fear.
I saw it clearly.
Alessandro handed his wineglass to a guard.
“Seal the villa.”
Twelve families erupted at once.
“You cannot lock us in here.”
“My men have outside obligations.”
“This is an insult.”
Alessandro lifted one hand.
Silence returned.
“Someone brought a protected mark into my house through a dead man’s child.”
His eyes traveled around the room.
“Until I know why, nobody leaves.”
Emma tugged my dress.
“Mommy, I’m hungry.”
That one little sentence almost broke me.
Crime families.
Secret marks.
My dead husband.
None of it mattered to Emma.
She wanted dinner.
“I’ll take her to the kitchen.”
Alessandro looked toward his security chief.
“Marco.”
A tall man near the staircase stepped forward.
“Stay with them.”
“I don’t need a guard.”
“Yes,” Alessandro said.
“You do.”
Vivian laughed under her breath.
“Of course she does.”
Alessandro turned.
“What was that?”
Vivian smiled.
“Nothing.”
“Good.”
Marco led Emma and me away.
We were halfway through the corridor when Alessandro called after me.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
I turned.
“Don’t let anyone take that rabbit.”
Vivian’s eyes went directly to the toy.
That frightened me more than the order.
The service kitchen was nearly empty.
Emma sat at the counter eating bread and cheese while Marco stood near the door.
I stared at the blue rabbit on her lap.
Daniel had bought it in Florence three weeks before Emma was born.
At least, that was the story he told me.
He had come home carrying the toy in brown paper.
“For our little girl,” he said.
I remembered laughing because it looked handmade and crooked.
Emma loved it from birth.
Now I wondered whether Daniel had known exactly what he was placing beside our daughter.
“Marco.”
He looked at me.
“What did Daniel really do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
“It isn’t.”
“You recognized the mark.”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
He hesitated.
“Someone carrying that symbol could enter places other men couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“It meant the person had the trust of Alessandro’s father.”
“His father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
Daniel died two years ago.
My pulse accelerated.
“Then why would my husband still have the symbol after Moretti’s father died?”
Marco didn’t answer.
Emma interrupted.
“Mommy.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Bunny has paper.”
I froze.
“What?”
She was squeezing the rabbit’s stomach.
“It’s crunchy.”
Marco was across the room in two steps.
“Don’t tear it.”
Emma frowned.
“It’s mine.”
“I know.”
I took the rabbit gently.
There was something inside.
Not stuffing.
Something flat.
I found an old seam under the left arm.
The thread was different.
Newer.
Daniel had stitched the rabbit himself once after Emma threw up on it during a flight.
Or at least I thought that was why.
Marco handed me a small knife.
I cut three stitches.
A thin strip of waterproof paper slid into my hand.
Numbers.
Names.
Dates.
One word repeated six times.
VERONA.
At the bottom was a handwritten sentence.
I knew Daniel’s handwriting immediately.
If I die, do not trust the man who calls Alessandro brother.
Marco read it over my shoulder.
His face changed.
“Who calls Alessandro brother?”
I whispered.
Marco didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Everyone in Milan knew the answer.
Alessandro Moretti had no biological brother.
But there was one man he had called brother since childhood.
Matteo Romano.
Vivian’s older brother.
And Alessandro’s closest friend.
I looked toward the kitchen doors.
Footsteps approached.
Marco moved in front of Emma.
The doors opened.
Matteo Romano walked in smiling.
“Clara Bennett.”
My blood went cold.
I had never told him my first name.
Yet he spoke it as if he had known me for years.
May you like
Then his eyes dropped to the open seam in Emma’s rabbit.
And his smile disappeared.
