Chapter 4 - The Ghost of Vittorio Montesi
By noon, the mansion had become a fortress.
Black SUVs lined the circular drive. Cameras were checked, gates reinforced, staff questioned. Every person who had entered the house during the last month was reviewed by Nico’s security team.
Dario watched it all from his office with Mila’s crayon drawing taped to the edge of his desk.
It showed a giant man in a black suit standing beside a tiny girl with purple hair.
Above them, in crooked letters, she had written:
ME AND DARIO
He had not corrected her.
Nico entered just after three.
“We found Sofia’s old storage unit,” he said. “There were boxes, medical papers, photos, and a phone.”
“Anything useful?”
“The phone was wiped. But there was a hidden compartment in one of the boxes.”
Nico placed a small digital recorder on the desk.
Dario looked at it for a long moment.
“Who else has heard it?”
“Only me.”
“Play it.”
Static filled the room.
Then Sofia’s voice came through—weak, frightened, but unmistakable.
“If you are hearing this,” she said, “then I was too late.”
Dario closed his eyes.
“I didn’t tell you about Mila because I thought I could keep her safe by staying away from you. I was wrong. The danger was never you, Dario. It was your father.”
Dario’s hand flattened against the desk.
“Vittorio knew I was pregnant,” Sofia continued. “He found out before I left Chicago. He told me he would make Mila disappear if I ever came near you. He said your mother knew what he had done, and that was why she died.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Dario’s mother.
His father.
All those years.
“He said your mother tried to take you away from him,” Sofia whispered on the recording. “She found records. Payments. Names. She was going to the police. Your father ordered the crash. I have proof, but I don’t know where to take it. If something happens to me, look for Father Salvatore. He kept copies because he was afraid.”
The recording ended.
Dario stood perfectly still.
Nico did not speak.
Outside, a helicopter passed somewhere above the city, its distant blades chopping through the afternoon sky.
“My father has been dead for nine years,” Dario said at last.
“Yes.”
“But the people who carried out his orders are still alive.”
“Yes.”
Dario looked at the family portrait above the fireplace.
Vittorio Montesi stared down from the frame, immaculate in a dark suit, one hand resting on fourteen-year-old Dario’s shoulder. His father had always smelled of leather and expensive cologne. His father had always spoken softly before he became violent.
Dario crossed the room.
With one violent motion, he tore the portrait from the wall.
The glass shattered across the floor.
At that exact moment, an alarm began to scream.
Nico reached for his weapon.
“What is it?” Dario demanded.
“East gate breach,” a voice crackled through Nico’s earpiece. “Possible intruder.”
Dario’s blood ran cold.
“Mila.”
He was already moving before Nico answered.
They ran through the corridors, past stunned staff, up the staircase two steps at a time. Dario reached Mila’s room with his gun drawn.
The door was open.
The bed was empty.
For one impossible second, he could not understand what he was seeing.
Then he heard a small sound from the closet.
A whimper.
He dropped to his knees and pulled open the door.
Mila was inside, hugging Mr. Buttons, her face pressed into Elena’s apron. Elena sat on the floor beside her, shaking.
“What happened?” Dario asked.
“A man got inside,” Elena whispered. “He came through the garden. Security stopped him near the greenhouse.”
Mila looked at Dario.
“Is he gonna take me?”
The question hit him harder than any bullet.
Dario holstered his weapon and reached for her.
She hesitated only a second before climbing into his arms.
He held her close, breathing in the scent of shampoo and baby soap.
“No one is taking you,” he said.
“But Mama said bad men know where I am.”
His eyes met Nico’s over her shoulder.
That was no longer a theory.
Someone knew.
Someone had been watching.
Nico’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, and his face went hard.
“Who is it?” Dario asked.
Nico put the call on speaker.
A distorted male voice filled the room.
“Mr. Montesi,” the voice said. “You have something that belongs to us.”
Dario held Mila tighter.
“You have the wrong number.”
“No,” the man said. “I have the right house. Your father left unfinished business. The Bellini girl was part of it. Now the child is part of it too.”
Dario’s voice became dangerously calm. “Say her name again.”
A pause.
Then the voice laughed.
“You can’t protect her forever.”
The line went dead.
Mila was trembling against Dario’s chest.
He pressed his lips to the top of her head.
For years, Dario had believed fear was a tool. Something to use. Something to control.
Now he understood its other form.
Fear was loving someone so much that the thought of losing them made the world unrecognizable.
He looked at Nico.
“Find Father Salvatore,” Dario said.
Nico nodded.
“And find the man who called.”
Dario’s gaze returned to Mila.
May you like
“Bring them both to me.”
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