Chapter 3 - The Man in Blue
The gunshot cracked through the mansion like lightning.
Sophia screamed and pulled Emma against her chest.
The kitchen staff ducked instinctively. A tray of clean glasses fell from the counter and exploded across the stone floor.
Alessandro did not flinch.
“Marco,” he said.
Marco was already moving.
“West hallway,” he barked into his radio. “Lock down the estate. Nobody enters, nobody exits. Find the shooter.”
Three guards rushed toward the sound.
Alessandro turned to Sophia.
“Take Emma to the pantry. Stay low. Do not open the door unless Marco or I speak to you.”
Sophia shook her head, clutching Emma tighter.
“I don’t want to leave her.”
“You won’t,” Alessandro said. “You’ll keep her safe.”
For a moment, Sophia looked as if she wanted to argue.
Then she saw his face.
She carried Emma into the pantry and locked the door behind them.
Alessandro walked toward the service hallway with Marco beside him.
The air smelled of gunpowder.
At the far end of the corridor, a security guard lay on the floor with a shoulder wound. He was conscious, breathing hard, his uniform soaked with blood.
“Who did this?” Marco asked.
The guard coughed.
“Blue uniform,” he said. “One of ours.”
Alessandro knelt beside him.
“Did you see his face?”
The guard shook his head. “He had a cap. Came from the laundry stairs.”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
There were twelve men on the rotating security team.
All of them had passed background checks.
All of them had served under Marco.
Alessandro looked toward the security office at the end of the hall.
“Get the cameras.”
Marco’s expression changed.
“The cameras are down.”
“Since when?”
“Four minutes ago.”
Alessandro stood.
This was not a desperate act by a frightened traitor.
It was planned.
Someone had poisoned his coffee, placed the vial in the pantry, slipped a drawing into the kitchen, and fired a weapon to create confusion.
Someone wanted him looking in the wrong direction.
“Library,” Alessandro said.
Marco looked at him.
“Luca and Bianca?”
“Now.”
When they reached the library, Luca was already there, pacing in front of the fireplace with a glass of whiskey in hand. His dark hair was messy, his expression irritated rather than frightened.
“A gunshot before breakfast?” Luca said. “Your house has become dramatic.”
Alessandro stared at the glass.
“It’s nine in the morning.”
Luca shrugged. “It’s been a difficult week.”
Aunt Bianca sat near the window in a cream-colored robe, her face pale beneath perfect makeup.
“What is happening?” she asked. “The staff is whispering that someone tried to poison you.”
“Someone did,” Alessandro said.
Luca stopped pacing.
“You’re sure?”
“A child recognized the smell.”
Bianca’s eyes flickered.
“A child?”
“The daughter of one of the maids.”
Luca laughed once, short and humorless.
“So now we are trusting toddlers with security intelligence?”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“Be careful.”
Luca’s smile vanished.
The brothers stood facing each other in the dim library, surrounded by shelves of old books and portraits of dead Duca men who had ruled with fear long before Alessandro was born.
“You think I did this?” Luca asked.
“I think someone inside this house tried to kill me.”
“And naturally, I’m your first choice.”
“You arrived from Miami with debts you won’t explain. You’ve been asking questions about the construction division. You have met with people I told you not to meet.”
Luca’s eyes hardened.
“You mean I met with people who are afraid of you.”
“I mean criminals.”
“Same city. Different suits.”
Marco stepped between them slightly.
“Boss, we need to focus.”
Alessandro looked at Luca for another moment.
Then he turned away.
“Neither of you leaves the estate.”
Bianca rose from her chair.
“You cannot imprison family.”
“No,” Alessandro said. “But I can keep them close when someone is trying to murder me.”
He left them there.
In the security office, Marco pulled up the backup system.
The main cameras had been disabled, but a secondary network recorded only motion alerts. The footage was grainy and soundless.
At 8:42 a.m., Danny entered the kitchen.
At 8:44, he left for the cold room.
At 8:45, a figure in a dark-blue security uniform entered through the service door.
The figure moved quickly toward the espresso machine.
Then the screen glitched.
At 8:46, the figure disappeared.
At 8:48, Emma wandered out of the laundry room.
At 8:49, Alessandro arrived.
Marco froze the image.
The intruder’s face was hidden by the brim of a cap.
But one detail was visible.
A silver ring on the right hand.
Large.
Square.
With a black stone.
Alessandro stared at it.
He had seen that ring before.
Not on a guard.
On someone who had sat at his dinner table two nights earlier.
“Zoom in,” he said.
The technician enhanced the image as much as possible.
The black stone held a faint engraving.
A stylized letter V.
Marco exhaled slowly.
“Vittorio Vescari.”
Alessandro’s oldest rival.
Vescari had controlled docks, warehouses, and black-market imports on the city’s south side for almost twenty years. His family had fought the Ducas since Alessandro’s father was alive.
But Vittorio had been invited to dinner only because Alessandro was trying to negotiate peace.
He had shaken Alessandro’s hand.
Shared wine with him.
Smiled at Bianca.
And worn that ring.
“Vescari has someone inside,” Marco said.
“Maybe,” Alessandro replied. “Or someone wants us to believe he does.”
Marco looked at him.
“You think this is bigger?”
“I think someone knew Emma would recognize the smell. Someone wanted her to speak.”
Marco frowned.
“Why?”
Alessandro thought of the child’s drawing.
Bad man in blue.
The nighttime visitor.
Sophia’s dead husband.
The books, money, names.
“This was not only about killing me,” Alessandro said. “It was about making sure I started digging.”
At that moment, Dr. Russo entered the security office.
He was holding the preliminary lab report.
“The coffee contained a lethal sedative compound,” he said.
Sophia’s face appeared in Alessandro’s mind.
Mateo’s medicine.
Never woke up.
Dr. Russo continued. “It is not commonly prescribed. It can cause respiratory failure, especially when combined with caffeine or alcohol. The dose in your cup was enough to kill you.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“Can it be traced?”
“Possibly. But the compound is usually sourced through illegal medical channels.”
Marco cursed under his breath.
A radio crackled.
“Mr. Bellini,” a guard said. “We found a body.”
Marco’s head snapped up.
“Where?”
“Laundry stairwell.”
Alessandro and Marco ran.
At the bottom of the stairs lay one of the night guards, Paolo Rizzi.
He wore the blue security uniform.
The same kind shown in the camera footage.
A gun was beside his hand.
But the blood pooled beneath his back told a different story.
He had been shot from behind.
Someone had dressed him in the uniform.
Or he had been part of the plan—and someone had silenced him.
Alessandro crouched beside the body.
Paolo’s right hand was bare.
No ring.
But tucked into the pocket of his uniform was a small piece of folded paper.
Marco opened it carefully.
It contained only one sentence.
THE GIRL REMEMBERS WHAT HER FATHER SAW.
Alessandro’s gaze hardened.
“Bring Sophia and Emma to the safe room,” he ordered.
Marco nodded.
“You think they’re the target?”
“I think they already were.”
Alessandro looked down at the dead guard.
His house had been breached.
His coffee had been poisoned.
A child had uncovered a murder that had been hidden for two years.
And somewhere inside the estate, someone was still moving freely.
The question was no longer who wanted Alessandro Duca dead.
May you like
The question was why they were willing to kill a little girl to bury the truth.
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