Chapter 2 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN LORENZO’S DRAWER
Lorenzo Moretti remained on one knee.
That alone was enough to make six armed men forget how to breathe.
Mia still held his finger.
Her tiny hand wrapped around one of the same hands that had signed contracts worth millions, ordered men removed from his organization, and once broken another man’s jaw without changing expression.
Now Lorenzo looked at a three-year-old girl as if she were the most dangerous thing he had ever encountered.
“Daddy,” Mia repeated.
Elena grabbed her gently.
“Mia, sweetheart, no. Mr. Moretti isn’t—”
“Wait.”
Lorenzo said the word quietly.
Elena stopped.
He studied Mia’s face again.
Her brown curls were Elena’s.
Her small mouth too.
But the eyes—
Elena knew what he was seeing.
Blue-gray.
Unusual.
Exactly like his.
Lorenzo lifted one hand toward Mia’s cheek but stopped before touching her.
“How old is she?”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“Three.”
“When did she turn three?”
“April.”
His eyes moved to hers.
“What day?”
She looked around the room.
Six men.
Six witnesses.
This was not how she had imagined the truth coming out.
Not that she had ever intended for it to come out.
“April seventeenth.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
Barely.
But Elena saw it.
He remembered.
Of course he did.
Three years and nine months earlier.
A storm in Manhattan.
A hotel.
A night Elena had spent years convincing herself had belonged to another life.
One of Lorenzo’s men cleared his throat.
“Boss, should we—”
“Everyone out.”
No one moved for perhaps half a second.
Then chairs scraped back.
Lorenzo’s captain, Marco Bellini, gave Elena one unreadable look before heading for the door.
Within seconds, only Lorenzo, Elena, and Mia remained.
Mia had already lost interest in the tension.
She touched Lorenzo’s watch.
“Pretty.”
He stared at her little finger on the metal.
“Thank you.”
Elena almost laughed from nerves.
She had never heard Lorenzo Moretti thank a toddler.
“Mia,” Elena whispered. “Come with Mommy.”
Mia shook her head.
“No.”
“Mia.”
“He sad.”
Elena went still.
Lorenzo did too.
Mia pointed at him.
“His eyes sad.”
Lorenzo looked away first.
Elena pulled her daughter gently against her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Neither was your question.”
His gaze sharpened.
The Lorenzo everyone feared returned instantly.
“Do not play games with me, Elena.”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me why your daughter just called me Daddy.”
“She calls men that sometimes.”
It was a terrible lie.
Lorenzo knew immediately.
“How many?”
Elena said nothing.
“How many men has she called Daddy?”
“None.”
Silence.
Lorenzo stood.
He suddenly seemed enormous again.
Mia looked up at him.
He looked at Elena.
“Who was her father?”
Elena swallowed.
“My husband.”
“Name.”
“Thomas Voss.”
“Was he her biological father?”
The question landed precisely.
Elena tightened her hold on Mia.
“He raised her.”
“That was not my question.”
“He loved her.”
“Elena.”
“He died.”
“Answer me.”
Mia looked between them.
“Mommy scared.”
Lorenzo’s face shifted.
His voice softened immediately.
“I’m not going to hurt your mother.”
Mia considered him.
“Promise?”
Elena almost stopped breathing.
Promises meant little in Lorenzo’s world.
Everyone knew that.
Deals mattered.
Leverage mattered.
Consequences mattered.
Promises were for ordinary people.
Lorenzo crouched again.
“I promise.”
Mia smiled.
“Okay.”
Elena stared at him.
Something inside her cracked.
She had spent three years believing Lorenzo Moretti could never be allowed near Mia.
Now he had just given her daughter the kind of promise no one in his own organization would dare ask from him.
Lorenzo stood again.
“Marco.”
The library door opened almost instantly.
Marco had clearly been standing outside.
“Yes, Boss?”
“Take Mia to the kitchen.”
Elena tightened her arms.
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“I need to speak with you.”
“She stays with me.”
Marco looked nervous.
Nobody refused Lorenzo like that.
Lorenzo only said, “Fine.”
Then he looked at Mia.
“Would you like chocolate milk?”
Mia’s eyes widened.
“Yes.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Traitor.
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“Marco will get it.”
Mia slipped from Elena’s arms.
Elena caught her.
“Mia.”
“Chocolate.”
“I know, but—”
“I’ll have Mrs. Caruso stay with her.”
That mattered.
Mrs. Caruso was sixty-eight and had worked in the mansion for decades.
Elena trusted her.
Reluctantly, she let Mia go.
Before leaving, Mia ran back to Lorenzo.
She grabbed his hand.
“Come too.”
The room became still again.
Lorenzo stared down.
“Soon.”
“Promise?”
His mouth tightened.
“Yes.”
Mia left.
The door closed.
Lorenzo did not speak for several seconds.
Then he walked behind his desk.
He opened the bottom drawer.
Elena knew instinctively that whatever came next would destroy the life she had built.
He removed a photograph.
He slid it across the desk.
Elena looked down.
Her knees weakened.
It was her.
Three years and nine months earlier.
Standing beneath the awning of the Bellagio Hotel.
Wet hair.
Black dress.
Lorenzo beside her.
He was not smiling.
But he was looking at Elena the way no one had ever looked at her before.
She had forgotten the picture existed.
“Where did you get that?”
“You left it in my car.”
“No.”
“The hotel photographer gave guests copies. You dropped yours.”
Elena picked it up.
She remembered the night.
She had been working catering at a charity event.
Lorenzo had attended under heavy security.
She had accidentally spilled champagne on his sleeve.
Instead of firing her, he had laughed.
Actually laughed.
Later, after the gala ended, rain trapped them under the hotel awning.
They talked.
For hours.
He never told her exactly who he was.
She knew only that he was Lorenzo.
Dangerous-looking.
Lonely.
Unexpectedly funny.
One night became two days.
Then Elena discovered his last name.
Moretti.
She disappeared.
Three weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant.
She never contacted him.
Lorenzo watched her.
“How long after that night did you meet Thomas?”
“Four months.”
His eyes hardened.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“He knew Mia wasn’t his.”
Lorenzo’s face became unreadable.
“And he married you anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he loved me.”
The answer hurt Lorenzo.
She saw it.
“He loved Mia too,” Elena continued. “From before she was born.”
Lorenzo turned away.
“Did he know my name?”
“No.”
That was another lie.
Lorenzo sensed it.
He spun around.
“Stop lying.”
Elena flinched.
He immediately lowered his voice.
“Stop.”
“I was protecting her.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
There.
The truth.
Lorenzo stared.
“Why?”
“Because when I learned who you were, I looked you up.”
He laughed once without humor.
“And?”
“I found killings. Arrests. Missing men. Explosions.”
“Most of those stories were exaggerated.”
“Some weren’t.”
“No.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“I was pregnant.”
“I would never have hurt you.”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“You could have asked.”
“You were Lorenzo Moretti.”
“And that meant I didn’t deserve to know I had a child?”
Elena looked away.
His voice cracked slightly.
“My daughter.”
He said it quietly.
Almost to himself.
Elena closed her eyes.
Lorenzo stepped back.
He looked stunned.
Not angry.
Wounded.
“You knew for three years.”
“Yes.”
“You lived ten miles from me.”
“Yes.”
“You brought her into my house for six months.”
“I needed work.”
“You let me walk past her.”
Elena’s tears fell.
“I was scared.”
“So you let another man raise my child.”
“Don’t do that.”
His eyes flashed.
“Do what?”
“Make Thomas the villain.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“Thomas saved us.”
Lorenzo went still.
“He took me in when I had nothing. He put his name on Mia’s birth certificate. He stayed awake with her when she had colic. He carried her around the apartment for hours because she wouldn’t sleep.”
Her voice broke.
“He was her father in every way that mattered.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“Then how did he die?”
Elena stopped.
There it was.
The second secret.
The one even more dangerous than Mia’s paternity.
Lorenzo noticed instantly.
“How did Thomas die?”
“Car accident.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“When?”
“Eleven months ago.”
Lorenzo walked toward his desk.
He picked up his phone.
“Marco.”
Elena’s stomach twisted.
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
She shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if you investigate Thomas’s death, they’ll know.”
“Who?”
She said nothing.
Lorenzo’s expression became cold.
“Elena.”
Her lips trembled.
“Thomas found out someone was looking for Mia.”
Every muscle in Lorenzo’s body tightened.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they want?”
“He thought they knew who her biological father was.”
Lorenzo went completely still.
Elena whispered, “Thomas didn’t die in an accident.”
Silence.
“He was murdered.”
Lorenzo’s face changed into something Elena had never seen.
Not fury.
Something far more controlled.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“What happened?”
“They lost evidence. Witnesses changed their stories.”
Lorenzo looked toward the library door.
Mia was somewhere beyond it drinking chocolate milk.
His daughter.
A daughter he had not known existed.
A child someone had already killed to get closer to.
He pressed the button on his desk.
“Lock the estate.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
“What are you doing?”
“Protecting my daughter.”
“You promised not to hurt us.”
He looked at her.
“I’m not locking you in.”
“Then what?”
“I’m locking everyone else out.”
The gates began closing outside.
Steel.
Guards.
Cameras activating.
Lorenzo walked around the desk.
“From this moment forward, Mia does not leave this property without me, you, or Marco.”
“You can’t decide that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“You kept her from me because you believed I was dangerous.”
“Yes.”
His eyes hardened.
“Tonight, you told me someone murdered the man raising my child because of me.”
Elena swallowed.
“I don’t know that for sure.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because only a handful of people knew about that hotel weekend.”
Elena stared.
“Who?”
“My driver.”
He counted.
“My old attorney.”
Another.
“My brother.”
Elena’s face changed.
Lorenzo saw it.
“What?”
She took one step backward.
“Thomas said something before he died.”
“What?”
“He told me if anything happened to him, I should never trust someone named Adriano.”
The room seemed to lose air.
Lorenzo’s younger brother was named Adriano Moretti.
He had been missing for almost four years.
Officially, everyone believed he had fled to Europe after stealing from the family.
Lorenzo had spent years trying to find him.
Elena looked terrified.
“Who is Adriano?”
Lorenzo stared toward the closed gates of his estate.
“My brother.”
May you like
And somewhere deep beneath the mansion, an old security alarm began to ring.
Someone had just entered the property using an access code that belonged to a man who was supposed to be dead.
