Chapter 4

Two days later. The night of our eighth wedding anniversary.

The long table at the Moretti estate was covered in white roses flown in from abroad. Warm flames danced in the silver candelabras.

The chef had prepared the seafood risotto we'd eaten at the little Naples restaurant where we first met.

A slow vinyl record played on the gramophone.

Matteo had cleared all family accounts for the day. By four in the afternoon, he'd already changed into formal wear and was personally selecting the wine in the living room.

"Tonight, I'm not answering anyone's calls." He came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. His voice carried a lightness I hadn't heard in eight years. "Eight years, Elena. Every year from now on, let's spend it like this."

I looked at the two of us in the mirror and reached up to touch his cheek. "Okay."

The clock struck seven.

The maid had just set the steaming risotto on the table when the private encrypted phone on the mantel began vibrating wildly.

Matteo frowned, about to decline it. But when he saw the scrambled code on the screen, his expression changed instantly.

It was the emergency channel used exclusively by the bodyguards at Sofia's private estate.

He walked to the window and answered. After three seconds, his face went completely dark.

"Sir, the young master from the Castiglia family had an acute asthma attack at the stables. He's in shock!"

"Madam Sofia is hysterical. The private doctor hit a chain collision on the way. He can't get through!"

In the background, I could faintly hear a woman's sharp, anguished screams and a child's weak whimpering.

Matteo's knuckles went white around the phone. Veins bulged on his hand.

He turned sharply. His eyes churned with fierce conflict.

"Elena..."

He walked quickly back to the table, his voice tight and hoarse.

"There's a shootout at the east dock warehouse. Luca's been shot. Some of the old clan elders are making a move. I have to go put it down myself."

"Give me half an hour. No, forty minutes. I promise I'll be back in forty minutes."

He didn't even look at my face. He grabbed the coat off the back of the chair and rushed toward the door, his steps unsteady.

"Matteo." I sat at the end of the long table and called his name calmly.

He stopped. Turned his head.

"What is it, Elena?"

"You promised you'd spend tonight with me."

Deep guilt and anxiety flashed through Matteo's eyes.

He came back, cupped my face, and pressed a hard kiss to my lips.

"I swear, I'll come back as soon as I can. Wait for me, Elena."

He turned and rushed into the night, his footsteps hurried.

I sat in the candlelight, watching his silhouette disappear around the corner of the foyer. Very softly, I said:

"Goodbye, Matteo."

The black armored convoy screamed out of the carved iron gates, heading for the private estate where his twin sons were hidden.

The candles on the long table flickered.

I picked up my fork and slowly finished the last bite of risotto on my plate.

Then I stood, blew out every candle.

Three hours later. The private estate on the east side of the city.

Pine logs crackled in the fireplace. Expensive building blocks and toy trains were scattered across the carpet.

The so-called "acute asthma attack" had just been a child choking slightly on a gummy candy.

But Matteo hadn't left.

After confirming the child was fine, he'd taken off his formal Don suit. In just his white shirt, he sat on the thick Persian rug, letting two toddlers who looked strikingly like him climb all over his lap, laughing and playing.

Until his phone rang. A subordinate's voice came through, stammering:

"Mr. Moretti, something's happened..."

"The coastal highway... a major accident at the third curve!"

"The missus's car lost control and went off the cliff into the sea... It exploded... By the time rescue got there, no one in the car had survived..."