Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW OF MORETTI ESTATEThe next morning, Elena learned that wealth could be louder than poverty even when nobody spoke.
Staff opened curtains before she touched them.
Breakfast arrived without ordering.
A doctor checked her back.
A seamstress measured her while Elena protested.
“No.”
The woman froze.
“No?”
“I have clothes.”
Dante, standing near the doorway, looked at the garment rack.
“You have three shirts.”
“They are functional shirts.”
“One has bleach marks.”
“Character.”
Matteo giggled.
Dante looked at his son.
“You encourage her.”
“Yes.”
Elena liked Matteo immediately.
That was dangerous.
Children made temporary situations emotionally permanent.
After breakfast, Dante explained the threat.
Isabella’s family had spent years negotiating a merger of shipping routes with Moretti holdings.
If completed, it would consolidate ports, warehouses and customs access.
Money.
Influence.
Power.
“Why would she attack Matteo?”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“Matteo inherits control of a voting trust if I die.”
“That still doesn't explain killing him first.”
“The Vances wanted a marriage.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“If Isabella became my wife and we had children, Matteo would remain first beneficiary.”
Elena stared.
“So your son is an obstacle to hypothetical future children?”
“In the minds of people who treat family like corporate architecture.”
Elena looked toward Matteo playing on the rug.
“That's disgusting.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you still negotiating with them?”
Dante did not answer.
That answer disappointed her.
“You knew they were dangerous.”
“I knew Harrison was ruthless.”
“But you kept them close.”
“For stability.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“Rich people have fascinating definitions.”
“What?”
“Stability.”
Dante looked at her.
She continued:
“Poor people call stability keeping the lights on.”
“You call it making deals with people you don't trust.”
He did not argue.
That surprised her.
Later, Elena asked for her phone.
A staff member gave it back.
Thirty-one missed calls.
Her diner manager.
Landlord.
Aurelios employees.
Michael.
Her ex-fiancé.
She froze.
Dante noticed.
“Who?”
“None of your business.”
“Michael Grant?”
Her face snapped toward him.
“You investigated me.”
“Yes.”
“That isn't normal.”
“Neither is taking forty-two pieces of glass for my child.”
“You don't get ownership because I got hurt.”
Silence.
Dante became very still.
“I didn't say ownership.”
“You act it.”
That struck something.
He looked away first.
Good.
Matteo entered carrying paper and crayons.
“Draw with me.”
Elena smiled.
“Sure.”
She sat carefully.
Matteo drew three stick figures.
Papa.
Matteo.
Elena.
She stared.
“Where’s your mom?”
The room changed.
Matteo looked toward Dante.
Dante answered quietly.
“She died.”
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“I’m sorry.”
“Three years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Matteo corrected:
“Bad men.”
Elena looked at Dante.
His face went cold.
Not accident.
Another secret.
Matteo returned to drawing.
Dante said:
“We'll discuss it later.”
Elena wanted to say no more secrets.
But she had been inside the house one day.
She had no right.
Except danger apparently had already given her rights nobody asked whether she wanted.
That evening, someone placed a small envelope beneath Elena’s bedroom door.
No name.
Inside:
A photograph of Matteo’s mother.
Beside Dante.
Beside Isabella.
All three smiling.
On the back:
ASK HIM WHO REALLY CAUSED SOFIA’S DEATH.
Elena stared.
Then another object slid from the envelope.
A tiny piece of cut steel cable.
Her heartbeat stopped.
May you like
Someone inside Moretti Estate had delivered it.
Which meant the threat had followed her home.
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