Chapter 4 - THE SHADOW IN THE DOORWAYBefore Vincenzo could speak, the private elevator chimed softly.
The heavy brass doors slid open, and an elegant, silver-haired older man stepped into the office. He wore an impeccably tailored navy suit, carried himself with the effortless grace of true aristocracy, and was flanked by three armed enforcers who treated him like royalty.
It was Salvatore Russo.
The uncle who had raised Vincenzo after his parents were brutally murdered. The man who held half the voting shares in the family's shipping empire.
Salvatore walked casually across the Persian rug, his polite smile masking eyes as cold as winter glass. "Vincenzo, my boy, I wanted to discuss the docks—"
He stopped mid-sentence as his gaze landed on me standing beside the desk, clutching a dust rag.
Vincenzo quickly slid the photograph face down beneath a stack of papers, his body shielding it from view. But it was too late. Salvatore had already seen my face.
"Who is this?" Salvatore asked, his smooth voice carrying a subtle, razor-sharp edge.
Vincenzo straightened up, his tone dropping into a dangerous register. "She's just a cleaner, Uncle. Nothing more."
Salvatore took a slow step toward me, tilting his head as if trying to place a distant memory. Then, his eyes widened slightly as he looked at my cheekbones, my eyes, the stubborn set of my jaw.
"Marino," Salvatore murmured, tasting the name on his tongue like a bad wine. "That's an old, dead name in this city."
He looked back at Vincenzo, his smile vanishing entirely. "Why is Antonio Marino’s daughter standing in your private office, Vincenzo?"
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The temperature in the room plummeted below freezing. In that single, terrifying second, I realized the truth: Salvatore hadn't merely heard of my father.
He knew exactly what had happened to him twenty years ago. And looking at the way Salvatore’s hand hovered near his coat pocket, I knew he planned to make sure I disappeared the exact same way.
