Chapter 14 - The Preschool StakeoutBeing an undercover mob boss is one thing. Being a civilian parent at a high-end Austin Montessori preschool is an entirely different level of psychological warfare.
I sat on a tiny, brightly colored plastic chair that threatened to snap under my weight, holding a miniature cup of imaginary tea offered by a three-year-old wearing fairy wings.
“Drink it, Uncle Tom!” Maya demanded with severe authority. “It has strawberry sprinkles!”
“It’s delicious, sweetie,” I replied with absolute seriousness, taking a sip from the empty plastic cup while three other children stared at me in wide-eyed awe.
Across the classroom, a mother in designer workout gear whispered frantically to another parent, her eyes darting nervously in my direction. Word had gotten around about Thomas Moretti—the quiet, intense man who drove a convoy of black Escalades and personally dropped off his niece every morning. Nobody knew exactly what I did for a living, but the local neighborhood association had unanimously voted to never, under any circumstances, cut me off in the school parking lot.
Just then, the classroom door swung open, and the director walked in, followed by a tall, elegant woman with sharp features and a kind smile.
It was Dr. Elena Vance—no relation to the disgraced senator, but a renowned child psychologist I had hired specifically to help Leo and Maya process their trauma.
She caught my eye and walked over, crouching down beside my tiny chair.
“Mr. Moretti,” Elena said quietly, keeping her voice low so the children wouldn't interrupt her tea party. “I had another session with Leo this morning.”
My posture instantly stiffened, the casual mobster demeanor vanishing. “And? How is he?”
“He’s making progress, Thomas. He drew a picture of his old house today—specifically the basement door. But instead of drawing locks on it, he drew a massive guard dog with your face.”
I couldn't help the small, ironic smirk that touched my lips. “A guard dog with my face?”
“Terrifying, but effective,” Elena smiled gently. “He’s starting to realize that he’s safe. He knows you're the monster guarding the gate now. But we still have work to do on his separation anxiety. He panics the moment you leave his sight for more than an hour.”
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I looked over at Maya, who was now carefully placing a plastic tiara on my head.
“He won't have to worry about that,” I said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
