Chapter 1 - The Stitched ConfessionThe heavy silence in Villa Moretti’s grand hall was heavy enough to choke on. Twelve mafia bosses, men whose signatures decided who lived or died across northern Italy, stared in absolute shock. Alessandro Moretti, a man notorious for his ruthless execution of traitors, was kneeling on cold marble, staring intently at a child’s worn-out stuffed animal.
“Where did she get this rabbit?” Alessandro repeated, his voice dropping an octave lower, carrying a razor-sharp edge that made the seasoned capos shift uncomfortably in their seats.
I scooped Emma up into my arms, pressing her face into my shoulder, my heart hammering against my ribs. “I made it for her,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound steady. “From an old jacket I bought at a flea market two years ago. Why?”
Alessandro rose slowly to his full height. His piercing grey eyes locked onto mine. The symbol stitched into the ear—a stylized crow holding a broken dagger—was not random embroidery. It was the exclusive, highly classified crest of the Corvo Syndicate, a splinter faction operating deep within the Moretti empire, leaking our operational data to the international federal task force.
“You bought the jacket at a flea market?” Alessandro asked, stepping closer. The twelve families watched with bated breath, whispering among themselves.
“Yes,” I answered, shielding Emma. “In the old docks district. A dead man’s estate sale, or so the vendor claimed. The coat was ruined, but the wool was soft. I thought Emma deserved something nice.”
Alessandro pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen with lethal speed. He brought up a high-resolution digital blueprint of the Corvo Syndicate's crest. He held the screen next to the blue rabbit.
The match was absolute down to the last thread.
“Vivian,” Alessandro whispered without turning around.
His fiancée flinched, stepping back until her back hit a marble pillar. “Yes, Alessandro?”
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“Where were you three nights ago when the shipment at Pier 4 was ambushed?”
The blood drained entirely from Vivian’s face. The diamond necklace around her throat suddenly looked like a shackle.
