Chapter 2 - The Alibi of the Dead ManInside the sterile, blindingly white VIP medical suite on the top floor of Moretti-funded Mercy General, the heart monitor emitted a steady, rhythmic beep-beep-beep.
Lia’s eyes fluttered open around 3:00 AM. Her fever had broken, thanks to the high-grade antipyretics pumped into her veins by a private physician who dared not ask questions. Sitting in a leather armchair in the corner, his sleeves rolled up and his tie discarded, Dominic watched her every breath.
Nora sat on a stool near the edge of the bed, nervously wringing her hands. She had refused to leave until she saw Lia open her eyes.
"Daddy?" Lia whispered, her throat dry.
"I'm here, baby. I'm right here." Dominic leaned over, pressing his lips against her damp forehead. "Who gave you that bracelet?"
Lia whimpered, her tiny fingers clutching the silver band around her wrist—the one with the intricate black rose clasp that Dominic had never seen before. "The... the man with the bird on his neck. He said... he said you sent him to pick me up from school. He gave me candy, but it tasted funny, Daddy. Everything got dark."
Dominic's jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He looked across the room at Matteo, who stood by the door with a tablet displaying security feeds and police scanner logs.
"Matteo," Dominic said softly. "The Santoro crew. Who is running the dock operation tonight?"
"Vinnie 'The Blade' Santoro," Matteo replied, his face grim. "Except... Dominic, that’s impossible. Vinnie’s body was fished out of the Delaware River three days ago. We left him for dead after the warehouse hit on Front Street."
Dominic stood up, pacing the length of the luxury suite like a caged panther. "Dead men don't put black-rose bracelets on my daughter's wrist. Dig him up if we have to. Find out who’s wearing Vinnie’s skin."
Just then, Nora stood up quietly, grabbing her wet jacket from the chair. "I should go. The diner opens at six, and my shift manager is a tyrant. Besides, she’s safe now. You don't need me here."
"Wait," Dominic said, his voice halting her at the door. He walked over, unbuttoning his expensive custom cashmere overcoat, and draped it over her shoulders before she could protest. It swallowed her frame, smelling faintly of expensive tobacco, leather, and cedar. "You're not taking the bus at this hour. Luca will drive you."
"Mr. Moretti, I can walk—"
"It wasn't a request, Nora," Dominic interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "You saved my daughter's life. In my world, that makes you a creditor. And I always pay my debts."
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As Nora stepped into the elevator with Luca, she looked back one last time. Dominic was standing beside his daughter’s bed, holding her small hand, looking less like a mafia kingpin and more like a man walking through a minefield.
Little did she know, the bracelet on Lia’s wrist wasn't just a calling card. It was a countdown.
