Chapter 3 - Whispers in the ShadowsDownstairs in the expansive, marble-columned kitchen, Alessandro Moretti swirled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler, his eyes narrowed into cold slits.
For three years, Alessandro had quietly positioned himself as the inevitable successor. He managed the docks, handled the council, and whispered in the ears of capos who thought Dominic was losing his grip. Everyone whispered that the boss was a ticking time bomb—a ghost haunting a mausoleum who would eventually drink himself into a stupor or make a fatal tactical error.
"He slept," Sophia’s voice trembled slightly as she set a fresh cup of espresso on the marble island.
Alessandro didn't look up immediately. He set his glass down with a sharp clink. "Repeat that."
"He slept, Mr. Moretti. For eight hours straight. He hasn't come down yet, but his breathing... the guards say he hasn't looked this peaceful since the accident."
Alessandro’s jaw tightened. A muscle jumped in his cheek. This wasn't supposed to happen. The insomnia was their greatest weapon—it made Dominic erratic, isolated, and dependent on Alessandro's daily briefings.
"Who did it?" Alessandro demanded, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous, glacial register. "Which doctor? What experimental sedative did you smuggle into his quarters?"
"No one, sir. No doctor." Sophia swallowed hard, wringing her apron in her hands. "It was Lily. My little girl. She wandered into his room last night."
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Alessandro stared at her, the sheer absurdity of the statement warring with a sudden, icy spike of paranoia. A three-year-old? A housekeeper's brat had managed what millions of dollars in neurological treatments couldn't?
"Get her out of this house," Alessandro hissed, stepping close enough to make Sophia flinch. "And if that kid ever goes near his floor again, you’ll both be scrubbing floors in the river."
