Chapter 5 - Confessions of the HousemaidBack at the DeLuca mansion, the grand hall was completely empty of guests. The three hundred elite politicians and capos had long since fled into the night, terrified of the war that was now exploding across New York.
In the center of the opulent living room, seated in a high-backed velvet armchair, was Sophia Rossi.
Her hands were no longer tied, but she sat rigidly, staring down at her lap as if waiting for an executioner's axe to fall. Standing beside her on the rug was little Emma, fast asleep with her gray stuffed rabbit clutched tightly in her arms, resting peacefully in a plush guest bedroom upstairs under the care of a trusted doctor.
Lorenzo walked into the room. He had washed the dried rain and gunpowder from his hands, but his suit jacket was still stained. He didn't sit down. He stood directly in front of Sophia, resting his weight on the back of a nearby sofa.
"Talk, Sophia," Lorenzo said quietly. "And make it good. Because right now, the only reason you're breathing is because my daughter looked at you like a mother before she ran to me."
Sophia squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. She didn't look angry; she looked utterly broken.
"I didn't want to betray you, Mr. DeLuca," Sophia whispered, her voice trembling. "I swear to God, I didn't."
"You worked in my house for three years. You watched Isabella bake bread in this very kitchen. You held my hand when I proposed to her in the garden," Lorenzo’s voice rose, charged with a quiet, devastating fury. "And then you helped the Morettis hide my child while letting me believe she was burning in a ravine."
"I had no choice!" Sophia sobbed, looking up at him, her eyes wide with desperation. "They had my husband. Eight months ago, before the bridge attack, the Morettis kidnapped David. They said if I didn't help them switch the bassinet at the hospital—if I didn't swap your baby with another infant who died of natural causes that same morning—they would torture him to death piece by piece!"
Lorenzo froze. The pieces of the puzzle violently snapped together in his mind.
The hospital staff. The closed-door delivery room. The quick funeral where the casket was sealed shut by order of the coroner.
"The baby in the coffin..." Lorenzo breathed, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. "Whose child was it?"
"A homeless girl who died in the emergency room that same night," Sophia wept, covering her face with her hands. "The Morettis arranged the whole thing. They wanted to break you, Mr. DeLuca. They wanted to strip the great Il Silenzioso of his mind, his family, and his empire by making him mourn ghosts. They ordered me to take your daughter, raise her in secret as my own niece in the servant quarters downstairs, and keep my mouth shut or my husband and my daughter would be killed."
"And where is David now?" Lorenzo asked, stepping closer.
Sophia lowered her hands, shaking her head slowly. "He’s been dead for seven months, Mr. DeLuca. They killed him the day after the funeral. I stayed in your house because it was the only place in New York the Morettis couldn't search without starting an all-out war. I stayed because I loved Isabella... and I wanted to protect your little girl until the day I could find a way to give her back to you."
Silence descended on the room once again. Heavy, thick, and suffocating.
Lorenzo stared down at the woman who had betrayed him, yet had also kept his flesh and blood alive through a nightmare of terror.
He didn't yell. He didn't reach for his gun.
Instead, he turned his back to her, walking slowly over to the grand mahogany fireplace where the portrait of Isabella Conti still looked down upon the room with her warm, candlelight eyes.
"Dante," Lorenzo called out without turning around.
"Boss?" Dante stepped out from the shadows near the doorway.
"Send a team to the Moretti family's primary warehouse in Queens. Burn it to the ground. Leave no survivors. Tell the commission that the war is over, and the DeLuca family is reclaiming every inch of this city before sunrise."
"Understood," Dante said, giving a sharp nod before turning to leave.
As Dante reached the door, Lorenzo spoke one final time, his eyes fixed on the painted portrait of his lost fiancée.
"And Dante?"
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"Yes, Lorenzo?"
"Find a top-tier medical team. Have my daughter examined from head to toe. Then... prepare the master nursery upstairs. Tell the staff that the princess is finally coming home."
