Chapter 4 - Ghosts in the Marble Halls
The interior of the Rossi estate felt like a museum built for ghosts.
High ceilings, dark mahogany paneling, oil paintings of stern-faced men in velvet coats, and marble floors that echoed with every step. Dozens of armed security personnel stood in the shadows, bowing their heads respectfully as Stefano walked past.
He led me up a grand curved staircase to a private wing on the second floor. He opened a pair of heavy double doors, revealing a bedroom larger than my entire apartment. A roaring fire crackled in a stone fireplace, casting a warm glow over a king-sized canopy bed and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
"This was your mother's room," Stefano said softly, stepping inside behind me.
I walked toward the bookshelf, my fingers tracing the spines of the leather-bound volumes. I stopped when I saw a small framed sketch on the desk.
It was a drawing of a young boy—maybe twelve years old—sitting on a stone wall, holding a wooden toy sword. Beside him stood a young woman with dark hair.
"You," I realized, picking up the frame. "She was your bodyguard when you were a child."
"She was my mentor," Stefano corrected, standing behind me. I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "When my father became mad with power, Clara was the only person in this house who treated me like a human being instead of an heir to a criminal empire. She taught me how to shoot. She taught me how to read people. And when she fell in love with my father, she realized too late what kind of monster he really was."
"Why did she run?" I asked, looking up into his dark eyes.
"Because when she got pregnant with you, my father threatened to take the baby and raise you inside the business," Stefano explained. "Clara knew the syndicate would devour your soul. So she faked an explosion at the docks, took a million dollars from the family vault, and vanished into thin air."
"And you helped her," I said softly, piecing the puzzle together.
"I was nineteen," Stefano murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second. "I staged the fire. I bought the forged papers. I gave her the prayer that my mother taught me before she died. It was our secret code. If she ever needed help, she was supposed to send that prayer."
"I sent that text to Paula's old number..." I whispered. "How did it get to you?"
Stefano pulled his phone from his pocket, laying it on the desk.
May you like
"Because fifteen years ago, when I took over the family's logistics network, I bought that phone number," Stefano confessed, stepping closer until his chest was inches from mine. "I kept it active for twenty years, Elena. Waiting for a message that never came. Until four o'clock today."
