Chapter 2 - The Woman He Was Supposed to Marry
Alessandro raised one hand.
No one moved.
Bianca knocked again.
“Alessandro, open the door.”
Sofia stared at him.
“How did she know you were here?”
That was exactly what Alessandro wanted to know.
He had changed vehicles twice after leaving his penthouse.
His driver had been told the destination only after they crossed Canal Street.
No assistant knew.
No member of his security team was supposed to know.
Yet Bianca had reached Sofia’s apartment less than ten minutes after the phone call ended.
Alessandro approached the door.
“Come alone?”
Bianca paused.
“Yes.”
He looked at Marco.
Marco checked the hallway through the peephole.
Then nodded.
Alessandro opened the door.
Bianca Moretti stood beneath a flickering hallway light wearing black trousers, a cream cashmere coat, and wet heels. Her dark blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail.
She looked beautiful.
She also looked terrified.
Her eyes went immediately to Sofia.
Then to the scattered photographs.
Then to Alessandro.
“You found them.”
Alessandro stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Bianca hesitated.
That told him more than any confession could have.
She entered.
Marco locked the door behind her.
Bianca looked at the three men.
“Why are they here?”
Alessandro ignored the question.
“How did you find me?”
“I tracked your car.”
“My car has no tracker.”
“Your phone does.”
“No.”
For the first time, Bianca seemed uncertain.
Alessandro removed his phone and placed it on the table.
“My private phone was rebuilt two months ago. No outside tracking software.”
Bianca said nothing.
“So I’ll ask again.”
He moved closer.
“How did you find me?”
Her eyes shifted toward Nico.
Alessandro saw it.
Nico’s face changed.
Marco stepped toward him.
Nico raised both hands.
“Boss, wait.”
“Give me your phone.”
Nico didn’t move.
“Now.”
Nico slowly removed his phone and handed it over.
Alessandro unlocked it using the emergency code required for senior security staff.
The latest outgoing message had been sent eleven minutes earlier.
One line.
HE’S HERE.
Recipient saved under a single letter.
B.
Alessandro looked at Nico.
“How long?”
Nico swallowed.
“Eight months.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
Marco grabbed Nico by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
“You sold him out?”
“Marco.”
Alessandro’s voice stopped him.
Marco released Nico.
Alessandro stared at the man who had guarded his mother’s hospital room.
“Why?”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“Because they had my daughter.”
Sofia looked up.
“What?”
Nico’s voice cracked for the first time.
“Rinaldi’s people found out where she goes to school.”
Alessandro understood.
Not greed.
Leverage.
That did not make it harmless.
But it made it different.
“Is she safe?”
“For now.”
“Where?”
“My sister took her to Boston.”
Alessandro nodded once.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Send two cars. Move them somewhere secure.”
Nico stared at Alessandro.
“You’re still helping her?”
“Your daughter didn’t betray me.”
Nico lowered his head.
Alessandro turned to Bianca.
“Now you.”
Her chin rose.
“I didn’t betray you.”
He held up the photograph.
“You were with Victor Rinaldi.”
“Yes.”
“Seven months ago.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about where you were.”
“Yes.”
“Explain.”
Bianca looked at Sofia.
Then Marco.
“Not in front of them.”
Alessandro almost smiled.
“You lost the right to choose the room.”
Something in her posture collapsed.
She removed her coat and placed it over the back of a chair.
“My father didn’t die nine years ago.”
Sofia sucked in a breath.
Alessandro said nothing.
Bianca continued.
“The funeral was staged.”
“Why?”
“To disappear.”
“From whom?”
“Your father’s enemies.”
Alessandro’s face hardened.
“My father had been dead three years.”
“I know.”
“Then explain how your supposedly dead father connects to mine.”
Bianca looked directly at him.
“Because my father helped kill Matteo Ferraro.”
The room became silent.
Alessandro took one slow breath.
Marco whispered, “Jesus.”
Bianca continued before anyone could interrupt.
“He didn’t pull the trigger. He arranged the payment.”
The bank transfer on the floor suddenly meant something.
Alessandro’s father.
Rinaldi.
Bianca’s family.
Pieces that had never belonged in the same puzzle were touching.
“Your father’s name.”
Bianca hesitated.
“You know it.”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
Alessandro stepped closer.
“Say it.”
Bianca’s eyes filled with tears.
“Anthony Moretti.”
Alessandro froze.
Anthony Moretti had been one of Matteo Ferraro’s closest advisers.
Uncle Anthony.
The man who had taken Alessandro to Yankees games when he was ten.
The man who had stood beside him at his father’s funeral.
The man who had told Alessandro to stay strong while Matteo’s coffin was lowered into the ground.
Alessandro felt something dangerous move through him.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I swear.”
“You met Rinaldi.”
“Because he claimed he could lead me to my father.”
“And the blue envelope?”
Bianca looked confused.
“What blue envelope?”
Alessandro studied her.
“You asked Sofia about it.”
“I asked whether she found an envelope.”
“Blue.”
“I never said blue.”
Everyone looked at one another.
Alessandro replayed the call in his head.
She had.
He remembered it clearly.
But Sofia suddenly looked uncertain.
“You did say blue.”
Bianca shook her head.
“No. I said envelope.”
Alessandro picked up Sofia’s phone.
The call had been recorded automatically by an app.
He played it.
Bianca’s voice came through the speaker.
“Sofia, did you find the envelope?”
No color.
No blue.
Alessandro stared at Sofia.
Sofia’s lips parted.
“I heard blue.”
“No,” Marco said quietly. “You said blue before she did.”
Sofia looked frightened.
“I—I don’t know why.”
Alessandro turned slowly toward the room.
Someone had planted the idea.
A message.
A note.
Something Sofia had seen earlier.
“Show me your phone.”
Sofia handed it over.
Alessandro searched recent messages.
Nothing.
Deleted messages.
Nothing.
Then he opened her photographs.
One image had been taken that evening.
A blue envelope lying on her kitchen table.
Sofia stared.
“I didn’t take that.”
Alessandro checked the timestamp.
12:03 a.m.
“Where were you?”
“In the shower.”
“Who was inside the apartment?”
“No one.”
Dario muttered, “Someone was.”
The blue envelope in the photograph had a handwritten name.
ALESSANDRO.
They searched the apartment again.
Nothing.
Nico checked beneath furniture.
Marco inspected the kitchen.
Dario removed drawers.
Bianca remained beside the table.
Alessandro watched her.
“Why were you really meeting Rinaldi?”
“To learn who killed your father.”
“You expected me to believe you were protecting me by lying to me?”
“No.”
Bianca looked at him.
“I expected you to hate me when you learned who my father was.”
“That was my decision to make.”
“I know.”
“Did you intend to tell me before the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Alessandro laughed bitterly.
“Thirty hours before you walked down the aisle?”
“I was afraid.”
“So was Sofia.”
Bianca looked toward her.
“And she still tried to tell me.”
Bianca wiped one tear from her cheek.
Alessandro felt no satisfaction.
Only exhaustion.
He loved this woman.
That was the problem.
If he felt nothing, this would have been easy.
Instead, every revelation landed inside something he had spent years building.
Trust.
He reached into his pocket and removed his phone.
Bianca’s face changed.
“What are you doing?”
Alessandro called his wedding coordinator.
She answered groggily.
“Mr. Ferraro?”
“Cancel Saturday.”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“The wedding. Cancel it.”
Bianca closed her eyes.
The coordinator stammered.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
“The cathedral? The reception? Guests?”
“All of it.”
“Mr. Ferraro, the deposits alone—”
“Keep them.”
He ended the call.
Bianca looked at him.
“You canceled it.”
“I did.”
“Does that mean we’re finished?”
Alessandro stared at her.
“It means I won’t marry someone while I’m still discovering who she is.”
Bianca nodded slowly.
She looked devastated.
But she did not argue.
That mattered too.
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He checked the message.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Marco turned the screen toward Alessandro.
A security camera image.
A man entering a storage facility in Queens twenty minutes earlier.
Locker number 317.
The man carried a blue envelope.
Alessandro stared at the face.
Nico whispered, “You know him?”
Alessandro did.
He had known him his entire life.
The man entering locker 317 was Father Dominic Russo.
May you like
The priest scheduled to marry Alessandro and Bianca.
And the person carrying the blue envelope was the same man who had heard Matteo Ferraro’s final confession.
