Chapter 2 - The Apartment Hidden Behind the Rain
Alessandro Moretti had followed hundreds of people in his life.
Enemies.
Business partners.
Men who smiled in front of him and planned his downfall behind closed doors.
Following someone was a skill. A weapon.
It required patience.
Distance.
Control.
But that evening, sitting behind the wheel of his black sedan while rain covered the windshield, Alessandro realized something uncomfortable.
He was not hunting.
He was watching.
And he had no idea what he expected to find.
Sophia Romano walked several blocks away from the Moretti estate, holding Emma’s small hand tightly. The rain had become heavier, turning the streets into mirrors of gray light.
The little girl stepped carefully around puddles.
Not because she was afraid of getting wet.
Because she was afraid of bothering her mother.
That was what Alessandro noticed first.
Most children her age would jump into the water.
They would laugh.
They would complain when their shoes became dirty.
Emma simply walked beside Sophia in silence.
Like she had learned that happiness was something she needed permission to have.
Alessandro hated that thought.
Because he knew it too well.
He had spent three years teaching himself not to feel.
Now he was seeing the same emptiness in a child.
And he did not know how to ignore it.
Sophia stopped outside an old apartment building on the edge of the city.
It was nothing like the Moretti estate.
No marble floors.
No security gates.
No expensive cars waiting outside.
The building was old and worn.
The paint on the walls had faded.
The entrance light flickered every few seconds.
Alessandro remained parked across the street.
He watched Sophia unlock the door.
Emma looked up at the building.
Then she looked back at the rain.
For a moment, Alessandro thought she looked sad.
Not tired.
Not scared.
Sad.
A three-year-old should not know how to look that way.
Sophia noticed.
“What happened, sweetheart?”
Emma shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Another answer that bothered him.
Children were supposed to say everything.
They cried when they were hurt.
They shouted when they were angry.
They demanded attention when they needed love.
Emma did the opposite.
She hid.
Sophia opened the apartment door, and they disappeared inside.
Alessandro sat in his car for several minutes.
He told himself he was only gathering information.
He told himself there was a reason.
Maybe Sophia was involved with someone dangerous.
Maybe the child was being neglected.
Maybe there was something connected to his enemies.
His mind searched for logical explanations.
Anything except the truth.
That he cared.
Finally, he stepped out.
The rain immediately soaked through his coat.
He walked toward the building.
Not quickly.
Not secretly.
Just enough to see.
Enough to understand.
The hallway smelled like old wood and damp walls.
A single yellow bulb hung from the ceiling.
He climbed the stairs silently.
When he reached the second floor, he heard voices.
Sophia.
And Emma.
He stopped near the apartment door.
He knew it was wrong.
He knew he should leave.
But then he heard Sophia crying.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The kind of crying people do when they believe nobody is listening.
Alessandro froze.
Inside the apartment, Emma spoke.
“Mommy?”
Sophia quickly wiped her face.
“I’m okay.”
“You’re sad.”
“No, sweetheart.”
Emma was silent.
Then:
“Is it because we don’t have money?”
Alessandro felt something tighten in his chest.
There was a pause.
A long one.
Then Sophia answered.
“It’s not your job to worry about money.”
“But you worry.”
The simplicity of the child’s words was painful.
Sophia took a breath.
“I worry because I love you.”
Emma hugged her mother.
“I love you too.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
For a moment, he saw another little girl.
Chiara.
Standing in his office years ago.
She had climbed onto his chair because she wanted to be taller.
She had looked at him and said:
“Papa, you work too much because you think money can fix everything.”
He had laughed.
He had told her she was too young to understand.
Now he wondered if she had understood more than he did.
He looked through the small opening near the door.
The apartment was tiny.
A single bedroom.
A small kitchen.
A table with two chairs.
That was all.
Sophia placed a bag of groceries on the counter.
Alessandro noticed immediately.
There was not much inside.
Some vegetables.
A small amount of rice.
Bread.
Nothing else.
Emma walked toward the table and sat down.
She placed her doll beside her.
The doll had one missing button eye.
Its dress was stitched together.
Sophia heated something in a small pot.
Then she placed the food into one bowl.
One bowl.
Not two.
Alessandro frowned.
“Emma, eat.”
The little girl looked at the bowl.
“Mommy?”
“I already ate.”
Another lie.
Alessandro knew because he had watched her.
She had not eaten at the estate.
She had barely touched anything all day.
Emma picked up the spoon.
Then she stopped.
She looked at her mother.
Slowly, she pushed the bowl toward Sophia.
“Together.”
Sophia smiled sadly.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Together.”
The little girl insisted.
Not loudly.
Not demanding.
Just certain.
Sophia finally sat beside her.
They shared the meal.
One bowl.
Two people.
A mother pretending she was not hungry.
A child pretending she did not notice.
Alessandro stepped away from the door.
For years, he had believed pain made people weak.
He believed attachment was a vulnerability.
That was why Isabella and Chiara had died.
Because he had allowed himself to love.
Because he had created something enemies could destroy.
But standing in that hallway, he saw something different.
Love was not weakness.
Love was the reason a person could survive when everything else was taken away.
He returned to his car without speaking.
The rain continued falling.
But something had changed.
When he arrived at the estate, Lorenzo was waiting.
“You left without security, sir.”
Alessandro removed his coat.
“I was driving.”
Lorenzo looked surprised.
That alone was unusual.
Alessandro Moretti rarely explained himself.
“Did you need anything?”
Alessandro looked toward the east wing.
The hallway where Chiara’s bedroom remained locked.
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
“Find out everything about Sophia Romano.”
Lorenzo studied him.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Her background?”
“Everything.”
Lorenzo nodded.
Then he hesitated.
“May I ask why?”
Alessandro looked at him.
For a second, Lorenzo saw the old Alessandro.
The dangerous one.
The man everyone feared.
But behind that expression was something else.
Something almost forgotten.
Concern.
“She has a child.”
Lorenzo waited.
Alessandro continued.
“And that child acts like someone stole her childhood.”
The butler lowered his eyes.
He understood.
Because everyone in the house understood something else too.
The man who claimed he felt nothing had noticed a little girl who had nothing.
The next morning, Alessandro received the file.
Sophia Romano.
Twenty-nine years old.
No criminal record.
No family connections.
No hidden wealth.
No suspicious activity.
She had worked three jobs before arriving at the estate.
Cleaner.
Waitress.
Caretaker.
Always temporary.
Always leaving because childcare became impossible.
Then came the information about Emma.
Emma Romano.
Father listed as Daniel Romano.
No current address.
No contact information.
Alessandro read the page twice.
“Find the father.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Sir?”
“Quietly.”
“Understood.”
Alessandro continued reading.
The final note caught his attention.
A hospital record.
Emma had been treated two years earlier.
Malnutrition.
Minor injuries.
The report said the child had recovered.
But Alessandro stared at the words.
Malnutrition.
A child.
Three years old.
Something inside him became cold.
Not the coldness people feared.
A different kind.
The kind that appeared when someone threatened something innocent.
That evening, he returned home earlier than usual.
He expected nothing.
But as he entered the foyer, he heard a small voice.
“Mr. Moretti?”
He stopped.
Emma stood near the staircase.
Holding her doll.
Looking at him.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Alessandro was used to people avoiding his eyes.
But Emma did not.
She simply watched him.
Curious.
Careful.
Then she asked:
“Are you sad too?”
The question hit harder than any enemy’s attack ever had.
Alessandro looked at the child.
A thousand answers came to his mind.
He could say no.
He could walk away.
He could pretend.
That was what he always did.
But something stopped him.
“Yes.”
Emma tilted her head.
“Because someone is gone?”
Alessandro felt his throat tighten.
“Yes.”
The little girl hugged her doll.
“My daddy said when someone is gone, they don’t really leave if you remember them.”
Alessandro stared at her.
Because those words sounded impossible coming from someone so young.
“Your father said that?”
Emma nodded.
“Before he left.”
Silence filled the foyer.
Before he left.
Not died.
Not disappeared.
Left.
Alessandro looked at the little girl differently now.
There was a missing piece.
A secret.
Something Sophia was hiding.
Something Emma had learned too young.
He knelt slightly, bringing himself closer to her height.
“What else did your father tell you?”
Emma looked toward the kitchen.
Then back at him.
Her voice became smaller.
“He said if anyone ever found us…”
She stopped.
Alessandro waited.
“What?”
Emma hugged her doll tighter.
“He said they would come back.”
For the first time in three years, Alessandro Moretti felt something stronger than grief.
A warning.
Because he knew that tone.
He knew what fear sounded like.
And suddenly, the little girl he had followed through the rain was no longer just a child who needed help.
She was someone running from something.
May you like
And whatever had been chasing her…
Had just entered Alessandro Moretti’s world.
