Chapter 2 - THE MAN IN SOPHIE’S DRAWING
“Uncle Marco.”
Sophie’s whisper was so soft Leon almost convinced himself he had misunderstood.
Almost.
He remained kneeling in front of her.
“Which Marco?”
Sophie frowned as though the question were silly.
“The one with the shiny watch.”
Leon slowly stood.
Marco DeLuca had been beside him for seventeen years.
Not by blood, but close enough that Leon’s mother had once set a place for Marco at Christmas without asking whether he was coming.
Marco knew the alarm codes.
He knew which banks Leon used.
He knew which men could enter the Moretti estate armed.
Most importantly, Marco had been Leon’s father’s closest protégé before becoming Leon’s consigliere.
Sophie pointed at a sheet of paper sticking from beneath a book on the side table.
“I drew him.”
Leon unfolded it.
Four figures stood beneath a yellow sun.
Sophie.
Her mother, Evelyn.
Isabella in a long cream coat.
And a tall man with a square black watch.
Children drew what adults ignored.
On the man’s wrist Sophie had carefully colored a red circle.
Leon knew that watch.
A black Patek Philippe with a crimson second hand.
He had given it to Marco on his fiftieth birthday.
“When did you see him with Miss Bella?”
“Before dinner.”
“Yesterday?”
Sophie nodded.
“They were by the flowers outside.”
The conservatory.
There were cameras there.
Leon crossed to the computer.
At 5:02 p.m., Isabella appeared among the winter roses.
Marco entered ninety seconds later.
But instead of embracing, they argued.
Leon turned up the sound.
“You’re moving too fast,” Marco said.
Isabella folded her arms.
“You told me the wedding changes everything.”
“It does.”
“Then stop treating me like I’m stupid.”
Marco glanced toward the glass doors.
“You put the device where I told you?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody saw?”
“No.”
Sophie looked at Leon.
“I saw.”
Despite everything, Leon almost smiled.
Then Isabella said something that erased it.
“I want Evelyn and the girl out before the wedding.”
Marco’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they have nothing to do with this.”
“They live in his house.”
“She works for him.”
“And the child wanders everywhere.”
Leon felt Sophie’s fingers curl around his sleeve.
Marco stepped closer to Isabella.
“Leave Sophie alone.”
The recording cut there.
Leon stared at the screen.
That did not sound like a man conspiring to seize his empire.
It sounded like a man protecting a child.
Which meant Sophie had answered one question and opened two more.
Why was Marco helping Isabella?
And why did he care what happened to Evelyn and Sophie?
“Mr. Leon?”
Sophie pointed at the recorder.
“Are we in trouble?”
Leon crouched again.
“No.”
“Mom too?”
“Your mother too.”
“You promise?”
Leon had spent his adult life avoiding promises.
Promises created leverage.
But Sophie was seven.
And she was scared because adults had brought danger into a home where she should have been thinking about crayons.
“I promise.”
He moved Evelyn and Sophie into the east guest wing without explaining everything. Evelyn protested immediately.
“We have our own rooms downstairs.”
“Not tonight.”
Her face tightened.
“Leon, what happened?”
He had known Evelyn Carter for five years. She had come to the estate after her husband disappeared from her life, carrying references from respectable families and a toddler who hid behind her skirt.
Evelyn never asked about Moretti business.
Leon never asked about her past.
Until now.
“Do you know Marco DeLuca?”
The color drained from her face.
There.
Small.
But unmistakable.
“You do.”
Evelyn looked toward Sophie.
“Baby, go wash your hands.”
“But—”
“Please.”
Sophie left reluctantly.
When the door closed, Leon lowered his voice.
“How?”
“I worked at one of his properties years ago.”
“What property?”
“A restaurant.”
“Which restaurant?”
“Leon.”
“Which restaurant?”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed.
“You employ me. You don’t own every year of my life.”
He deserved that.
Leon stepped back.
“No. I don’t.”
The anger left her face almost immediately, replaced by fear.
“Why are you asking about Marco?”
“Because Sophie saw him with Isabella.”
Evelyn went completely still.
Leon watched her.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?”
“Not with Sophie here.”
That answer bothered him more than a denial.
Before Leon could press her, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Isabella.
Leon took the recorder from his desk and slipped it into his jacket.
“Say nothing.”
Evelyn gave him a cold look.
“I know how to protect my daughter.”
Isabella entered wearing a silk blouse and carrying wedding samples.
“There you are.”
She kissed Leon’s cheek.
He smelled her perfume and remembered hearing her call another man darling.
Every instinct told him to pull away.
Instead, he put his arm around her waist.
“How was your afternoon?”
“Exhausting. Your mother wants peonies. I want roses. Apparently this qualifies as an international crisis.”
She smiled.
Perfectly.
Then she noticed Evelyn.
“Why is she here?”
“I moved Evelyn and Sophie upstairs.”
Isabella’s smile slipped.
“Why?”
“Broken pipe.”
The lie came easily.
Isabella studied him for one second too long.
Then she laughed.
“Of course.”
At dinner, Leon watched everything.
Marco arrived at eight.
He greeted Isabella with the same polite distance he always had.
No glance.
No touch.
Nothing.
Then Sophie entered carrying her drawing.
She had added something.
A necklace around Marco’s stick-figure neck.
A little silver cross.
Marco saw it.
His wineglass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Sophie walked directly to him.
“You forgot this part.”
Nobody spoke.
Marco set down his glass.
“Where did you see that, sweetheart?”
“When you were with Miss Bella.”
Isabella’s fork struck her plate.
Evelyn stood so quickly her chair scraped backward.
“Sophie.”
But Sophie had already turned over the drawing.
On the back she had taped something small and silver.
A medal.
Not a cross.
A Saint Christopher medallion.
Marco’s face changed.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Leon looked between them.
“What is that?”
Marco whispered, “Where did you get it?”
Sophie pointed toward Isabella.
“It fell out of Miss Bella’s coat.”
Isabella went pale.
But Evelyn was staring at the medal as if she had seen a ghost.
May you like
Then she said the words Leon would remember long after that night.
“That belonged to Sophie’s father.”
