Chapter 2 - The Rabbit Opens a Grave
Nobody screamed.
That was somehow worse.
Twelve of the most dangerous families in Milan had been laughing, drinking, negotiating marriages, territories, shipping contracts, and favors less than thirty seconds earlier.
Now the entire grand hall had become silent enough for me to hear Emma breathing.
Alessandro Moretti did not look away from the little black symbol beneath the rabbit’s ear.
“Who gave her this?” he asked again.
His voice was calm.
But the guards positioned around the room had changed.
Their hands were no longer resting casually near their jackets.
They were ready.
“My husband,” I said.
Alessandro looked at me.
“His name.”
“Noah Bennett.”
Something flickered across the face of the man standing beside Alessandro.
He was perhaps sixty, silver-haired, elegant, wearing a charcoal suit with a black tie. I had seen him around the villa dozens of times.
Carlo Moretti.
Alessandro’s uncle.
His consigliere.
The man the servants whispered had raised Alessandro after his father died.
The reaction lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
And strangely, Alessandro did too.
“When?” Alessandro asked.
“When did your husband give your daughter that rabbit?”
“The week before he died.”
Vivian released an irritated breath.
“This is absurd.”
Alessandro never looked at her.
“How did he die?”
I tightened my arms around Emma.
“Car accident.”
“Where?”
“Near Monza.”
“When?”
“January seventeenth. Two years ago.”
Don Ricci, the elderly boss who had defended me earlier, slowly set his glass on the table.
Alessandro’s eyes sharpened.
“What time?”
I stared at him.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Think.”
The command hit me hard enough to bring back the worst night of my life.
A policeman standing beneath fluorescent hospital lights.
A plastic chair beneath my knees.
Emma asleep against my shoulder.
A doctor telling me Noah had been dead before the ambulance arrived.
“After eleven,” I whispered. “Maybe eleven-thirty.”
Alessandro turned toward Carlo.
Nobody else spoke.
Carlo gave a small shrug.
“What?”
“January seventeenth,” Alessandro said.
Carlo’s face remained smooth.
“Two years ago.”
“Yes.”
“The Monza convoy.”
For the first time, several men around the ballroom looked uneasy.
Vivian folded her arms.
“What does some dead housekeeper’s husband have to do with a convoy?”
I flinched.
Alessandro’s eyes moved to her so slowly that Vivian seemed to realize her mistake before he spoke.
“You will not refer to him that way again.”
“He was—”
“Enough.”
One word.
Vivian shut her mouth.
Alessandro looked at me again.
“There was a Moretti shipment moving through Monza that night. Its route was changed at the last minute. Only six people knew the replacement road.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“It disappeared.”
Carlo stepped forward.
“Alessandro, this conversation does not belong in front of outsiders.”
Alessandro ignored him.
“Two drivers were killed. One guard vanished. Seventeen million euros in unregistered diamonds were taken.”
I stared at him.
“You think Noah stole them?”
“No.”
That answer came immediately.
“I think your husband may have known who did.”
Emma tugged my sleeve.
“Mommy.”
I bent down.
“What, baby?”
She pressed the rabbit against my chest.
“I want to go home.”
The fear in her voice snapped something inside me.
“I agree.”
I stood.
“I don’t know anything about your shipments or your families. My husband repaired computer systems for shipping companies. He died in a crash. That rabbit is my daughter’s. Whatever symbol is there, we didn’t know about it.”
I reached toward the toy.
Alessandro caught my wrist.
Not hard.
But firmly enough to stop me.
Every instinct in my body turned cold.
He immediately released me.
“Forgive me.”
The apology stunned everyone more than the gesture.
Alessandro crouched again so that he was level with Emma.
“Emma.”
She peeked at him from behind my dress.
“May I look at Mr. Bunny for one minute?”
“No.”
A few men actually seemed startled.
Alessandro nodded solemnly.
“That is fair.”
Emma studied him.
Then she narrowed her eyes with three-year-old suspicion.
“You won't hurt him?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She thought about it.
“Cross your heart.”
Something almost like amusement touched Don Ricci’s face.
Alessandro Moretti, a man rumored to have ordered people buried beneath construction sites, placed one hand over his heart.
“I cross my heart.”
Emma surrendered the rabbit.
Alessandro carried it to a nearby table.
“Gianni.”
A thin man with glasses approached from beside the security team.
He produced a small folding knife.
I moved instantly.
“No.”
Alessandro lifted a hand.
“He will only open the seam.”
“You promised her you wouldn’t hurt it.”
“And I will have it repaired.”
“That is not what you promised.”
Alessandro looked from me to Emma.
Then, incredibly, he handed the knife away.
“Magnifying glass.”
Someone brought one.
For several minutes, Gianni examined the black stitching without cutting anything.
Finally, he inhaled sharply.
“There’s something underneath.”
Carlo shifted.
My eyes went to him.
Again, that tiny movement.
Again, gone almost immediately.
Gianni carefully pressed the rabbit’s ear between his fingers.
“There is a hard object inside the padding.”
Vivian rolled her eyes.
“It’s probably part of the toy.”
“No,” Gianni said.
Everyone looked at him.
He removed his glasses.
“It is rectangular.”
Alessandro’s expression became unreadable.
“What size?”
“Micro storage device. Maybe smaller.”
I stopped breathing.
“Noah never told me anything.”
“I believe you,” Alessandro said.
Vivian laughed.
“You believe her?”
He turned.
“You seem unusually bothered by that.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I’m bothered by the fact that our engagement dinner has become an investigation into a maid’s stuffed animal.”
“My daughter’s stuffed animal,” I corrected.
Vivian glared at me.
Alessandro stepped between us.
“Enough.”
He looked around the hall.
“The dinner is over.”
Shock rippled through the room.
One of the younger bosses stood.
“Moretti—”
“Everyone leaves.”
“You summoned twelve families here to discuss Palermo.”
“Palermo can wait.”
Nobody argued a second time.
That was when I understood the real scale of Alessandro Moretti’s power.
These men were feared across Italy.
Yet within ten minutes, coats were collected, cars were summoned, conversations ended, and armed entourages began moving toward the doors.
Only Don Ricci remained.
Carlo remained.
Vivian remained.
And so did I.
When the final guest disappeared, Alessandro turned to Gianni.
“Open the ear.”
I immediately shook my head.
“Not until Emma is asleep.”
He studied me.
Then nodded.
“Rosa.”
An older housekeeper appeared from the service hall.
“Take Mrs. Bennett and Emma to the east sitting room. Bring them food. Lock the exterior corridor.”
“Lock?” I repeated.
“For protection.”
“I don’t want protection.”
“You may need it.”
“From whom?”
Alessandro looked toward the closed ballroom doors.
“That is what I intend to discover.”
Twenty minutes later, Emma was curled on a velvet couch with a blanket tucked beneath her chin.
She had fought sleep bravely.
She lost.
Mr. Bunny rested beside her.
I stayed close while Gianni carefully separated three stitches beneath the rabbit’s ear.
His tweezers disappeared inside.
Then he pulled out a tiny black memory card wrapped in wax paper.
My knees almost failed.
Noah.
What had you done?
Gianni placed the card inside a secure reader.
The laptop screen flickered.
One encrypted folder appeared.
No filename.
Only a password prompt.
Carlo stepped closer.
“Noah Bennett was no computer repairman.”
“He was,” I snapped.
“At least that’s what he told you.”
I turned on him.
“My husband did not lie to me.”
Carlo gave me an almost pitying look.
“Everyone lies to their wives.”
Alessandro’s gaze hardened.
“Careful.”
Gianni began typing.
“I’ll need time.”
“How much?”
“Could be minutes. Could be days.”
The lights went out.
Every lamp.
Every chandelier.
Every screen.
Darkness swallowed the east wing.
Emma screamed.
I threw myself over her.
At the same instant, gunfire erupted somewhere beyond the locked corridor.
Three shots.
A pause.
Then two more.
Alessandro pulled a pistol from beneath his jacket.
“Stay down!”
Red emergency lighting clicked on.
One of his guards burst through the door.
Blood covered his white shirt.
“Boss.”
Alessandro caught him before he fell.
“What happened?”
The guard struggled to breathe.
“West security room.”
“Who?”
The man shoved something into Alessandro’s palm.
Then collapsed.
It was a folded piece of paper.
Alessandro opened it beneath the red emergency light.
His face changed.
“What does it say?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
I grabbed the paper.
There were only eight words.
May you like
THE CHILD SHOULD HAVE DIED WITH HER FATHER.
And behind me, Emma began to cry.
