Chapter 2 - Bloodlines and Shadows
The gates of the Moretti estate swung open like the jaws of a sleeping leviathan.
The black SUV glided up the long, tree-lined driveway, its tires crunching on the wet gravel. Inside the vehicle, the air was warm, scented with rich leather and the faint trace of Isabella’s favorite lavender oil, which Daario still kept in the glove compartment.
Mia sat in the back, swallowed whole by Daario’s coat, staring wide-eyed through the tinted glass at the massive stone manor towering ahead. It was a fortress of marble, slate, and wrought iron—a physical manifestation of sixty years of unchecked power.
Sitting in the front passenger seat was Marco, Daario’s most trusted advisor and captain of his personal security, a man who had served the Moretti family since Daario was a young lieutenant in South Philadelphia. Marco’s grey eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, tracking the child with a mixture of profound shock and deep apprehension.
"Don Donato," Marco said softly, using the formal title reserved for private, serious matters. "The boys at the perimeter gate are asking questions. You brought a child onto the grounds without clearing security protocols. If the street bosses hear—"
"The street bosses will hear what I allow them to hear," Daario said cutely, keeping one broad, scarred hand resting protectively over Mia’s small shoulder. "Where is the file on Saint Michael’s Children's Home?"
Marco reached into his jacket and handed a thin manila folder to the backseat. "It’s a state-run facility on the West Side, Donato. Barely funded, heavily overcrowded. According to quick inquiries, the child was dropped off there eighty-two days ago by a woman claiming to be a distant cousin. No birth certificate was filed with the entry papers."
"Find that woman," Daario commanded, his voice cold and flat. "Bring her to the estate. Do not kill her yet. I want to know who paid her to deposit my blood in a gutter."
Mia shifted slightly, her tiny fingers clutching the silver locket around her neck. "Grandpa?"
The word sent a strange, electrifying shock down Daario’s spine. He turned to her, his harsh features instantly softening into something almost gentle. "Yes, little one?"
"Is this the castle Isabella talked about?" she asked, looking up at the high decorative ceilings of the entryway as Marco opened the car door.
"It is," Daario said, stepping out and lifting her back into his arms. "And from this moment on, every person inside it answers to you."
They stepped into the grand foyer. The household staff—servants, guards, cooks, and maids—stood lined up along the double staircase, their faces pale masks of disbelief. They had expected their master to return from the cemetery as he always did: silent, brooding, reeking of scotch and grief. Instead, he carried a dirty, rain-drenched orphan as if she were a precious holy relic.
"Clear the third floor," Daario ordered the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, an elderly woman who had been like a mother to Isabella. "Prepare the master suite. The one that belonged to my daughter. Bring warm food, fresh milk, and the private physician. Dr. Rossi."
Mrs. Gable looked at Mia, her eyes suddenly widening as she caught sight of the child’s gray-green eyes. She gasped, covering her mouth with an apron-clad hand. "Dear God in Heaven... she looks just like her."
"She is her," Daario said simply. "Tell Rossi if he speaks a word of this child’s existence to anyone outside these walls, he won't live to see the sunrise."
As Mrs. Gable hurried upstairs to carry out the orders, Marco stepped closer to Daario, leaning in so his voice wouldn't carry to the young girl.
"Donato, we have a problem," Marco whispered urgently. "The commission meeting is scheduled for eight o'clock tonight at the docks. Salvatore Scalese has been pushing hard for a vote on the Eastern territories. He knows you've been weak since the funeral. If you don't show up tonight—or if you show up distracted—he will move against you."
Daario looked down at Mia, who was leaning her head tiredly against his collarbone, her small frame relaxing as the warmth of the house seeped into her cold skin.
May you like
Salvatore Scalese. The head of the rival Scalese family. A ruthless, ambitious hyena who had been nibbling at the edges of the Moretti territory for five years.
"I will be at the meeting, Marco," Daario said softly, his eyes darkening with an ancient, deadly promise. "And I will give Salvatore exactly what he has been waiting for."
