Chapter 4 - The Man Who Fired First
Glass rained across the library like frozen stars.
Rosa threw herself over Lily before she understood what had happened. The lamps shattered. The fire hissed. One guard shouted and dropped behind a chair. Another reached for his weapon as bullets punched through the curtains in a vicious line.
Alessandro moved faster than Rosa thought a man his size could move.
He grabbed Lily with one arm and Rosa with the other, driving them both behind the heavy mahogany desk. The impact knocked the breath from Rosa’s lungs. Lily screamed without sound, her mouth open, her small body rigid with terror.
The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Smoke drifted through the torn curtains.
Alessandro held one finger to his lips out of habit, then caught himself and signed to Lily.
Stay down.
Lily clung to Rosa and nodded.
Enzo burst through the door with six men behind him. “Boss!”
“East lawn,” Alessandro said. “Two shooters minimum. I want one breathing.”
Enzo was already moving.
The guards swept out, leaving the library ringing with the strange silence after violence. Rosa’s ears buzzed. Her arms trembled around Lily. She looked down and saw blood on her sleeve.
For one sickening second, she thought it was her daughter’s.
Then Alessandro turned his left arm.
A shard of glass had sliced through his jacket and into his forearm.
“You’re hurt,” Rosa said.
“It is glass.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I have bled before.”
His calm frightened her almost as much as the attack.
Rosa pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Let me see.”
Alessandro looked at her, almost surprised.
“No.”
“Please do not argue with the maid while bleeding on your own carpet.”
For a moment, his eyes narrowed. Then he extended his arm.
Rosa pressed the cloth against the wound. Her hands were steady now because they had to be. She had patched Miguel after construction accidents, stitched tiny dresses by candlelight when bills were too high, held Lily through fevers, hospital tests, and cruel doctors who spoke as if deafness made her less alive.
Blood did not scare Rosa.
Power did.
And Alessandro Moretti had too much of it.
He watched her hands. “You should be shaking.”
“I am.”
“No.”
She looked up. “Then I will schedule it for later.”
Something like respect flickered in his face.
Lily peeked over the desk and saw the blood. Her eyes filled instantly.
Alessandro noticed. He shifted his arm away and signed awkwardly.
Not bad.
Lily frowned.
Bad.
He almost smiled again. “Maybe a little.”
The door opened and Dr. Bellini rushed in, carrying his medical case. “I heard shots.”
“Everyone heard shots,” Alessandro said.
Bellini knelt beside him. “You are impossible.”
“I was standing near a window.”
“That is what I mean.”
As the doctor cleaned the cut, Alessandro looked toward Rosa. “Who knew your daughter was here tonight?”
“No one,” Rosa said. “Only the kitchen staff. I swear.”
“Did anyone see her leave the kitchen?”
Rosa shook her head, then stopped. “Maybe.”
“Who?”
“The head steward, Mr. Crane. He was angry because she was sitting near the pantry. He told me children belong outside rich people’s houses, not inside them.”
Alessandro’s eyes hardened.
Bellini bandaged his arm. “The shooters did not come for you.”
Rosa went cold.
Alessandro said nothing.
Bellini glanced at Lily. “They fired low after the first volley. Toward the desk area. Toward where a child might hide if someone told them she was in here.”
Rosa’s stomach turned. “No.”
Alessandro stood.
“I want Crane found,” he said.
A guard at the door nodded and vanished.
Rosa held Lily closer. “Why would anyone shoot at a child?”
“Because a child saw what adults missed.”
His answer was flat, but there was something beneath it that made Rosa look toward the photograph again. Isabella, smiling forever behind glass.
Lily followed her gaze.
Alessandro saw both of them looking.
“My sister was eleven when she lost her hearing,” he said quietly. “A fever. My father called it weakness. My mother called it a new language.”
Rosa did not speak.
Alessandro continued, though his eyes remained on the broken window.
“Isabella taught me to sign. She said words were too easy for men. Hands told the truth.”
“What happened to her?” Rosa asked.
Bellini froze.
Alessandro did not answer at first.
Then he said, “She witnessed something she was not supposed to see.”
Rosa’s blood chilled.
“She told me,” Alessandro said. “I did not believe her fast enough.”
Lily watched his mouth, not understanding all of it, but understanding grief.
Rosa understood too much.
Outside the library, shouting erupted. Heavy footsteps approached. The door opened, and two guards dragged in Mr. Crane.
The head steward’s perfect uniform was torn, his gray hair disheveled. “This is outrageous! I have served this family for nine years!”
Alessandro walked toward him.
Crane stopped speaking.
“Who told the shooters the child was in the library?” Alessandro asked.
Crane swallowed. “I don’t know anything about shooters.”
Alessandro nodded once.
Enzo stepped in behind Crane and placed a phone on the desk.
“We found this in his pocket,” Enzo said. “Last outgoing text was sent six minutes before the shots.”
Alessandro picked up the phone.
Rosa saw the message on the screen.
The little witness is in the library.
Below it was a reply.
Clean it before midnight.
The contact name was only one letter.
L.
Luca.
Crane’s knees weakened. “I was told she was a danger to the family.”
Rosa stood so fast Lily grabbed her skirt.
“She is three years old!”
Crane looked at her with pure contempt. “Servants forget their place when people like him let them breathe the same air.”
Alessandro turned the phone in his hand. “Who gave the order?”
Crane’s mouth trembled.
“If I answer, I am dead.”
Alessandro leaned closer.
“If you do not answer, you will wish that were true.”
Crane broke.
“Luca,” he whispered. “Mr. DeSantis. But Miss Vivian knew. She told him the child had to disappear before the doctor finished testing the glass.”
Rosa swayed.
Vivian and Luca had not simply tried to kill Alessandro.
They had tried to murder Lily.
Alessandro looked at Enzo. “Take him downstairs. Do not let him speak to anyone.”
Crane began begging. Enzo removed him like furniture.
When the door closed, Rosa turned on Alessandro.
“I want to leave.”
“No.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You do not get to say no.”
Alessandro’s eyes flashed. “If you leave this house, you will not reach the gate.”
“I will call the police.”
“Half the police at this party belong to my guests.”
“Then I will scream.”
His voice softened, but only slightly. “Mrs. Delgado, your scream would be brave. It would not be useful.”
Rosa hated him in that moment because he was right.
Lily pulled her sleeve.
Man bad? she signed, pointing toward the door where Crane had vanished.
Rosa knelt. Many bad people.
Lily looked at Alessandro.
Him?
Rosa did not know how to answer.
Alessandro saw the question. He stood very still.
Then he signed to Lily:
I was bad. Tonight I listen.
Lily studied him carefully.
Children are terrible judges of status and excellent judges of sincerity.
After a moment, she nodded once.
Rosa did not. “Listening will not keep her alive.”
“No,” Alessandro said. “But I will.”
Before Rosa could answer, Enzo returned. His face was grim.
“Boss, Luca is gone.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“And Vivian?” he asked.
Enzo hesitated.
“She is standing in the ballroom,” he said, “telling everyone the maid poisoned you, her child imagined the rest, and you are having a breakdown.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
May you like
Alessandro turned toward the door.
“Then let us go hear her story.”
