Chapter 4 - Strawberry Ice Cream
By noon, the sky above Manhattan had turned the bright, deceptive blue of a day pretending nothing could go wrong.
Sophia insisted on the park.
Aleandro insisted on changing the route twice.
Maria noticed.
“So you do believe there is danger,” she said from the back seat.
Aleandro sat beside Sophia, who was proudly wearing a paper crown from preschool. “I believe danger becomes lazy when people take familiar roads.”
“That sounds like something from a movie.”
“It sounds like survival.”
Sophia leaned against him. “Are we still getting ice cream?”
“Yes.”
“Strawberry?”
“Yes.”
“With sprinkles?”
Aleandro hesitated. “Were sprinkles in the original agreement?”
Sophia’s eyes widened in betrayal.
He turned to Maria. “Were sprinkles implied?”
Despite everything, Maria laughed.
The sound surprised all three of them.
It was small. Rusty. Almost forgotten.
But it was real.
The driver dropped them near a park on the Upper West Side. Children climbed bright structures while parents hovered with snacks and phones. A man played violin near the fountain. Dogs tugged at leashes. Life continued with careless beauty.
Aleandro scanned every bench, every path, every parked vehicle.
Sophia pulled his hand. “Swing!”
Maria followed, still guarded but less rigid than before.
At the swings, Sophia climbed onto the seat and gripped the chains. “Push me until I touch the sky.”
Aleandro stood behind her. “That may violate several laws of physics.”
“What is physics?”
“An excuse adults use when they lack imagination.”
Sophia kicked her legs. “Push.”
He did.
At first carefully.
Then higher as she laughed.
Maria stood a few feet away, watching her daughter fly toward the blue sky, hair ribbons bouncing, paper crown slipping sideways.
For eight months, Sophia had asked why heaven was too far for visits. For eight months, Maria had given answers that broke in her mouth. Now her daughter was laughing like the world had not stolen anything from her.
Maria turned away quickly, but Aleandro saw her wipe her face.
“Again!” Sophia shouted.
He pushed again.
A memory returned without permission.
Matteo at seven, demanding the same thing on a rusted swing behind their old Queens apartment. Higher, Ale. Higher. I want the moon.
Aleandro’s hand slipped on the chain.
Sophia twisted back. “You stopped.”
“I was thinking.”
“Don’t think. Push.”
He obeyed.
At the edge of the playground, a man in a gray cap stood beside a food cart without buying anything.
Aleandro saw him.
The man saw Aleandro see him.
Then he walked away.
Aleandro pulled out his phone and texted one word.
FOLLOW.
No visible guard moved, but somewhere nearby, loyal men changed direction.
After the swings came ice cream.
Sophia ordered strawberry with sprinkles, whipped cream, and a cherry. Maria objected to the size. Sophia explained that borrowed daddies were legally required to say yes. Aleandro, unfamiliar with preschool law, paid without argument.
They sat on a bench beneath a tree.
Sophia’s mouth turned pink.
Aleandro handed her a napkin.
She ignored it.
Maria took it and cleaned her daughter’s chin with practiced tenderness.
For a moment, they looked like any small family in the park.
Then Sophia said, “Mr. Marco said we might go on a big boat.”
Maria’s hand froze.
Aleandro slowly looked at the child. “When did Marco say that?”
Sophia licked a sprinkle from her thumb. “When he came to our apartment.”
Maria stood. “What?”
Sophia blinked. “Mama, you were sleeping.”
Maria’s face changed from confusion to horror.
“Sophia,” Aleandro said gently, “when did he come?”
The little girl’s forehead wrinkled. “Nighttime. He didn’t turn on the big light. He said not to wake Mama because she cries too much.”
Maria pressed a hand against the bench.
“What else did he say?”
Sophia looked from Aleandro to Maria, sensing the adults had become serious. “He said Daddy left us something bad people wanted. He said if Mama didn’t listen, the bad people would put me in a box.”
Maria made a sound like she had been struck.
Aleandro’s eyes turned cold.
Sophia’s lip trembled. “Did I do wrong?”
“No,” he said immediately. “You did very right.”
Maria knelt in front of her daughter. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he said secrets keep mommies alive.”
Maria began to cry then, silent tears she could not stop.
Aleandro stood.
His phone buzzed.
A message from one of his men appeared.
GRAY CAP LOST US AT 79TH. BUT WE GOT PLATE.
A second message arrived.
PLATE REGISTERED TO SHELL COMPANY. CONNECTED TO RICCI.
Aleandro closed his eyes once.
When he opened them, something in him had settled.
Not rage.
Rage was loud.
This was older. Quieter. Worse.
Maria looked up at him. “What is happening?”
Aleandro watched Sophia clutch her melting ice cream.
“Marco is not trying to protect you,” he said.
The violin near the fountain stopped playing.
A black SUV rolled slowly past the park entrance.
Aleandro placed himself between the car and the bench.
“He is preparing to move you.”
Maria’s voice shook. “Move us where?”
May you like
Aleandro stared at the SUV until it disappeared around the corner.
“Somewhere he thinks I cannot reach.”
