Chapter 8 - The Winter GardenThe gunshot did not come from Sofia’s pistol.
It came from above.
A warning shot smashed through the winter garden ceiling, raining glass over the stone path between the two women.
Clara threw herself behind a planter.
Sofia screamed and dropped to one knee, one arm shielding her face.
On the upper balcony, Luca stood with his weapon raised.
“Drop it!” he shouted.
Sofia looked at the pistol in her hand.
Then at Clara.
Then at the side door behind her.
She smiled through a streak of blood on her cheek.
“You don’t know what Bruno has under this house.”
She threw the pistol down.
Luca rushed in with two guards and forced Sofia to the floor. She did not fight. That frightened Clara more than resistance would have.
Back inside, Alejandro sat in the main hall as police lights flashed blue and red across the marble walls.
For the first time in twenty years, officers entered the Moretti estate without needing permission.
Some looked terrified.
Some looked hungry.
All looked aware that history was happening.
Detective Maren Shaw led them.
She was tall, sharp-eyed, and wore a gray coat over a black suit. She looked at Alejandro Moretti sitting pale beneath his own chandelier and did not flinch.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said. “Rough evening?”
Alejandro stared at her. “I was poisoned.”
“I heard. By your fiancée?”
“And possibly my head of security.”
“Convenient,” Shaw said.
Alejandro’s eyes narrowed. “For whom?”
“For everyone who wants you weakened before sunrise.”
Clara stood behind him holding Emma.
Detective Shaw noticed the child.
Her expression softened, but only slightly. “Is this the girl who called?”
Emma hid her face against Clara.
“She saved him first,” Clara said.
Shaw looked at the empty rabbit backpack. “With her own medicine?”
“Yes.”
Something hard moved behind the detective’s eyes.
She turned to Alejandro. “Then I suggest you start telling the truth faster than your enemies can rewrite it.”
Before Alejandro could answer, a commotion rose near the staircase.
Two officers dragged Bruno down in handcuffs.
He was bleeding from one eyebrow but still looked less defeated than patient.
When he passed Alejandro, he leaned close.
“You think Sofia was the knife,” Bruno whispered. “She was only the handle.”
Alejandro’s face did not move.
Bruno smiled.
“Ask your maid what happened to her husband.”
Clara went cold.
Alejandro turned.
“Her husband?”
Clara’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Detective Shaw looked between them.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Clara held Emma tighter.
“My husband disappeared two years ago,” she said quietly. “Before I came here.”
Bruno’s smile widened.
“No,” he said. “He didn’t disappear.”
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Then he looked at Alejandro.
“You buried him.”
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