Chapter 5 - Blood in the FoyerThe first thing Allessandro saw was glass everywhere.
The second was Isabella.
She stood at the foot of the main staircase, one hand pressed to her cheek, staring at the open front doors as if the devil himself had just walked in and smiled at her.
A guard lay bleeding near the threshold.
Another had his gun raised toward the driveway.
Smoke curled in the cold morning air.
“Allessandro!” Isabella cried.
She ran toward him.
Caleb stepped in front of her.
She stopped so abruptly her shoes skidded on the marble.
“Someone shot at the house,” she said, breathless. “I told you this was bigger than me.”
Allessandro looked past her.
Outside, a black sedan screamed down the drive toward the gate. One of his men fired once. The car swerved but did not stop.
“Plate,” Allessandro said.
“Covered,” the guard called back.
Of course.
Nothing careless now.
Allessandro walked to the injured guard and crouched beside him.
“Talk to me.”
The man grimaced. “Package, sir. Courier came to the gate. Said it was for Miss Vale. When Marco took it, the courier pulled a gun.”
“Aimed at who?”
The guard’s eyes moved toward Isabella.
“At her.”
Isabella’s face crumpled beautifully. “They tried to kill me.”
Allessandro looked at the package on the floor.
It was wrapped in brown paper, torn open during the struggle. Inside was a small white box tied with black ribbon.
Caleb opened it.
Inside lay a dead white rose.
And a photograph.
Allessandro took the photograph carefully.
It showed him at the breakfast table that morning.
From outside the window.
The bread in his hand.
Emma leaning near his ear.
Someone had been watching before Isabella entered the room.
On the back of the photograph, written in black ink, were six words.
SHE TALKS, HER MOTHER DIES.
Marisol.
Emma.
Allessandro’s expression did not change.
But the foyer changed around him.
Every man present felt it.
There were many kinds of silence in the Romano estate. Respectful silence. Fearful silence. Servant silence. Funeral silence.
This was older.
This was the silence before a command no one would dare question.
“Caleb,” Allessandro said.
“Yes.”
“Move Marisol and Emma.”
“Where?”
Allessandro looked up the staircase.
“Not on this property.”
Isabella stepped forward. “You can’t send them away. They’re witnesses.”
He turned his head slowly.
Isabella froze.
“You are not part of this conversation.”
Her lips thinned.
“Allessandro, whoever did this wants me dead too.”
“No,” he said. “They want me to think that.”
The words landed hard.
She looked insulted. Then afraid. Then insulted again.
“You think I staged being shot at?”
“I think you have not told me the truth since you entered this house.”
“I didn’t poison you!”
He held her stare.
Not a confession.
Not yet.
But too fast.
Too loud.
Too defensive.
He stepped closer.
“Then tell me who did.”
She swallowed.
For one moment, something human flickered in her eyes. Not innocence. Panic.
Then she whispered, “I can’t.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed.
Allessandro lowered his voice. “Can’t?”
Isabella looked toward the open doors, toward the road beyond the gates.
“If I say his name, my father dies.”
There it was again.
Another thread.
Another threat.
Another family tied around someone’s throat.
Before Allessandro could answer, his phone rang.
Only five people had that number.
He looked at the screen.
Carlo Romano.
His uncle.
He answered.
“Allessandro,” Carlo said, voice warm with practiced concern. “I heard there was trouble at the house.”
Allessandro looked at Caleb.
No one outside the estate should know yet.
“What kind of trouble?”
“A shooting. Isabella injured. A guard down. These things travel fast.”
“No,” Allessandro said. “Lies travel fast. Truth walks slower.”
A pause.
Then Carlo chuckled.
“You sound like your father.”
“Do I?”
“When he was angry, yes.”
Allessandro turned slightly away from Isabella.
“Why are you calling?”
“To tell you not to make a private family embarrassment into a public disaster. If Isabella did something foolish, handle it quietly. The Vale alliance matters.”
A guard bleeding on the marble floor. Poison in the butter. A threat against a child.
And Carlo’s first thought was the alliance.
Allessandro’s jaw tightened.
“What do you know about Dominic Sorrento?”
The silence on the other end was answer enough.
Then Carlo said, “Dominic is dead.”
“You didn’t ask why I mentioned him.”
“Allessandro—”
“I found his pin on my property.”
This time, Carlo did not speak.
Allessandro smiled coldly.
“Now you sound like my father.”
He ended the call.
Isabella was watching him.
“What did Carlo say?” she asked.
Allessandro slipped the phone into his pocket.
“That family matters.”
Her laugh broke strangely. “He always says that.”
“You know my uncle well?”
Too late, Isabella realized her mistake.
Caleb saw it too.
The foyer seemed to shrink around her.
Isabella lifted her chin. “Everyone knows Carlo.”
“No,” Allessandro said. “Everyone fears Carlo. That is different.”
Outside, sirens sounded in the distance.
Not police sirens.
Romano security vehicles returning from the gate.
Caleb stepped close. “We need to move now.”
Allessandro nodded.
“Take Emma and Marisol through the wine cellar tunnel. Use the old chapel safehouse.”
Caleb did not question how long it had been since anyone used that place.
He only said, “And Isabella?”
Allessandro looked at the woman who had almost become his wife.
She stared back, proud and terrified.
“Miss Vale stays with me,” he said.
Her face changed.
Because she knew then.
The cage had closed.
May you like
Not around Emma.
Around her.
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