Chapter 2 - The Secret Marco Had Been Keeping
Maria moved first.
She put Sophia down and stepped between us.
“Enough.”
I had never heard a housekeeper speak to me that way.
Marco apparently had.
“Maria—”
“No.”
Her eyes were wet but furious.
“You promised me.”
Marco lowered his voice.
“I promised to protect you.”
“You promised Sophia would never hear this.”
Sophia looked confused.
“Hear what?”
Maria immediately crouched.
“Nothing, sweetheart.”
I pressed the intercom.
“Rosa.”
My senior housekeeper answered.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Come to the study.”
Thirty seconds later, Rosa appeared.
I nodded toward Sophia.
“Take her to the kitchen.”
Sophia frowned.
“But Mr. Moretti—”
“Do you like cookies?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Rosa has cookies.”
Rosa understood immediately.
“Chocolate chip.”
Sophia’s eyes widened.
She took Rosa’s hand.
At the door she turned.
“You’re still coming tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Promise?”
I hated promises.
They created leverage.
But I said it anyway.
“Promise.”
The door closed.
I turned to Marco.
“Start talking.”
He did.
Miguel Alvarez had been one of Marco’s drivers.
Reliable.
Quiet.
He transported documents, cash, occasionally people.
Nothing high-level.
Then eight months earlier, Miguel called Marco late at night.
“He was scared,” Marco said.
“Of what?”
“He wouldn’t tell me on the phone.”
“And then?”
“He never made it to our meeting.”
Maria stood by the window.
“Police came to our apartment at two in the morning.”
Marco continued.
“They ruled it cardiac arrest.”
“At thirty-four?”
“He had a congenital heart condition.”
“So why suspect murder?”
Marco reached inside his jacket.
Slowly.
He removed his phone.
Opened a saved voicemail.
Miguel’s voice filled the room.
“Marco, something’s wrong. Somebody inside Moretti’s operation is moving money through Queens. I found names. If anything happens to me, check—”
The recording stopped.
I stared at him.
“That’s it?”
“The rest corrupted.”
“Who knew about the voicemail?”
“Me.”
“Only you?”
“Yes.”
“Why hide it?”
Marco looked toward Maria.
“Because whoever Miguel discovered knew where his family lived.”
Maria finally turned.
“Three days after Miguel died, someone left an envelope under our apartment door.”
“What was inside?”
“A photograph of Sophia.”
My expression hardened.
“Why wasn't I told?”
Maria laughed bitterly.
“Because I didn't know who you were.”
“You worked in my house.”
“I took this job after Miguel died.”
That caught me.
“Why?”
She hesitated.
Marco answered.
“Because I put her here.”
I turned on him.
“You did what?”
“I needed somewhere protected.”
“You used my estate as a safe house without telling me?”
“Yes.”
I walked toward him.
Any other man would have backed away.
Marco didn't.
“You compromised my security.”
“I protected a widow and a three-year-old.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“Every day for eight months.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His answer came immediately.
“Because Miguel died protecting something connected to us. I owed his family.”
Maria stared at him.
There was something in her expression I understood now.
Gratitude.
But also fear.
“Is that all?” I asked.
Marco looked at me.
“What?”
“Is obligation the only reason you’ve been watching Maria?”
His silence answered.
Maria whispered, “Mr. Moretti.”
Marco said nothing.
I almost laughed.
Ten years.
The man could lie to federal investigators without blinking.
One question about a housekeeper and suddenly he had forgotten language.
Maria folded her arms.
“There is nothing between us.”
Marco glanced at her.
She caught it.
“Marco.”
“Nothing,” he agreed.
Poorly.
I returned to the desk.
“Who was Miguel investigating?”
“We don’t know.”
“You’ve had eight months.”
“I've been searching quietly.”
“And?”
“Three names keep appearing.”
“Give them to me.”
Marco did.
I recognized all three.
One was dead.
One had disappeared.
The third was Anthony Bellini.
My Queens captain.
A man who had sat at this table less than twenty minutes earlier.
I remembered Sophia entering.
Twelve men staring.
Marco glancing at her.
But someone else had reacted too.
Bellini.
He had dropped his cigarette.
At the time, I’d ignored it.
Now I didn't.
“Did Bellini know Miguel?”
Marco nodded.
“Yes.”
Maria went pale.
I reached for my phone.
Marco stopped me.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“If Bellini realizes we know, Maria and Sophia become targets again.”
“They already are.”
“And tomorrow you’re taking Sophia into public.”
Maria stepped forward.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Family Day is canceled.”
“No.”
Her surprise was obvious.
“I promised her.”
“This isn't about a promise anymore.”
“It is to her.”
Maria stared at me.
“You don't understand.”
“Explain.”
“For eight months, that little girl has watched people leave.”
Her voice became quieter.
“Her father left one morning and never came home. We moved apartments. She lost her daycare. She lost friends. Every time something goes wrong, I tell her plans changed.”
Maria wiped her cheek.
“Tomorrow she finally has a plan she's excited about.”
Marco said, “Maria, it's dangerous.”
“So is teaching my daughter that fear gets to decide everything.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Marco.
“Double security.”
“Boss—”
“Plain clothes. Nobody gets close enough for Sophia to notice.”
Marco understood.
“And Bellini?”
I looked toward the closed door.
“Invite him to breakfast tomorrow.”
Marco’s eyebrows rose.
“Here?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“And what do I tell him?”
“The truth.”
May you like
I smiled without humor.
“Tell him I’m taking a three-year-old to preschool.”
