Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Four Years AgoThe east wing suite was larger than the entire apartment Rosa had grown up in in Queens. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long, golden rectangles across hand-knotted Persian rugs and plush cream-colored sofas.
Rosa sat on the edge of a massive king-sized bed, holding a warm cup of chamomile tea that a nervous kitchen maid had brought her twenty minutes ago. Lily was sound asleep in the center of the bed, wrapped in a high-thread-count duvet, her stuffed rabbit, Bun, tucked safely under her chin.
Rosa stared down at her daughter, her hands trembling so hard the tea sloshed against the porcelain rim.
How had it come to this?
Four years ago, Rosa had not been a maid at the estate. She had been a young, ambitious archival assistant working for the New York Historical Society, hired privately by Alessandro’s father before his passing to catalog the Moretti family’s extensive collection of Renaissance art and private historical documents.
She remembered the night vividly. It was a torrential rainy evening in November. Alessandro had just returned from a bloody, secret summit in Chicago—his face bruised, his clothes soaked, carrying the heavy, crushing weight of taking over the family Donship after his father’s sudden stroke.
He had walked into the library, exhausted, bleeding from a shallow cut on his temple, expecting to find an empty room. Instead, he found Rosa, huddled over a stack of 18th-century land deeds under the warm light of a desk lamp.
That night, the impenetrable Don had broken down. He didn't act like a mob boss; he acted like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline. They had talked for hours about history, about his mother, about the heavy chains of duty. Honesty had turned into comfort, and comfort had turned into an explosive, passionate fire that neither of us could put out.
By dawn, reality had returned like a sledgehammer. Alessandro had been called away to an emergency meeting in Miami, leaving before she woke up. And two weeks later, when Rosa realized she was pregnant, she also learned the terrifying truth of the world Alessandro lived in: three rival lieutenants had been assassinated in broad daylight on Mulberry Street.
Terrified for the innocent life growing inside her, Rosa had resigned from her archiving job. But she couldn't leave the estate entirely—she had no money, no family, and nowhere to hide from the Moretti intelligence network. So she made a desperate deal with Mr. Bruno: she returned months later under a maiden name, taking a low-level maid position in the sprawling west wing, hiding in plain sight where no one would ever suspect the powerful Don’s child was living among the dust cloths and laundry baskets.
For four years, the plan had worked. Alessandro had been locked in high-level syndicate wars, rarely visiting the service wings, while Rosa raised Lily in quiet, hidden peace.
Until Isabella Romano arrived.
The sudden sound of heavy footsteps outside the bedroom door pulled Rosa from her memories.
The heavy oak door swung open, and Alessandro stepped into the room. He had changed out of his casual shirt and into a dark, tailored suit. His expression was calm, but the intense energy radiating from him filled the room instantly.
He walked over to the bed, completely ignoring Rosa for a moment, and stood looking down at the sleeping child. Slowly, hesitantly, as if afraid his rough skin might hurt her, he reached out and touched a single, soft curl of dark hair resting on Lily’s forehead.
A strange, soft expression crossed his rugged features—a look of such pure, unadulterated devotion that Rosa felt a painful lump form in her throat.
“She looks so much like her,” Alessandro whispered, his eyes never leaving the little girl’s face. “My mother had that exact same small turn at the corner of her lips when she slept.”
“Alessandro…” Rosa began softly.
He turned to look at her, stepping away from the bed so as not to wake the child. He pulled a heavy leather-bound file from inside his suit jacket and placed it on the nightstand beside her tea.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It is a full legal trust, a new passport, and legal citizenship documents for both you and Lily,” Alessandro said evenly. “Under the law, she is now recognized as Lily Moretti. My sole legal heir.”
May you like
Rosa gasped, dropping her cup onto the saucer with a loud clatter. “Are you out of your mind?! You can't just give her your name! Vincent Romano will lose his mind when he finds out!”
“Vincent Romano already knows,” Alessandro said coldly, pulling out his encrypted satellite phone and tossing it onto the bed. “He called me five minutes ago. Isabella told him everything.”
Related Stories
