But he did not order his death.
He removed him from the organization and allowed the courts to decide his future.
The decision shocked the old families.
Some called it weakness.
Others called it madness.
Alessandro did not care.
For the first time in his adult life, he had found something more important than the opinions of men who measured power by fear.
His daughters.
The estate changed.
The security remained, but the atmosphere became different.
The west wing was opened.
Lucia's piano was restored.
The garden was filled with flowers.
The staff were allowed to play music in the kitchen.
Alessandro stopped holding business meetings in the house.
And every evening, no matter what happened during the day, he came home before dinner.
The girls noticed.
They noticed everything.
One afternoon, Isabella sat beside him in the garden.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are you sad?"
Alessandro looked at her.
"Sometimes."
"Because of Mommy?"
He nodded.
She thought about that.
Then she placed a small flower in his hand.
"Mommy liked flowers."
"She did."
"Do you think she can see us?"
Alessandro looked toward the sky.
"I don't know."
Isabella frowned.
"That's not a very good answer."
He smiled faintly.
"No. It isn't."
Sofia came running across the lawn.
"Daddy! Look!"
She held a drawing.
It showed three people standing beneath a large yellow sun.
A tall man.
Two little girls.
And a woman with long brown hair.
Alessandro stared at it.
"Who's this?"
"Mommy."
"And these?"
"Me and Isabella."
He pointed toward the tall figure.
"Who's that?"
Sofia smiled.
"You."
Alessandro took the drawing carefully.
"Where is Mr. Buttons?"
Sofia looked down.
Then she laughed.
"He is in the house."
"Then we have to get him."
The girls ran toward the door.
Alessandro remained seated.
For a long time, he looked at the drawing.
Then he folded it carefully and placed it inside his jacket beside Lucia's letter.
That evening, he entered the west wing alone.
The piano stood beneath the window.
He sat down.
He had not touched the keys in three years.
Lucia had taught him a simple melody when they first married. He had never learned to play it properly, but she had always insisted that he was improving.
He placed his fingers on the keys.
The first notes came out unevenly.
He stopped.
Tried again.
The melody slowly returned.
From the hallway came the sound of small footsteps.
"Daddy?"
Alessandro turned.
The twins stood in the doorway wearing their pajamas.
Isabella held Mr. Buttons.
Sofia rubbed her eyes.
"That's Mommy's song."
Alessandro nodded.
"Yes."
"Can we listen?"
He moved slightly on the bench.
"Come here."
The girls climbed beside him.
For the first time in three years, the piano room was filled with the sound of Lucia's favorite melody and the voices of her daughters.
Alessandro played slowly.
He made mistakes.
The girls laughed.
He tried again.
Outside, the estate remained guarded. The iron gates were locked. Men watched the perimeter, and the world beyond the walls continued to fear the Moretti name.
But inside that room, none of it mattered.
There was no boss.
No empire.
No enemies.
Only a father trying to remember how to be a father.
When the melody ended, Sofia rested her head against his arm.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Are we safe now?"
Alessandro looked at her.
He thought about the men who still wanted his position. The organizations that had not forgiven him. The unfinished business waiting beyond the gates.
He could not promise that the world would never hurt them.
He could not promise that danger would never return.
But he could promise something else.
He could promise that they would never have to face it alone.
He kissed Sofia's forehead.
"I will spend every day making sure you never have to wonder."
Isabella leaned against his other arm.
"Even when you're working?"
"Especially then."
The girls smiled.
Alessandro looked toward Lucia's photograph.
For three years, he had believed that the house was haunted by the memory of the woman he had lost.
Now he understood something.
Lucia had not left behind a curse.
She had left behind a choice.
He could continue being the man his enemies feared.
Or he could become the man his daughters needed.
The empire would survive without his attention for a few hours.
His daughters would not remain five years old forever.
He placed his hands on the piano keys again.
"One more time?" Isabella asked.
Alessandro smiled.
"One more time."
And as the first notes filled the room, two little girls began to sing the melody their mother had taught them.
For the first time since Lucia's death, Alessandro Moretti did not look toward the door.
He stayed.