For the next twenty minutes, Alessandro Moretti did nothing except help his daughter cut strawberries and listen to her explain why Mr. Buttons needed a new button.
He had attended meetings with senators.
He had negotiated with men who controlled entire ports.
He had sat across from people who could destroy his business empire with one telephone call.
None of those conversations had required as much attention as breakfast with Emma.
And somehow, he found himself wanting more.
***
Isabella was waiting in the living room when he arrived.
She had changed into a clean sweater.
Her wrist was bandaged.
She looked exhausted.
"Emma's eating," he said.
"I heard."
"She's happy."
Isabella looked toward the bedroom.
"She deserves to be."
Alessandro sat opposite her.
"We need to talk."
"I know."
"About the past."
She nodded.
He placed the letter on the table.
"I want to know everything."
Isabella looked at the paper.
Then she began.
She told him about the night Vittorio's men came to her apartment.
She described the threat.
The photographs.
The money offered to make her disappear.
The warning that Alessandro would be killed if she tried to contact him.
She told him about discovering the pregnancy.
About giving birth alone.
About raising Emma while working two jobs.
About moving from one apartment to another whenever unfamiliar cars appeared outside.
She told him about the first time Emma asked why she did not have a father.
And about the photograph she had kept inside a book.
"I told her you were a good man who had made some bad choices."
Alessandro looked down.
"That was generous."
"It was the truth."
He raised his eyes.
"Do you still believe that?"
Isabella took a long time to answer.
"I believe you were capable of being better."
He nodded.
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
He looked toward the windows.
"Vittorio will come after us."
"I know."
"He won't stop."
"I know that too."
Alessandro leaned forward.
"Then let me protect you."
Isabella looked directly at him.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life hiding behind armed men."
"You won't have to."
"That's what you say now."
He accepted the criticism.
"Then tell me what you need."
She seemed surprised.
"What?"
"Tell me what would make you feel safe."
Isabella studied him.
For years, she had imagined this conversation.
In some versions, she screamed at him.
In others, she walked away.
Sometimes she imagined him begging her to return.
But she had never imagined him asking what she needed.
"I need Emma to have a normal life."
Alessandro nodded.
"I can arrange that."
"I need her to go to school without guards frightening her."
"Agreed."
"I need you to stop treating every problem as something you can solve with money or threats."
He looked at her.
"That may take longer."
"Then start."
He almost smiled.
"All right."
She lowered her voice.
"And I need to know whether you're going to choose your family or your daughter when this becomes difficult."
Alessandro did not hesitate.
"Emma is my family."
Isabella held his gaze.
"Your uncle is your family too."
"Not anymore."
The words came quietly.
But they were final.
***
Marco arrived at noon.
He carried a thick folder.
"Boss."
Alessandro took it.
"What did you find?"
"The security company is only the surface. Vittorio has been using three separate companies to monitor Isabella."
"Who financed them?"
"Money moved through the Moretti foundation."
Alessandro frowned.
"That foundation is supposed to support hospitals and children's charities."
"Some of it does."
"And the rest?"
Marco opened the folder.
"Payments to private investigators. Security contractors. Two former police officers. One hospital administrator."
Alessandro turned a page.
Then another.
He stopped.
"Who's this?"
Marco looked down.
"Dr. Samuel Harris."
Isabella had been listening from the sofa.
She stood immediately.
"That's my doctor."
Alessandro looked at her.
"He worked at St. Mary's?"
"Yes."
Marco nodded.
"He received payments for medical information."
Isabella covered her mouth.
"He knew?"
"We believe so."
She sat down slowly.
Alessandro continued reading.
"Who else?"
Marco hesitated.
"There's a second name."
"Say it."
"Daniel Russo."
Alessandro looked up.
Daniel had worked for him for eleven years.
He was the chief financial officer of the family business.
He had been present during the final months of Alessandro and Isabella's relationship.
He had helped arrange the search when Isabella disappeared.
He had even attended the memorial dinner Alessandro held for her.
"Are you certain?"
"The records show regular transfers from a company controlled by Vittorio."
Alessandro closed the folder.
"Bring him in."
Marco nodded.
Isabella looked at him.
"Alessandro, don't do anything reckless."
He turned.
"He's been helping my uncle."
"I know."
"He's been watching our daughter."
"I know."
"He helped keep you away from me."
Her voice became quiet.
"Then make sure you understand why before you decide what happens next."
Alessandro looked at her for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"All right."
***
Daniel Russo arrived at the Moretti residence at 2:15 p.m.
He was fifty-two, impeccably dressed, and known for his ability to remain calm under pressure.