Chapter 4 - WHEN ALEJANDRO WOKE
Alejandro Moretti woke to the sound of machines pretending to be calm.
Beep.
Hiss.
Beep.
Hiss.
His throat burned. His chest felt bruised from the inside. Every breath scraped. He opened his eyes to white ceiling tiles, cold light, and the sharp smell of antiseptic.
For a moment, he did not know where he was.
Then he remembered the glass.
The wine.
The fist closing in his throat.
Rafael in the doorway.
The child.
Blue to the sky.
Orange to the thigh.
Alejandro turned his head.
Pain split across his neck.
Bruno was beside the bed instantly.
“Easy.”
Alejandro tried to speak.
Only a rasp came out.
Bruno held a cup with a straw. “Small sip.”
Alejandro drank. The water tasted like metal and survival.
“Emma,” he forced out.
Bruno’s expression changed.
“She’s safe. Sleeping in the family waiting room with her mother. Your mother is with them.”
Alejandro closed his eyes.
The relief was so sharp it almost hurt.
“Rafael?”
“Contained.”
That was not the same as captured.
Alejandro opened his eyes.
Bruno understood.
“He’s in the west holding room at the estate with six men watching him. Two of those men are mine. Four are questionable.”
“Keene?”
Bruno’s jaw tightened. “At the hospital. Tried to reach you. We stopped him.”
Alejandro’s fingers curled against the blanket.
“Footage?”
“We pulled it.”
Silence stretched.
Alejandro watched his old friend’s face.
“What did it show?”
Bruno looked at the closed hospital door.
“The rabbit camera caught Rafael entering the study at 4:31 p.m. He wore gloves. He took the glass from the side table, wiped the rim, applied something from a vial, then poured the wine. You entered at 4:34. He stepped into the adjoining library before you saw him.”
Alejandro stared at the ceiling.
He had trusted many men he should not have trusted.
But Rafael was blood.
Not good blood.
Not loyal blood.
Still blood.
“And after?”
“You drank. Reaction began within minutes. Rafael waited outside the hall until you fell. He entered after the glass broke.”
“To make sure.”
“Yes.”
Alejandro swallowed.
“Emma saw.”
“She saw enough.”
The machines kept beeping.
“What else?”
Bruno hesitated.
That hesitation told Alejandro there was more pain coming.
“Say it.”
“The private archive had older files from the rabbit camera. Most corrupted. Some recoverable.”
Alejandro’s gaze sharpened.
“Older?”
“From before you shut the system down.”
“How old?”
Bruno’s voice lowered.
“The week Kiara died.”
Alejandro went absolutely still.
Outside the room, hospital carts rolled past. A nurse laughed softly somewhere far away. Life had the cruelty to continue around men who had lost everything.
Alejandro’s voice came out barely audible.
“What did you see?”
“We haven’t reviewed it all.”
“Bruno.”
The older man’s eyes grew heavy.
“One clip shows Rafael in the study with Carlo Benedetti.”
Alejandro’s pulse jumped on the monitor.
Carlo Benedetti.
The driver.
The man blamed for taking the wrong route the day Kiara died.
The man found dead two weeks later in an apparent accident before Alejandro could question him properly.
Bruno continued.
“They argued. Rafael handed him an envelope.”
Alejandro could not move.
For three years, he had believed his daughter’s death was the cost of being Alejandro Moretti’s child. A rival attack. A message from enemies. A mistake inside a war.
But if Rafael had paid Carlo before that day—
A sound came from Alejandro’s throat that made Bruno reach for him.
“No,” Bruno said firmly. “Not now. You stay alive first.”
Alejandro’s eyes burned dry.
“My daughter.”
“I know.”
“No.” Alejandro’s hand gripped Bruno’s sleeve with surprising strength. “You do not know.”
Bruno bowed his head.
For once, he had no answer.
The door opened softly.
Valentina Moretti entered.
Behind her stood Lena Carter, holding Emma in her arms.
The child looked smaller in the hospital light. Her curls were tangled. Her eyes were swollen from sleep and crying. The rabbit backpack hung from Lena’s shoulder now, stained faintly where wine had touched one ear.
Alejandro’s grip on Bruno loosened.
Emma looked at him.
“You’re awake.”
Alejandro tried to sit up.
Every adult moved at once.
“Don’t,” Lena said.
The word came out before she remembered who he was.
Bruno froze.
Valentina lifted one eyebrow.
Lena flushed. “I’m sorry. I meant—”
Alejandro raised one hand slightly.
No apology needed.
Emma wiggled until Lena set her down. She approached the bed slowly, as if worried he might break.
“Does your breathing hurt?” she asked.
Alejandro nodded.
“Mine hurts after too,” she said. “But then Mommy gives me popsicles.”
Valentina turned her face away.
Bruno suddenly became very interested in the wall.
Alejandro’s mouth almost moved into a smile, but it hurt too much.
Emma reached into her backpack and pulled out her stuffed rabbit.
Its floppy ear was stained pink.
“This is Mr. Bun,” she said. “He helped too.”
Alejandro looked at the rabbit.
Then at the child.
His voice scraped out like stone.
“You saved me.”
Emma shook her head.
“The pen did.”
“You chose to use it.”
She looked down.
“It was my last one.”
Alejandro closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the softness was gone from his face. What replaced it was not cruelty.
It was decision.
“Bruno.”
“Yes.”
“Emma Carter never runs out of medicine again.”
Lena stiffened. “Mr. Moretti—”
He turned his gaze to her.
“And she never hides from her father again.”
The room went silent.
Lena’s face lost color.
“How do you know about that?”
Alejandro looked at Bruno.
Bruno nodded once.
“We checked the estate gate logs,” Bruno said. “Darren Pike came to the service entrance eleven days ago asking for you. Someone on staff told him your schedule.”
Lena’s hand flew to Emma’s shoulder.
“No.”
“Yes,” Bruno said.
Alejandro’s voice dropped.
“Inside the house.”
Valentina’s eyes hardened.
“Then Rafael was not only preparing to kill you,” she said. “He was gathering leverage over the woman whose child saved you.”
Lena looked from one face to another.
“I don’t understand. Why would anyone care about me?”
Alejandro’s gaze stayed on Emma.
“Because traitors plan for everything except goodness.”
He lifted his hand with effort.
Emma placed her tiny fingers in his again.
Alejandro Moretti, feared by men who carried guns and judges who avoided his name, made a vow from a hospital bed to a four-year-old girl with a rabbit backpack.
“No one touches you,” he whispered.
Emma did not understand the weight of those words.
May you like
But every adult in the room did.
And somewhere across the city, Rafael Moretti was already making his next move.
