Chapter 7 - The Night of the Ashes
Don Moretti’s hands began to shake. He looked at the little girl in the duck socks, his heart slamming violently against his ribs.
"Saved her?" the Don choked out, desperate for the truth.
Rosa nodded, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Three years ago, on the night of the fire. I was in the nursery. I heard the back gates open. I looked out the window and saw Miss Isabella standing in the courtyard, handing a stack of money to men wearing coats with those exact gold buttons."
Isabella staggered backward, her face completely devoid of color. The steaming teacup slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble stairs in a spectacular crash, the dark liquid pooling like blood.
"They set the fire to the west wing," Rosa sobbed, the trauma of that horrific night flooding back. "Your wife... she knew they were coming. She handed the baby to me through the smoke. She told me to hide her. She told me to protect the heir."
Rosa looked down at Lily with pure, maternal devotion.
May you like
"I ran to the servant's quarters," Rosa explained. "I hid her in a laundry bin. When the smoke cleared, Isabella told everyone the baby perished in the crib. I was too terrified to speak. I knew Isabella would kill us both. So I raised her as my own in the basement, waiting for the day I could find proof of what Isabella did."
👉 The mafia boss had just been handed his murdered wife's ultimate gift, and his vengeance was about to be biblical.
