Chapter 3
The atmosphere in the memorial garden plummeted from a sunny celebration to a freezing, suffocating tension. The bright video colors of the scattered, uprooted flowers stood in stark, morbid contrast to the dark, tailored suits of the men surrounding the terrace. Alessio stood tall, keeping Ruby cradled safely against his chest, his muscular frame serving as an impenetrable shield. His jawline hardened into stone, the sharp, angular planes of his face catching the cinematic light as his eyes locked onto the destroyed earth of his late wife’s sanctuary.
"I demand an answer," Alessio stated, his American accent ringing out with absolute, unquestionable authority. "Which one of you dared to desecrate this ground?"
Claudia, recovering her balance from being thrown, smoothed the front of her elegant garden-party outfit. Her fair, rosy cheeks were flushed with a toxic mixture of embarrassment and defiance. She opened her mouth to speak, to offer some twisted justification for the assault, but before she could utter a single word, Marco Hale stepped forward.
The forty-year-old associate moved with a calculated, arrogant swagger. He positioned his body directly between Alessio and the damaged, overturned flower beds, effectively blocking the Mafia boss's line of sight.
"It is nothing to get hysterical over, Alessio," Marco said, his voice dripping with condescension. He adjusted his luxury wristwatch, his polished leather shoes crunching over the scattered soil. "The gardeners were simply clearing out some dead overgrowth. The child is overreacting, as usual."
"You ordered the gardeners to rip out these specific beds?" Alessio asked, his voice dropping an octave, the controlled pauses in his speech highlighting the rising, lethal danger. "Without my explicit permission?"
Evelyn, standing near the edge of the terrace, looked absolutely terrified. The twelve-year-old girl backed away from her own mother, her flats sliding silently across the stone. She recognized the catastrophic shift in her uncle’s demeanor. "Mom, please," Evelyn whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Tell him the truth. Tell him what Marco was looking for."
"Shut your mouth, Evelyn!" Claudia snapped fiercely, shooting a venomous glare at her daughter. "Go back inside the house right now!"
Marco ignored the frightened child entirely. Fueled by a dangerous combination of hubris and ambition, he took another step toward the veteran Mafia boss. He believed that Alessio’s grief had made him weak, that the man holding the weeping toddler was no longer the ruthless killer who had built the Chicago empire.
"I am modernizing the estate, Alessio," Marco declared, raising his chin defensively. "You have let this property turn into a pathetic shrine. We need to expand the patio for the upcoming syndicate meetings. You are letting sentimentality blind your judgment."
To emphasize his misplaced dominance, Marco suddenly reached out and forcefully shoved Alessio’s shoulder. The physical contact sent a shockwave of collective horror through the observing capos and bodyguards.
"It’s just dirt," Marco said coldly, a mocking smirk twisting his fair, rosy features. "Leave it alone. The past is dead. Move on."
Alessio did not stumble. The shove barely registered against his deeply masculine, powerful frame. He stood perfectly still, his breathing slow and measured. He looked down at Ruby, pressing a gentle kiss to her wet forehead.
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"Close your eyes, my little bird," Alessio murmured softly, handing the trembling four-year-old safely into the arms of his most trusted, massive bodyguard standing just behind him. "Do not look until Daddy says it is safe."
As the bodyguard stepped back with the child, Alessio slowly turned his full, undivided attention back to Marco. The romantic, charming illusion of the veteran boss vanished entirely, replaced by the terrifying reality of a man about to commit extreme violence.
