Chapter 11
The glowing screen of the encrypted phone cast a harsh, pale light over Alessandro’s sharply defined jawline. The warning was clear. The Moretti family had not retreated to lick their wounds; they had struck immediately. Alessandro slipped the phone back into his tailored pocket, his expression morphing into a mask of pure, sociopathic calculation.
"Dante," Alessandro commanded, his voice a low, vibrating hum that commanded absolute obedience. "Mobilize the strike teams. The southern docks are under attack."
"Right away, Boss," Dante replied, his American accent clipped and professional. He immediately reached for his radio. "How many men are we taking?"
"Fifty. Heavily armed," Alessandro stated smoothly. He turned on his polished leather shoes, moving swiftly down the pristine, brightly lit corridor toward his private study.
He pushed the heavy oak doors open. Livia was sitting on the leather sofa, her rosy cheeks resting against a plush pillow as she dozed peacefully. Rosalie stood guard beside her, her crisp maid uniform impeccable.
"Mr. Rizzano," Rosalie whispered, her fair skin pale with anxiety. "Is everything alright?"
"The estate is going on full lockdown, Rosalie," Alessandro said gently, ensuring his deep voice wouldn't wake the three-year-old. "Do not leave this room. I have men stationed outside the door. You are to protect her with your life."
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"I will not let anyone touch her, sir," Rosalie promised fiercely.
Alessandro offered a single, respectful nod. He turned and walked back out into the cinematic light of the hallway, drawing his suppressed sidearm. It was time to extinguish the fire Bianca had started.
