Chapter 3: The Threat
Vittorio’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
He pulled it out and saw a message from an unknown number. Attached was a photo.
It showed Renzo — Sophia’s father — tied to a metal chair inside what looked like an old warehouse. His face was bruised and bloodied, but he was still conscious. His eyes stared straight at the camera with a calm, almost defiant expression.
Below the photo was a short message:
“Get in the car. Or the gardener dies before sunrise.”
Vittorio stared at the screen for a long moment. Then he slowly put the phone back into his pocket.
Sophia was still looking at him, waiting.
“They sent you that, didn’t they?” she asked.
Vittorio nodded.
Sophia’s small hands tightened into fists.
“If you get in the car, they’ll kill you,” she said. “And then they’ll kill my papa anyway.”
“I know,” Vittorio replied.
He looked back toward the villa. Isabella was no longer outside. She had gone back inside, probably to wait for the sound of an explosion that would never come.
Vittorio turned to Sophia again.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I need you to stay here and stay hidden. Do not come out, no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”
Sophia nodded.
Vittorio reached into his jacket and pulled out a small gun. He checked it quickly, then tucked it back inside.
“I’m going to get your father back,” he said. “And then I’m going to deal with my wife.”
Sophia looked up at him.
“What if they kill you first?”
Vittorio gave her a small, cold smile.
“Then you run,” he said. “And you never look back.”
He was about to move when Sophia suddenly spoke again.
“Sir.”
Vittorio paused.
Sophia reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. She held it out to him.
“My papa told me to give this to you if something bad ever happened,” she said.
Vittorio took the paper and unfolded it.
It was a list.
A list of names.
Some he recognized. Some he didn’t. But at the very top of the list, written in Renzo’s handwriting, were two names that made his blood run cold:
Isabella Morelli
Alessio Morelli
Vittorio stared at the second name for a long time.
Alessio.
His younger brother.
The same brother who had supposedly died in an explosion two years ago during a territory dispute in Sicily.
Vittorio slowly folded the paper and put it into his pocket.
He looked at Sophia one last time.
“Stay hidden,” he said. “I’ll come back for you.”
May you like
Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the villa, leaving the little girl alone behind the cypress trees.
