“The Mafia Boss Let His Maid’s 5-Year-Old Daughter Borrow His Dog… Then She Revealed Why Someone Knocked on Her Door Every Night!”

Bruno disappeared through the hidden panel before anyone could stop him.

Dante followed, his pistol drawn, while Rossi and two guards entered the passage behind him. The corridor seemed narrower than before, its damp walls closing around them. Bruno moved quickly, nose close to the ground, following a trail nobody else could detect.

“Stay behind me,” Dante ordered.

Rossi nodded.

The passage turned sharply to the left, then descended a short flight of stone steps. At the bottom stood a rusted metal door leading into the estate's old wine cellar.

Dante stopped.

The wine cellar hadn't been used in years. Its entrance had been sealed during renovations, or so he had been told.

Bruno scratched at the door.

Dante tried the handle.

Unlocked.

He pushed it open.

Cold air rolled across the floor. Rows of empty wooden racks filled the room, and dust covered the old stone shelves. A narrow staircase at the far end led toward the greenhouse.

Near the bottom step lay something blue.

Dante approached slowly.

It was a small piece of fabric torn from the corner of a star-shaped pillow.

Sophie's pillow.

“Check the exit,” he ordered.

One guard rushed up the staircase. Rossi checked the cellar's narrow windows.

Nobody was there.

But Bruno was agitated now, circling the torn fabric and whining beneath his breath.

Dante crouched beside him.

“What is it, boy?”

Bruno lifted his head and stared toward a wooden storage cabinet.

Dante opened it.

Inside lay a small sewing kit, a bundle of old photographs, and a child's drawing folded into quarters.

The drawing showed a black dog standing beside a little girl. Above them, someone had written a message in uneven handwriting.

PAPA SAYS BRAVE PEOPLE PROTECT THE SMALLER PEOPLE.

Dante recognized the handwriting.

It belonged to Sophie.

He looked at the drawing again.

Then he noticed the initials in the bottom corner.

R.A.

Rafael Alvarez.

Rossi returned from the staircase.

“The greenhouse exit opens onto the eastern grounds. There are fresh tire marks outside the service gate.”

“Vehicle description?”

“Nothing useful. Whoever drove out kept the headlights off.”

Dante's jaw tightened.

The intruder had known the passage existed, knew where it led, and had moved through the estate without triggering an alarm.

This wasn't some stranger who had wandered into the wrong house.

It was someone who understood the Moretti security system.

Someone who had been here long enough to become comfortable.

Dante turned toward the staircase.

“Bring Elena to my office. Bring Sophie too, but don't frighten her.”

When he returned to the servants' wing, Elena was already waiting beside her daughter.

She looked as though she'd aged ten years in the last hour.

Sophie sat on the bed, her eyes red but dry. Bruno pressed his massive body against her knees.

“My pillow is gone,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Will I get it back?”

Dante knelt in front of her.

“I'll find it.”

“Promise?”

He paused.

Dante Moretti rarely made promises. In his world, promises were liabilities, and broken ones created enemies.

But Sophie was looking at him with the same trust she had shown when she asked to borrow Bruno.

“I promise.”

She nodded, accepting his word without hesitation.

Then she reached beneath the mattress and pulled out a drawing.

It showed a man with dark hair standing beside a red car. The man had a silver circle on his finger.

“That's the man who comes at night,” Sophie said.

Dante studied the drawing.

“Did you see his face?”

“No. But I saw his ring.”

Elena snatched the paper.

“Sophie, where did you see that?”

“In the door.”

The woman's fingers began trembling.

Dante looked at her.

“You recognize it.”

Elena closed her eyes.

For several seconds, she seemed unable to speak.

Then she whispered, “Rafael had one.”

Dante straightened.

“Your husband wore a ring like that?”

“Not exactly like that.” Elena stared at the drawing. “His was plain silver. He told me someone gave it to him, but he never said who.”

“Did he work in security here?”

Elena nodded reluctantly.

“Before he died.”

“Why wasn't that in your employment records?”

“Because I asked them to remove his name.”

“Why?”

Her voice broke.

“Because they said he stole money from the Moretti family. They said he sold information to your enemies, and when he tried to escape, he crashed his car.”

Dante remained silent.

“I didn't believe them,” she continued. “Rafael wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a thief. He loved Sophie more than anything. He would never have betrayed anyone and left us to suffer for it.”

She wiped her eyes.

“But I was frightened. I had a baby, no money, and nobody who would listen to me.”

Dante studied her face.

“Who told you he was a traitor?”

Elena hesitated.

Then she answered.

“Carlo Bellini.”

Dante's expression changed.

Carlo had been his father's closest adviser. He had guided Dante through his first dangerous years, handled negotiations, and helped maintain the family's alliances after the old man's death.

Dante trusted him.

Or at least, he had.

“Tell me everything you remember,” Dante said.

Elena glanced toward Sophie.

“Not in front of her.”

Dante agreed.

He left Rossi to guard the servants' wing and brought Elena downstairs. Before leaving, he looked back at Sophie.

“Bruno stays with you.”

She wrapped both arms around the dog.

“And you?”

“I'll be nearby.”

Dante had almost reached the door when Sophie called after him.