Chapter 2 - The House of Vipers
By 4:00 AM, the storm outside had turned into a steady, freezing downpour.
The main drawing room of the Romano estate looked like a military command post. High ceilings, dark mahogany paneling, and massive oil paintings of long-dead syndicate bosses framed a room now filled with tension so thick it felt dangerous to breathe.
Seven people sat on the velvet couches arranged around the marble fireplace.
To the left sat Julian, Alessio’s younger brother—a man of thirty with slicked-back hair, wearing a cashmere sweater that looked too expensive for a man who claimed to manage the family's "charitable foundation." beside him was his wife, Beatrice, her face pale, her hands clutching a designer handbag like a shield.
To the right sat Marco, the head of security, his arm resting near his holster, his face scarred from a knife fight in Palermo ten years ago.
In the corner sat Gianna, Alessio’s older sister, her dark eyes sharp, watching everyone like a hawk calculating the value of prey.
I sat near the doorway, holding Leo tightly against my chest. He was asleep, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically, his tiny fist clutching my collar. Dr. Rossi had administered the treatment, and the infant was stable, but I refused to take him back up to the nursery.
Alessio stood before the cold fireplace, holding a silver laptop.
"The internal security log was wiped at 1:55 AM," Alessio announced to the room. His voice carried no anger. It was worse than anger. It was the dry, flat tone of a judge reading a death sentence. "Every camera on the second floor was looped for six minutes. The system requires an administrator security key to override."
Julian cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Alessio, brother, this is insane. Someone from the outside must have hacked the system. The rival syndicates in Chicago—"
"The server room is in the basement behind a biometric lock," Marco cut in, his voice gruff. "No outsider touched that console. I checked the perimeter sensors myself. Not a single wire was tripped."
"Which means," Gianna said, leaning back and lighting a thin cigarette, "the snake lives in this room." She blew a thin stream of gray smoke toward the ceiling and pointed her long, red-manicured fingernail straight at me. "Or maybe she sitting right there."
Every eye turned to me.
"She’s been here three weeks," Gianna continued, her tone sharp as a razor. "She’s the only person who is alone with the baby at night. How do we know she didn't plant that bead herself to play the hero and cement her place in this house? My brother is a powerful, wealthy widower. A clever nurse could easily play the long game."
I didn't flinch. I looked Gianna straight in the eyes.
"If I wanted your brother’s money, Ms. Romano, I wouldn't have called for an ambulance or preserved the evidence," I said calmly. "And if I wanted to kill Leo, I wouldn't have done it on a night when the entire estate was locked down for your family dinner. I would have waited for a rainy afternoon when Alessio was in the city."
"She’s right," Alessio said.
Gianna’s eyes narrowed. "You’re taking her word over your own blood?"
"I’m taking the evidence over your noise, Gianna," Alessio snapped. He set the laptop down on the table and picked up a clear glass vial containing the silver cylinder Dr. Rossi had extracted from the bead. "This micro-cylinder is a military-grade mechanical latch. It’s manufactured by a subsidiary of Vanguard Defense—a company based out of Milan."
Julian’s face visibly drained of color.
I caught the shift instantly. A subtle twitch in his right cheek. The way his fingers tightened against the armrest of the sofa.
"Julian," Alessio said softly, walking slowly toward his younger brother. "Didn't you fly to Milan last month to 'inspect our shipping logistics'?"
"Alessio, wait!" Julian stammered, raising his hands. "I went to handle the dock workers' union! I had nothing to do with Vanguard Defense!"
"Then why did your private credit account transfer fifty thousand euros to an offshore shell company registered to Vanguard’s head of sales three days before you left?" Alessio asked.
The room went dead quiet.
Beatrice gasped, pulling away from her husband as if he had caught fire. "Julian... what did you do?"
"I didn't!" Julian yelled, standing up frantically. "I didn't order a hit on the baby! I swear on our mother's grave! I was buying micro-scramblers for our cargo ships! I was trying to protect our shipments from the federal agents!"
"Lie," Marco growled, drawing his weapon in one fluid motion and stepping behind Julian.
"It’s not a lie!" Julian pleaded, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at Alessio. "Alessio, listen to me! Someone used my account! I gave my security key to—"
Julian stopped mid-sentence. His eyes drifted toward the side of the room. Toward his sister, Gianna.
Gianna didn't move. She took another slow drag of her cigarette, her expression completely unreadable.
May you like
Before Julian could finish his sentence, the heavy wooden doors of the drawing room burst open.
A young guard ran in, covered in sweat, holding a tablet. "Boss! We have a problem! The server room in the basement—it’s on fire!"
