Chapter 4 - Playing with Fire
The next morning, the Moretti estate appeared calm on the surface, but beneath, it was a boiling cauldron of hidden tension.
Alejandro feigned weakness, pretending to recover from a "sudden cardiovascular incident." He remained in his private quarters, allowing news of his fragile health to leak out through Marco. As expected, Marco immediately relayed this information to Don Lorenzo Rossini.
Downstairs, Marco walked through the hallway, carrying himself with an arrogant smirk he barely bothered to hide. He believed Don Alejandro was on the brink of death and that within forty-eight hours, the Rossini family would march in and take over the estate. Marco would be rewarded with millions.
As Marco passed the grand staircase, he spotted Clara scrubbing the marble steps. He paused, looking down at her with disdain.
"Work faster, Clara," Marco sneered coldly. "Things are going to change around here very soon. And useless maids like you will be the first ones thrown out into the street."
Clara kept her head down, her heart pounding against her ribs. She remembered Alejandro's instructions from the night before: Act normal. Let him walk into the fire.
"Yes, Mr. Marco," Clara whispered softly.
Just then, little Emma came running down the hallway, clutching her stuffed rabbit. She bumped into Marco's leg, accidentally spilling a few drops of juice from her sippy cup onto his expensive leather shoes.
"Watch it, you little brat!" Marco snarled, raising his hand instinctively as if to strike the child.
"Touch her, and I will tear your arm off before you can scream."
A voice like thunder echoed from the top of the staircase.
Marco froze, his hand hanging in mid-air. He looked up, his face draining of all color.
Alejandro stood at the top of the stairs, clad in a sharp tailored suit, looking every bit the apex predator he was. Beside him stood Bruno, his eyes locked onto Marco with cold, promise-filled rage.
"D-Don Alejandro!" Marco stammered, his arrogant posture instantly collapsing into trembling fear. "I... I was just... the child spilled—"
"The child saved my life, Marco," Alejandro said smoothly, stepping down the stairs with slow, deliberate, agonizing precision. Each step sounded like a death march to the traitor's ears. "While you... were busy serving me poison."
Marco’s eyes went wide with sheer terror. "P-Poison? Boss, I don't know what you're talking about! I've been loyal to you for fifteen years!"
"Loyal?" Alejandro chuckled, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He pulled out his smartphone and clicked play on a video. He held the screen inches from Marco's face.
On the screen, Marco saw himself clearly pouring the poison into the wine glass, followed by the zoomed-in photo of his text conversation with Don Lorenzo.
Marco dropped to his knees, trembling violently, tears of pure horror streaming down his face. "Boss! Please! Don Alejandro, have mercy! Lorenzo forced me! He threatened my family! He offered me ten million dollars! Please!"
"You betrayed the man who fed you, Marco," Alejandro growled, his voice dropping to a terrifying register. "And worse... you threatened the child who brought me back from the grave."
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Before Marco could utter another plea, Bruno stepped forward, wrapping a heavy, gloved hand around Marco's throat and hauling him to his feet.
"Take him to the soundproof room in the cellar," Alejandro ordered coldly. "Keep him alive. He still has one final role to play in my game against Lorenzo Rossini."
