Chapter 15
The revelation hit the small bakery like a bomb. Dante Russo, a man who built an empire on calculated logic and brutal control, staggered backward as if he had been physically struck. His pale gray eyes widened, staring blankly at the weeping elderly woman holding her husband.
"Elena?" Dante whispered, the name tearing from his throat. "Elena was here? Four days ago?"
That was the day before she disappeared. The day before the police found her abandoned car with a shattered window and blood on the steering wheel.
Maya stood frozen near the door, keeping Sophia tucked safely behind her. The little girl had buried her face into the back of Maya’s legs, terrified of the loud voices. Maya gently stroked the child’s hair, trying to process the impossibility of the situation. Why would Elena Russo, the wife of a powerful mafia boss, be passing secret messages on a bakery receipt?
"Tell me exactly what happened," Dante demanded, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly calm. He stepped back up to the counter, leaning over the glass display case, trapping the Rossis in his intense gaze.
Mrs. Rossi was shaking violently, tears streaming down her wrinkled face. "She came in alone. She looked... frantic. She bought a box of cannolis for Sophia, like she always did. But when she paid, she handed me that receipt with the cash. She begged me to put it inside the box. She said it was a game for Sophia. A treasure hunt."
"A treasure hunt," Dante repeated, his jaw clenching so tight the muscles ticked. "And you didn't think to mention this when she went missing? When my men scoured this city looking for her?"
"We were terrified!" Mr. Rossi gasped, clutching his chest. "Your men are monsters, Mr. Russo. If we told them your wife was acting crazy in our shop, we thought they would kill us for being involved."
Dante stared at the elderly couple, his mind racing. If Elena had written the note, She knows everything, who was she referring to? Herself? Or Sophia? And why use a bakery receipt that belonged to Maya’s dream shop?
Maya looked down at Sophia. The little girl was peeking out from behind Maya’s legs, staring at the glass display case. Slowly, deliberately, Sophia reached out and pointed a tiny finger at the tray of cannolis.
Dante turned his head, following his daughter’s gaze. He looked at the pastries, then back at the receipt in his hand. The realization dawned on him slowly, and then all at once.
"The box," Dante said, his voice urgent. "Where is the box the pastries came in?"
He looked at Maya, his eyes desperate. "Sophia had the receipt. Where is the box?"
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Maya frowned, trying to remember the chaotic night at the restaurant. "I... I don't know. When I met her, she only had the plate of pasta. I didn't see a box."
Dante cursed loudly, slamming his fist onto the glass counter. "She hid it. Elena knew she was being watched. She hid something in that box, and Sophia knows where it is."
