Chapter 2 - the velvet ribbon in the dark
The heavy mahogany doors of Vittorio's private library clicked shut, sealing out the silent, bewildered guests still gathered in the grand foyer.
Inside, the room was bathed in the dim amber glow of a burning hearth. Vittorio stood behind his massive oak desk, his hands resting flat on the leather surface. His black suit jacket was unbuttoned, his crisp white shirt open at the collar as he fought to maintain the emotional grip he had cultivated over forty years of ruling the underworld.
Bianca walked gracefully around the perimeter of the room, running her fingertips along the spine of leather-bound books as if she already owned every inch of the estate.
"You think you can parade me around as your trophy and throw me away the moment your daughter cries?" Bianca asked, her voice silky and unbothered. "You owe me respect, Vittorio."
"I owe you nothing," Vittorio said coldly, his voice thick with restraint. "You gave a speech eight years ago claiming you knew nothing about Elena's crash. You wept at her memorial."
Bianca turned around, her ivory gown catching the firelight. "I wept because it was tragic. But tragic things happen when a woman interferes with business that doesn't belong to her. Elena was naive, Vittorio. She thought your strength could protect her from the people you worked with."
Vittorio leaned forward, his heavy gold signet ring gleaming under the desk lamp. "What do you know about that night, Bianca? Speak now, or you won't leave this room on your feet."
Bianca chuckled softly, stepping closer to the desk without a trace of fear. "If you harm me, my attorneys have instructions to release an encrypted drive to the federal prosecutor's office. On that drive is a voice recording from the night Elena died. A recording that proves your own family was involved. Imagine what that would do to little Maisy... learning her mother died because of the men she calls uncles."
Vittorio’s jaw set like iron. His daughter was his entire world, the last clean thing in his blood-soaked life. He could handle any threat, any rival, any war—but he could not bear the thought of Maisy’s spirit being crushed by the dark truth of her mother's murder.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Vittorio didn't take his eyes off Bianca. "Enter."
Leo stepped inside, holding Maisy's small hand. The eight-year-old girl looked calm now, though her eyelids were slightly red from crying. She wore her soft cardigan over her pale-blue dress, her small silver bracelet glinting against her wrist.
"Boss," Leo said quietly. "Maisy wanted to give you something before I took her upstairs."
Maisy let go of Leo's hand and walked across the carpet toward her father. She didn't look at Bianca. She reached up and placed a soft piece of pale blue velvet ribbon into Vittorio's large palm.
"I found it on the stairs when I fell, Dad," Maisy whispered softly. "It came off her dress."
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Vittorio looked down at the ribbon in his hand. Tucked inside the delicate folds was a tiny silver key, no larger than a thumbnail, stamped with a small Roman numeral IV.
Bianca's eyes darted down to Vittorio's hand, and for the very first time, her poisonous smile faltered.
