Chapter 3 - The shadows in the nursery
Night fell over the Romano estate, casting long, dramatic shadows across the manicured lawns. The bright, warm colors of the interior seemed muted under the heavy atmosphere of distrust. Domenico sat in a leather armchair in the corner of Sofia’s nursery, his dark suit jacket removed, revealing the dark tattoo that stretched up his forearm. Sofia was fast asleep in her crib, breathing softly in her pale pink pajamas.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Vance, Domenico’s head of security, stepped inside silently, holding a thick manila folder.
"Boss," Vance whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the child. "We ran the serial numbers on the vase and checked the security feeds from the main hall over the last six months."
"And?" Domenico asked, his sharp eyes never leaving the doorway.
"Marco and Camilla have been moving around the house at odd hours," Vance reported. "Three weeks ago, Marco brought a specialist into the study—a guy who specializes in forging official state seals. We traced the guy back to an office in Queens."
Domenico’s jaw tightened. "So the paper I pulled from the vase wasn't just hidden. It was copied."
"Looks that way," Vance agreed. "And there's something else. The doctor whose signature appears on that yellowed registry... he died in a hit-and-run accident two weeks after Sofia was born."
Domenico stood up, his tall, muscular frame radiating a chilling aura. "A hit-and-run. How convenient."
Suddenly, the nursery door creaked open further. Marco stood in the hallway, his shirt still open at the collar, a glass of scotch in his hand. He tried to project a casual confidence, but his eyes were darting toward the desk where Domenico’s jacket hung.
"Just checking on the baby," Marco said, stepping into the room. "Camilla is worried sick downstairs. She feels terrible about what happened earlier, Domenico. She was just stressed about the gala this weekend."
"Stress doesn't make a woman strike a child, Marco," Domenico said, stepping between Marco and the crib. "And you don't check on a baby with a glass of whiskey in your hand at midnight."
Marco took a slow sip, his aggressive demeanor flaring up again. "You're running this house like a prison camp, Domenico. Ever since you took over the family business, you think you own everybody in it. Camilla is your sister. I'm your brother-in-law. You can't treat us like foot soldiers."
"I treat loyal people like family," Domenico said coldly, stepping closer until he towered over Marco. "And I treat snakes like targets. Get out of this room before I throw you down the stairs."
Marco clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping to Domenico’s jacket pocket. "That paper doesn't prove anything, Domenico. It's just old ink."
"Then why are your hands shaking?" Domenico countered softly.
May you like
Marco glared at him for a long moment, swallowed the rest of his drink, and backed out into the hallway. Domenico watched him go, then turned to Vance.
"Double the guards on the nursery," Domenico ordered. "And tell the driver we're visiting St. Jude's Memorial at first light."
