Chapter 1 - The Dead Doctor
The identification number on the underside of the plastic bracelet was burned into Rocco Moretti's memory.
It was a string of nine digits that should have been buried five years ago in a private cemetery on the edge of the city.
The number belonged to a highly classified medical file created for his first wife, Isabella.
She had died in childbirth in a pristine, white hospital room at St. Helena Private.
The doctor had looked at Rocco with sorrowful eyes and told him the baby boy had not survived the trauma.
Rocco had paid for a closed casket and spent half a decade turning his grief into a weapon to conquer the underworld.
Now, that exact medical code was strapped to the wrist of a crying newborn pulled from a garbage bag in his own kitchen.
Rocco did not raise his voice.
He simply lowered his hand and let the small plastic band slip from his fingers.
"Thomas," Rocco said smoothly.
The consigliere immediately stepped away from the heavy oak dining table.
"Yes, Boss," Thomas replied.
"Call Dr. Aris at St. Helena," Rocco ordered.
"Tell him I want him standing in my foyer in exactly twenty minutes."
Thomas pulled a secure black cell phone from his tailored suit pocket.
Valentina stepped forward, her ivory silk robe rustling against the cold marble floor.
"Rocco, this is absurd," she argued softly.
"You are letting a maid's child disrupt the succession planning of the entire family."
"The succession planning just changed," Rocco said without looking at her.
He kept his cold eyes fixed entirely on the newborn in Sophia's arms.
The baby continued to whimper, completely unaware of the empire currently holding its breath around him.
Elena, the housekeeper, wrapped her arms protectively around her daughter's shoulders.
"I swear to you, Mr. Moretti, we did not know he was out there," Elena whispered frantically.
"Sophia just went out to empty the recycling bins before the storm got worse."
Rocco finally shifted his gaze to the terrified mother.
"Someone bypassed my security detail, walked past three armed guards, and placed a living child into my trash," Rocco stated clinically.
"That means a ghost is walking through my house, Elena."
Before Elena could defend herself again, Thomas cleared his throat loudly.
The sound was sharp and nervous.
Thomas Russo was a man who had negotiated with cartels without sweating.
Now, his face was the color of dirty snow.
Rocco turned his head slowly.
"Is the doctor on his way?" Rocco asked.
Thomas swallowed hard and looked down at his phone screen.
"I did not speak to Dr. Aris," Thomas replied.
"I spoke to the overnight nursing supervisor."
"And?" Rocco pressed.
"Dr. Aris cannot come to the mansion," Thomas said, his voice trembling slightly.
"He was found in his private office at the hospital twenty minutes ago."
"He had a single bullet in the back of his head."
The dining room plunged into absolute, deafening silence.
May you like
Rocco looked back at the crying newborn.
The lie that had shaped the last five years of his life was finally unraveling in blood.
