Chapter 1 - The Warm Milk
Clara stopped at the edge of the marble table and completely ignored the mafia boss.
She slowly lowered herself until she was exactly eye level with the screaming toddler.
Leo kicked his small feet against the heavy wooden chair, his face entirely red and stained with tears.
Clara did not speak loudly or try to forcefully grab his thrashing arms.
She gently pushed the glass of warm milk across the white linen tablecloth.
She softly whispered that it was okay to be scared when the world felt too loud.
Leo stopped screaming abruptly, his chest heaving with heavy, exhausted hiccups.
He stared at the glass of milk and then looked deeply into Clara's tired eyes.
The entire restaurant held its collective breath as the little boy slowly reached out his hand.
He did not push the glass away or try to shatter it on the expensive floor.
Instead, his tiny fingers bypassed the milk and tightly gripped Clara's wrist.
He pulled her hand directly to his tear-stained cheek and leaned into her soft palm.
He closed his eyes and whispered a single, heartbreaking word that echoed in the silent room.
He called her Mama.
Rico Moretti froze completely, his hand dropping away from the concealed weapon inside his jacket.
He stared at the young waitress in absolute, unadulterated shock.
Clara felt a profound sadness for the boy, but she knew she had overstepped her boundaries.
She carefully pulled her hand away and quickly stood up to retreat to the safety of the kitchen.
Rico suddenly reached across the table and aggressively grabbed her arm before she could take a single step.
As her sleeve rode up, Rico saw a small, jagged tattoo inked directly onto her inner wrist.
It was a black serpent eating a white rose.
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Rico's eyes darkened with terrifying, lethal recognition as he stared at the ink.
That was the exact symbol of the syndicate that had murdered his wife six months ago.
