Chapter 6 - The Viper in the Syndicate
By the time I turned six, the wars of the underworld had quieted down, but the political maneuvering within the Moretti syndicate remained as cutthroat as ever.
Alejandro ruled with an iron fist, but factions within the elder council were growing restless. They whispered behind closed doors that the syndicate was growing "soft," pointing to the presence of a maid and her young daughter living in the executive suite as proof that the boss was losing his edge.
One rainy Tuesday afternoon, while Mama was downstairs assisting with a major charity banquet hosted at the mansion, I snuck out of our suite with my stuffed rabbit tucked under my arm. I wanted to find Alejandro in his study to show him a drawing I had made of his mansion.
As I approached the double oak doors of the study, I noticed they were slightly cracked open.
Inside, men were speaking in low, venomous tones.
"...you're making a mistake keeping them here, Alejandro," growled the gravelly voice of Uncle Victor—not a real uncle, but one of the founding capos of the syndicate, an old-school mobster who wore heavy gold rings on every finger. "The council is losing confidence. A maid's brat running through the halls of the Moretti estate? It makes us look weak."
I froze in the doorway, my heart dropping into my stomach.
I expected Alejandro to explode in fury, to throw the man out or draw his weapon.
Instead, the study fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. When Alejandro finally spoke, his voice was so cold it felt like liquid nitrogen pouring across the floorboards.
"If any man in this syndicate ever refers to Emma as a 'brat' again," Alejandro said softly, every word enunciated with crystal-clear precision, "I will personally drag him down to the basement cells, tie him to a chair, and let him reflect on his manners until his hair turns white. Do I make myself crystal clear, Victor?"
A heavy swallow echoed from inside the room.
"Clear, Boss," Victor muttered, his voice laced with venom and humiliation.
"Good," Alejandro replied. "Now get out of my sight."
I quickly stepped back into the shadows as Uncle Victor stormed out of the study, his face red with suppressed rage, brushing right past me without looking down.
A moment later, Alejandro opened the door fully, intending to clear the hallway. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me standing there, holding my drawing of a crooked house and a very tall stick-figure man in a suit.
His fierce, terrifying expression vanished instantly, replaced by a soft, vulnerable warmth that only I ever got to see.
"Emma," he murmured, stepping out into the hallway and kneeling down. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," I whispered, holding out the paper. "I drew you a house. With a big fence so nobody can get in."
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Alejandro took the paper with both hands, looking at the clumsy crayon strokes as if it were a priceless Renaissance painting. A genuine, rare smile touched the corners of his lips.
"It's the best house I've ever seen," he said softly, lifting me up into his arms. "And don't worry about what you heard, little one. As long as I'm breathing, nobody will ever touch you."
