Chapter 2 - Stop the Wedding
Lucia Moretti’s hand remained on Emma’s shoulder.
“My son,” she said again.
Alessandro looked at his mother.
There were questions in her eyes, but there was also something worse.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
A cold awareness moved through him.
“You know something.”
Lucia’s fingers tightened around the child’s pale-blue dress.
Before she could answer, the chapel doors opened.
Every guest turned.
Isabella Romano appeared beneath the carved stone arch with her father at her side.
She wore a gown created by a designer who had flown from Milan for three private fittings. White silk fell from her shoulders in clean, perfect lines. Diamonds glimmered at her throat. Her veil covered her dark hair and softened a face magazines had once called aristocratic.
She took three steps into the garden.
Then she saw Emma standing beside Alessandro.
Her smile did not disappear.
It changed.
Only slightly.
A narrowing of the eyes.
A pause between breaths.
The shiny face.
Alessandro saw it now.
Isabella recovered immediately and continued down the aisle, one hand resting on her father’s arm.
Vittorio Romano was sixty-two, silver-haired and broad-shouldered, with the calm expression of a man who had never been forced to explain himself. His shipping companies operated in twelve countries. His charitable foundation appeared in society pages. His enemies tended to lose contracts, licenses, or courage.
He looked from Alessandro to the silent musicians.
“What is this?” Vittorio asked.
Alessandro did not answer him.
He looked at Isabella.
“Did you put your hands on Sophia Carter?”
The question traveled across the garden more effectively than a gunshot.
Three hundred guests stopped breathing at once.
Isabella’s expression became wounded confusion.
“Sophia?”
“The woman who works in my house.”
“I know who she is.”
“Did you grab her wrist in the library three days ago?”
Vittorio stepped forward.
“This is neither the time nor the place.”
Alessandro’s gaze remained on his bride.
“It is exactly the time.”
Isabella looked toward Emma.
For one second, hatred entered her eyes naked and unprotected.
Then the veil returned.
“My love, I have no idea what that child told you, but she is three years old.”
Emma moved closer to Lucia.
Alessandro noticed.
So did his mother.
Isabella raised both hands carefully.
“There was an accident in the library. Sophia dropped a vase. I helped her clean it. You saw us.”
“I saw the ending.”
“That was the entire event.”
“The child says you pushed the vase.”
A quiet laugh escaped Isabella.
Not amusement.
Disbelief shaped for an audience.
“You are stopping our wedding because a servant’s toddler misunderstood a broken vase?”
“No.”
Alessandro turned toward Marco.
“Lock the estate.”
Marco did not hesitate.
He touched the microphone beneath his collar.
“Close all vehicle gates. No guest, employee, contractor, or family member leaves the grounds without direct authorization.”
Murmurs spread through the crowd.
Several men reached instinctively for their phones.
Alessandro spoke again.
“Disable outside access to the security system. Preserve every camera file from the last ninety days. No deletion. No remote login. No exceptions.”
This time Marco paused.
It lasted less than one second.
But Alessandro saw it.
“Problem?” he asked.
Marco’s face remained expressionless.
“No.”
“Then do it.”
Marco issued the order.
Isabella lifted her veil away from her face.
“This is humiliation.”
“If the child is mistaken, the archive will prove it.”
“And when it does?”
“Then I will apologize to you in front of every person here.”
Her eyes hardened.
“And the wedding?”
Alessandro looked toward the chapel, the priest, the flowers, the guests who had traveled from three continents to witness an alliance between two powerful families.
“The wedding does not begin until I know what happens in my own house when I leave the room.”
Vittorio’s mouth flattened.
“You are allowing a maid to jeopardize a union that took two years to negotiate.”
“I am allowing the truth seven minutes.”
Lucia inhaled sharply.
Alessandro turned to her.
“What do you know?”
His mother looked past him toward the mansion.
“Not here.”
“That answer is no longer acceptable.”
Isabella stepped between them.
“Lucia has been anxious for months. You know that. Your mother never wanted this marriage.”
Lucia’s face went pale.
Alessandro saw another exchange.
Isabella looked at Lucia.
Lucia looked away.
Fear.
His mother was afraid of the woman he had nearly married.
“Marco,” Alessandro said, “take my mother and Emma to the west study.”
“No,” Emma whispered.
Everyone near them heard her.
The child clutched Lucia’s dress with one hand and pointed toward the service entrance with the other.
“Mommy.”
Sophia was no longer beneath the awning.
The silver tray lay overturned on the stone.
Pastries were scattered across the ground.
Alessandro’s eyes moved to the open service door.
“Where is she?”
No one answered.
He crossed the lawn.
The guests divided before him.
Marco followed, speaking rapidly into his microphone.
“North corridor team, locate Sophia Carter. Kitchen level, laundry passage, servants’ wing. Check every exit.”
Alessandro entered the mansion through the service door.
The corridor smelled of sugar, floor polish, and fresh-cut flowers. A kitchen assistant stood frozen beside a cart of champagne.
“Where did Sophia go?”
The young man pointed toward the pantry hall.
“A woman asked her to help with the bridal case.”
“What woman?”
“I didn’t see her face.”
Alessandro continued down the corridor.
The bridal preparation room stood at the end.
The door was partly open.
Inside, garment bags hung from brass hooks. Makeup cases covered a long table. A bottle of perfume had shattered on the floor.
Sophia’s black shoe lay near the window.
There was blood on the heel.
Alessandro stopped.
Marco entered behind him.
“Search the room.”
Two guards moved immediately.
One checked the dressing screen. Another opened the adjoining bathroom.
Empty.
Alessandro crouched beside the shoe.
A small piece of white paper had been pushed beneath it.
He lifted it by the corner.
Three words had been written in black ink.
OPEN THE ARCHIVE.
Below the message was a time.
11:43 A.M.
Alessandro checked his watch.
11:39.
Four minutes.
“Get me into the security control room,” he said.
Marco stared at the note.
“Sir, this may be designed to move you away from the guests.”
“It was designed to make certain I see something.”
“And Sophia?”
“Find her.”
Alessandro turned toward the door.
Marco did not move.
That hesitation returned.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But this time Alessandro was watching for it.
“Why are you still standing there?”
Marco’s eyes lifted to his.
“The archive is already open.”
Silence filled the room.
“What did you say?”
“At eleven thirty-five, someone accessed the oldest security server beneath the east wing.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“You said outside access was disabled.”
“It was an internal terminal.”
Alessandro’s voice dropped.
“How many people can reach that server?”
Marco did not answer immediately.
“Four.”
“Names.”
“You. Me. Your mother.”
“And the fourth?”
Marco looked toward the chapel garden visible through the window.
“Isabella Romano.”
Alessandro folded the note in his hand.
Outside, the chapel bell began to ring.
Not for the ceremony.
Three slow strikes.
The estate’s internal emergency signal.
A guard’s voice exploded through Marco’s radio.
“Mr. Rizzi, we found Sophia Carter.”
Alessandro took the device.
“Where?”
A burst of static answered him.
Then the guard spoke.
“In the old security room.”
“Is she alive?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
The answer should have brought relief.
It did not.
The guard continued.
“But she isn’t alone.”
Alessandro’s fingers tightened around the radio.
“Who is with her?”
“No one, sir.”
“You said she wasn’t alone.”
The guard swallowed audibly.
“There is someone on the archive recording.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“Who?”
May you like
The guard’s next words turned the room cold.
“Your father.”
