Chapter 1 - The Circle on the Glass
The heavy oak desk inside Vittorio Romano’s penthouse office overlooking the Boston harbor was lit only by a single brass lamp. Rain streaked down the floor-to-ceiling glass, blurring the distant lights of the cargo ships waiting in the harbor.
Vittorio was fifty-six, a man who had built his own shipping empire not through corporate efficiency, but through leverage, threats, and calculated ruthlessness. For fifteen years, he had tried to break Alessandro Moretti’s stranglehold on the North End docks. But Alessandro had always been a fortress—cold, ruthless, paranoid, and completely untouchable because he cared for no one and trusted no one.
A man with no attachments had no soft tissue to strike.
Vittorio’s lead investigator, a tall, shadowy man named Marco, stood silently by the mahogany bookshelf.
"You're certain about the girl?" Vittorio asked, his voice low, raspy, and calculating as he twirled his black fountain pen.
"She’s six years old. Name’s Emma Rossi," Marco replied, tossing a manila folder onto the desk. "Her father was Thomas Rossi—the crane operator who died at Dock 4 during the autumn storm two years ago. Sophia Rossi is his widow. She’s been working as a temporary housekeeper at Moretti’s Beacon Hill estate for less than a month."
Vittorio looked down at the photograph again. He traced his thumb over the black circle he had drawn around Emma’s face. In the image, Alessandro Moretti—the man who had ruined union leaders and brought billionaire investors to their knees without blinking—was kneeling on the wet grass of his private garden, holding the handlebars of a pink secondhand bicycle while a little girl giggled.
"Alessandro doesn't let staff onto his lawn," Vittorio murmured, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. "He doesn't smile. He certainly doesn't fix children's bicycles. The old lion has finally found a heart. And a heart is a dangerous thing to carry into a war."
"What are your orders, boss?" Marco asked. "Do we move on the harbor contract dispute first?"
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"No," Vittorio said, leaning back into his leather chair. "The harbour contract is business. This is leverage. Alessandro is scheduled to sign the exclusive ten-year port lease with the city council on Friday. He thinks he’s bought every vote. But if something... unfortunate... were to happen to the little girl or her mother, Alessandro will sign whatever contract I put in front of him."
Vittorio tapped the photograph with his pen. "Follow them. Find out where the mother lives in East Boston. Learn her routine. When the time is right, we won't even need to draw a gun. We just need Alessandro to know that his fortress has a open gate."
