Chapter 2: The Investigation Begins
Chapter 2: The Investigation Begins
The following morning, the Rossi estate woke before sunrise.
Servants moved silently through marble hallways.
Fresh flowers replaced the wedding arrangements.
Security teams rotated shifts without exchanging more than a few words.
To anyone looking from the outside, nothing had changed.
Inside the mansion, everything had.
Dante Rossi had slept exactly forty-three minutes.
He sat alone in his private office overlooking Boston Harbor, a cup of untouched black coffee growing cold beside a stack of reports. Rain still streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the city into a blur of steel and gray.
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
Luca Moretti entered carrying a thick leather folder.
"I've got everything we could find."
Dante looked up.
"Everything?"
Luca hesitated.
"Everything that still exists."
Dante leaned back.
"Explain."
Luca laid several photographs across the desk.
"Aria Sterling. Twenty-two years old. Graduated top of her class from St. Catherine's Academy."
Another photo.
"Degree in Political Science."
Another.
"Volunteer work."
Another.
"Charity galas."
Another.
"Magazine interviews."
Every photograph showed the same woman.
Elegant.
Perfect.
Always smiling.
Dante stared at them.
"I don't believe a single one."
Luca nodded.
"Neither do I."
He opened the folder.
"Because this woman doesn't exist."
He slid forward another stack of papers.
"The first strange thing?"
"There are almost no medical records."
"None?"
"Only routine physicals."
"No broken bones."
"No emergency visits."
"No surgeries."
"No prescriptions."
Dante frowned.
"Impossible."
Luca nodded.
"Exactly."
"Nobody reaches twenty-two without seeing a doctor."
He placed another document on the desk.
"We contacted three hospitals."
"They all admitted Aria had been treated there."
"But?"
"The records are gone."
"Gone?"
"Deleted."
"Legally sealed under federal authorization."
Dante's eyes darkened.
"Who has that kind of authority?"
Luca answered quietly.
"Her father."
Silence filled the office.
Across the mansion...
Aria slowly opened her eyes.
For several seconds she didn't remember where she was.
Then she saw the unfamiliar ceiling.
The crystal chandelier.
The enormous bedroom.
The wedding dress folded neatly across a chair.
Memory rushed back.
The wedding.
The bruises.
Dante.
She immediately sat upright.
She expected shouting.
Orders.
Punishment.
Instead...
Nothing.
Only silence.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
She froze.
"Come in," she whispered automatically.
The door opened just enough for an elderly housekeeper to enter.
She smiled warmly.
"Good morning, Mrs. Rossi."
Aria blinked.
The woman carefully wheeled in a breakfast cart.
Fresh fruit.
Warm croissants.
Scrambled eggs.
Tea.
Orange juice.
The aroma alone made Aria realize she hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.
The housekeeper arranged everything beside the window.
"If there's anything else you need, please ring the bell."
Aria stared.
"...That's all?"
The woman looked confused.
"Of course."
"Aren't...aren't you waiting?"
"For what?"
"For me to finish."
The housekeeper smiled kindly.
"No, Mrs. Rossi."
"This is your breakfast."
"You may enjoy it whenever you wish."
She quietly left.
The door closed.
Aria remained frozen.
No one counted how many bites she took.
No one inspected the plate.
No one reminded her she didn't deserve dessert.
Tears filled her eyes before she even understood why.
She reached for the tea.
Her hands shook so badly that the cup rattled against the saucer.
A memory flashed through her mind.
She was eleven.
She had accidentally spilled tea during breakfast.
Her father hadn't yelled.
He had smiled.
Then calmly ordered every servant to leave the room.
After they left...
He had forced her tiny hands against the hot porcelain kettle until she screamed.
"You'll remember not to be clumsy again."
She still remembered the smell of burned skin.
Aria quickly pulled her hands away from the teacup.
Her breathing became uneven.
"No..."
"It's over."
She whispered the words to herself.
But her body refused to believe them.
Meanwhile...
Dante entered the estate's private security center.
Dozens of monitors displayed every corner of the property.
Luca enlarged footage from the previous evening.
"Watch this."
The video showed Aria arriving after the wedding ceremony.
She stepped out of the limousine.
Perfect posture.
Perfect smile.
Then—
For less than two seconds—
Her father leaned close.
No audio.
Only video.
Edward Sterling's hand tightened around her elbow.
Hard.
Too hard.
Aria visibly flinched.
The smile returned before cameras noticed.
Luca froze the image.
"You see that?"
Dante did.
Edward wasn't guiding her.
He was warning her.
Threatening her.
Without saying a word.
Dante spoke quietly.
"Zoom in."
The image sharpened.
For a fraction of a second...
Edward's lips formed four words.
Luca read them aloud.
"Don't embarrass me."
The office fell silent.
Another knock.
One of Dante's intelligence officers hurried inside.
"Boss."
"What?"
"We found something else."
He handed over an old newspaper clipping.
Dated sixteen years earlier.
A charity event.
Edward Sterling.
His wife, Eleanor.
A little girl.
Aria.
She couldn't have been older than six.
The officer pointed toward the photograph.
"Look at her left wrist."
Dante narrowed his eyes.
A tiny white bandage.
"In every photograph taken that month..."
The officer spread five more pictures across the table.
"...it's there."
Every picture.
Same wrist.
Same bandage.
For weeks.
Children healed quickly.
Unless...
Someone kept reopening the wound.
Luca slowly exhaled.
"This wasn't discipline."
"This was systematic abuse."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Keep digging."
"We're just getting started."
That afternoon...
Aria finally left the bedroom.
She expected armed guards to stop her.
None did.
She wandered through the enormous mansion almost cautiously, as though every hallway might hide another trap.
Instead, she found a library larger than her university's.
A music room with a grand piano.
A greenhouse filled with orchids.
Children's toys stacked neatly inside a playroom.
She frowned.
Why would a mafia mansion have a playroom?
An elderly gardener noticed her curiosity.
"Mr. Rossi built it."
She looked surprised.
"For whose children?"
The gardener smiled.
"For the neighborhood."
"Every Christmas, hundreds of local children come here."
"He gives them presents himself."
Aria stared.
"That...can't be right."
The gardener chuckled.
"Most people don't know the real Mr. Rossi."
"He prefers it that way."
As evening approached, Dante stood alone on the mansion's balcony.
The rain had finally stopped.
Boston glittered beneath the setting sun.
Luca stepped beside him.
"We uncovered another problem."
"What now?"
"We interviewed everyone who ever worked in the Sterling household."
"And?"
"They're all terrified."
"No one will speak."
"They all resigned within three months."
"The longest-serving employee stayed less than a year."
Dante remained silent.
Then Luca added the sentence neither of them wanted to hear.
"Except one."
Dante turned.
"Who?"
"The former nanny."
Luca handed him a faded address.
"She disappeared fourteen years ago."
"No forwarding address."
"No bank activity."
"No death certificate."
"It's like she vanished."
Dante studied the paper for a long moment.
Finally, he folded it and slipped it into his coat pocket.
"Prepare the helicopter."
Luca frowned.
"For tonight?"
Dante's expression became unreadable.
"If someone spent fourteen years making sure the truth stayed buried..."
He looked toward the bedroom window where a faint light still glowed.
"...then we're already running out of time."
Far across the city...
Inside his private penthouse office...
Senator Edward Sterling stood before the fireplace, swirling a glass of whiskey.
One of his security men entered nervously.
"Sir..."
Edward never looked up.
"Speak."
"Mr. Rossi has started asking questions."
A slow smile appeared on Edward's face.
"I expected he would."
"Should we stop him?"
Edward finally turned.
His eyes held no warmth.
"No."
"Let him dig."
The smile widened.
"He has no idea what he'll find."
He tossed another folder into the fire.
Inside were dozens of medical reports.
Psychological evaluations.
Photographs.
Evidence.
The flames consumed them one page at a time.
Edward watched until the last document turned to ash.
Then he whispered to the empty room,
"The dead should stay buried."
But neither he nor anyone else knew...
One file had never reached the fire.
And by morning...
May you like
It would be sitting on Dante Rossi's desk.
End of Chapter 2
