Chapter 4 - THE WHITE FACE
Every trace of color drained from Clara Vance’s face.
Her skin turned a pale, chalky white under the bright chandelier lights. Her lips parted in shock, her breath catching violently in her throat. Her eyes, which had been soft and filled with maternal warmth just seconds ago, widened with an intense, terrifying realization. She didn't pull her hand away from Leo's grip, but her entire body went rigid as stone.
Rico Moretti saw the sudden, radical shift in the waitress's demeanor. His instincts, forged in two decades of high-stakes crime and constant betrayal, flared instantly.
Rico took a sharp step forward, his heavy leather shoes coming within inches of where Clara was kneeling on the floor. His broad frame cast a dark shadow over her and the child.
Dante immediately shifted his position, his eyes scanning Clara’s face with intense, dangerous scrutiny. His hand twitched toward his coat flap.
"What did he say?" Rico demanded. His voice was no longer soft or vulnerable; it was a cold, sharp blade that cut through the silence of the dining room.
Clara didn't answer right away. She slowly raised her head, her brown eyes locking onto Rico’s face with an expression of profound shock and deep, unreadable horror. She stared at the crime boss as if looking at a man who was walking into a trap without knowing it.
"I..." Clara stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I..."
"Answer me," Rico growled, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer, his dark eyes burning into hers. "What name did my son just whisper to you?"
Before Clara could utter a single word, before her trembling lips could formulate the answer, five-year-old Leo turned his head away from Clara's cheek.
The young boy looked directly into his father's eyes. His expression was no longer panicky, sad, or distant. It was eerily calm, possessing an unnatural, terrifying clarity that no five-year-old child should ever hold.
Leo opened his mouth to repeat the name directly to his father.
"He said—" Leo began, his small voice clear and audible.
CRASH!
At that exact microsecond, across the main dining room near the kitchen doors, a busboy accidentally dropped a metal tray loaded with four glass carafes and porcelain coffee cups. The catastrophic noise of breaking glass and clattering metal echoed violently off the high coffered ceiling, drowning out the sound of the boy's voice entirely.
The sudden crash caused half the restaurant guests to gasp and turn their heads toward the kitchen doors.
Dante instinctively turned his head toward the noise, his hand going deep inside his jacket as his tactical training kicked in to assess a potential threat.
Rico, however, did not turn his head. He did not look at the kitchen. He did not look at the broken tray.
May you like
He kept his eyes locked squarely on his son’s lips as the boy finished pronouncing the single name.
Rico’s face instantly turned as white as the marble floor beneath his feet.
