Carmen sat on the edge of Matteo’s bed, holding up the crumpled drawing with shaking fingers.
“Baby,” she said softly, “who’s this?”
Matteo sat cross-legged under his blanket, his stuffed bear clutched tightly to his chest. His small fingers fidgeted with the edge of the sheets.
“It’s just a drawing,” he mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes.
Carmen studied it again. Their faces were scribbled out in black crayon. Her throat tightened painfully.
“And this person here?” she pointed to the faceless figure. “Who is it?”
Matteo’s body tensed. “Nobody,” he whispered. Carmen’s heart hammered. “Sweetheart, you can tell me,” she pressed gently.
Matteo shook his head. “Nanny says secrets are important.”
Carmen’s breath caught. “You keep saying that, sweetheart. But what do you mean?”
Matteo glanced at the door, as if afraid someone might be listening.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled.
Carmen felt a chill crawl down her spine.
She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Okay, baby,” she whispered. “Sleep tight.”
But as she tucked him in and turned off the light, her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She needed answers. And she knew exactly where to start. Carmen found Ella in the kitchen, calmly drying a dish, humming softly to herself.
Carmen stepped forward, her chest tight with unease.
“I need to ask you something.”
Ella turned, offering her usual warm smile. “Of course, dear. What is it?”
Carmen held up the drawing.
“Matteo made this,” she said, watching Ella’s reaction closely.
Ella took the drawing, looking at it with a gentle chuckle.
“Oh, how sweet,” she murmured. “He’s such a creative boy.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted. “Who is this?” she pointed at the faceless man.
Ella tilted her head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Perhaps it’s someone from a story he imagined?”
Carmen crossed her arms. “And why are Marco and I scribbled out?”
Ella sighed softly, shaking her head.
“Oh, Carmen,” she said with a soft laugh. “Children have wild imaginations. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
Carmen’s nails dug into her palms.
“He said you told him secrets are important. He keeps telling me things that you taught him. Are you trying to make my son hate me?”
Ella paused. Just for a split second. Then—the same warm smile. The same patient voice.
“All I ever tell Matteo is that he is loved,” Ella said sweetly. “I would never say anything to make him upset.”
Carmen studied her. Ella was too calm. Too unbothered. Like she had already prepared for this conversation. Carmen forced a tight smile.
“Of course,” she murmured. But as she walked away, her gut told her one thing. Ella was lying.
***
Meanwhile, at Marco’s office,he sat at his desk, his fingers pressed against his temple, his phone gripped tightly in his other hand.
“Say that again,” he said, his voice dangerously low. The man on the other end hesitated.
“Boss, we just got word—Giovanni is out. He’s switching sides.”
Marco’s blood ran cold. “That’s impossible.”
Giovanni had been a trusted ally for years, one of the strongest backers of Marco’s empire. “Not anymore,” the man said grimly. “He cut all ties this morning. Word is, he’s been in talks with the DeLuca syndicate.”
Marco’s grip tightened. The same DeLuca syndicate he thought he had destroyed.
Someone was feeding them information. Someone inside his circle. Marco’s stomach twisted violently. “Find out who got to him,” he ordered.
“Yes, boss.”
Marco hung up, his heart pounding. One by one, his empire was falling apart. And he was running out of time to stop it.
***
Luca ended the call with Marco looking very worried. He sat in his car, a laptop balanced on his knees, his fingers flying over the keyboard.
He had spent days digging, searching, hacking. And finally—
He found it.
The financial reports for Marco’s businesses had been altered, leaked. Someone was funneling information out. Someone inside the house.
He grabbed his phone, about to call Marco—
Then he froze. Because outside, just a few feet away, he saw her. Luca stayed low, watching as Ella stood near the garden, her phone pressed to her ear. Her expression was different now—sharp, serious, unreadable.
And then—
She spoke. Not in English.
In a language Luca didn’t recognize. His heart pounded. He reached for his gun, stepping out of the car—ready to confront her.
But just as he moved closer—
Ella suddenly stiffened. Then, slowly, she turned her head. Luca froze. For a single second, their eyes met.
Ella hung up the phone. Her face calm. Unbothered. Knowing. Then, without a single word, she turned and walked back inside.