Chapter 3 - The Interrogation That Wasn’t
Massimo waited patiently, refusing to break eye contact, while Bruno stepped out from the shadows near the towering bookshelves, leaning his massive shoulders against the mahogany paneling. Luciano entered quietly through the double doors, holding a glass of scotch, his sharp gaze flickering between Elettra and the half-eaten toast. The three most feared men in the city surrounded her, not with weapons or threats, but with a suffocating, hyper-focused attention that felt infinitely more terrifying. Elettra knew she couldn't maintain the innocent waitress facade much longer under their collective scrutiny.
“My name is Elettra Moretti,” she began, her voice raspy from exhaustion but surprisingly steady as she forced herself to sit upright. “And I’m not a professional caterer. My cousin Violetta dragged me into this because my landlord locked me out this morning, and the boutique salary barely covers my groceries, let alone the security deposit on a safe apartment.” She met Massimo’s gaze directly, refusing to shrink back. “You think I’m a liability, a spy, or just collateral damage. But I know how to keep my mouth shut because survival has been my full-time job since I was sixteen.”
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Bruno crossed his arms, his expression shifting from guarded skepticism to a flicker of grudging respect. He remembered the fierce, desperate grip she had on his sleeve when she whispered her plea. Luciano chuckled softly, swirling the amber liquid in his glass as he stepped closer. “A girl who works three jobs, faints from sheer starvation, yet looks us dead in the eye without flinching? That’s not a terrified waitress, Massimo. That’s someone running from a very heavy past.”
Massimo stood up slowly, walking over to the fireplace where the dying embers cast a warm glow across his sharp features. He picked up the heavy silver tray Elettra had dropped earlier, turning it over in his hands. He had noticed the way her fingers instinctively traced the balance point of the heavy silver, a skill no ordinary café worker possessed. Without turning around, he softly challenged her story, pointing out the subtle tells that proved she was hiding a much bigger secret—one that intersected directly with the shipments Cattaneo had been botching earlier that evening.
