Chapter 4 - The Upper East Side Preschool
Saint Jude’s Academy for Early Learning occupied a stately brick building on the Upper East Side, surrounded by wrought-iron fences and manicured boxwood hedges. By 8:45 a.m., the sidewalk was crowded with mothers, fathers, grandparents, and children clutching construction-paper art projects.
A sleek black bulletproof Mercedes Maybach pulled up smoothly to the curb across the street.
In the front passenger seat, Marco Ricci adjusted his earpiece, his eyes scanning every pedestrian within a hundred-foot radius. Two blocks away, a backup unit of four Moretti operatives in an unmarked van monitored the traffic cameras.
“All clear on the east flank,” Marco spoke quietly into his comms. “Keep your eyes on the coffee shop down the block. Solanzio’s men were spotted near Lexington an hour ago.”
In the back seat of the Maybach, Aleandro opened the door and stepped out onto the Manhattan sidewalk, holding Sophia’s small hand securely in his.
The contrast was immediate. Among the corporate executives, Wall Street traders, and suburban fathers wearing Patagonia vests, Aleandro Moretti looked like a god of war dropped into a suburban playground. His six-foot-three frame, combined with the dangerous, predatory stillness in his stride, made several parents instinctively step back as he walked past.
Sophia, however, skipped happily beside him, swinging their joined hands back and forth.
“Look, Mr. Aleandro! There’s the slide!” she announced loudly, pointing toward the fenced-in courtyard behind the iron gates.
Several parents turned to stare. A mother holding a toddler whispered something to her husband, her eyes widening as she took in Aleandro’s broad shoulders, cold gray eyes, and the unmistakable aura of absolute authority radiating from him.
Aleandro ignored them entirely. His attention was focused solely on the small hand holding his.
They walked through the front doors of the school into a bright, colorful gymnasium decorated with hand-painted banners that read WELCOME FAMILY DAY!
Dozens of children were running around with paper crowns and juice boxes. At the center of the room stood Mrs. Gable, the head preschool teacher, holding a clipboard and greeting arrivals with a bright, professional smile.
As Aleandro and Sophia approached, Mrs. Gable’s smile faltered. Her eyes moved from Sophia up to Aleandro’s towering frame, taking in his cold expression and intimidating presence.
“Hello, sweetie,” Mrs. Gable said nervously, looking down at Sophia. “And... oh. Are you Sophia’s...?”
“I’m borrowing him for the day,” Sophia announced proudly before Aleandro could speak. “He’s very good at being in charge.”
Mrs. Gable swallowed hard, offering a strained, polite smile. “I see. Well... welcome to Family Day, Mr...?”
“Moretti,” Aleandro said, his voice deep and smooth, carrying a quiet command that made the teacher automatically straighten her posture.
Before Mrs. Gable could ask any more questions, a loud, obnoxious voice cut across the gymnasium.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace the common folk with his presence.”
Aleandro stopped. Every muscle in his body instantly went taut.
Standing near the juice station, wearing an expensive tailored suit that tried too hard to look casual, was Julian Vance—a mid-level real estate developer who laundered money for the rival Solanzio syndicate. Julian’s son was in Sophia’s class, and Julian himself had spent the last two months trying to muscle in on Moretti-controlled construction contracts in Queens.
Julian sneered, walking over with a smug, condescending grin on his face. He clearly didn't realize who he was talking to—or perhaps he thought doing this in a crowded preschool would provide immunity.
“I didn't realize the great Aleandro Moretti dabbled in finger-painting,” Julian mocked loudly, drawing the attention of several nearby parents. “What’s the matter, Aleandro? Running low on thugs, so you have to rent out a little girl to look respectable?”
The gymnasium went dead silent. Parents froze where they stood. Children stopped playing.
Maria Alvarez, who had arrived separately and stood near the back door, turned completely pale, her hands flying to her mouth in sheer terror. Everyone in the underworld knew what happened to people who disrespected Aleandro Moretti in public.
Aleandro slowly released Sophia’s hand. He crouched down, whispering something to her.
“Sophia, go look at the finger-painting table with Mrs. Gable for one minute. I need to talk to this man outside.”
Sophia blinked, looking between the two men. “Will you be back for the swing?”
“I promised you a swing,” Aleandro said quietly, his eyes softening just a fraction. “I never break my promises.”
May you like
She nodded happily and skipped away toward the art tables.
Aleandro stood up. The casual warmth in his expression vanished completely, replaced by a terrifying, predatory frost. He turned slowly to face Julian Vance.
