Chapter 2 - The Whispers In The Scullery
The kitchens of the Moretti estate operated with the ruthless precision of a military hospital. Steam hissed from iron kettles, copper pans hung like rows of polished shields, and the scent of rosemary, charred oak, and simmering veal stock permeated the thick stone walls. Anna Rossi stood over a heavy maple chopping block, her slender wrists moving in rhythm as the knife diced leeks into immaculate paper-thin ribbons. Her dark hair was pulled back into a simple knot, a few stray curls clinging to her temples damp with sweat.
Beneath her eyes lay bruises of exhaustion that no amount of cold water could disguise. For weeks, sleep had been nothing more than an elusive shadow. Every time she closed her eyes, the electronic chime of her prepaid burner phone echoed in her skull. Five thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars. Penalty fees compound weekly. If you run, little bird, we find your girl first. The threats were delivered in a flat, oily cadence that smelled of cheap cigars and stale whiskey.
""Anna, dear, you're slicing those fine enough for lace,"" Mrs. Higgins chided gently as she passed by with a tray of polished silver creamers. The older housekeeper rested a grandmotherly hand on Anna's trembling forearm. ""Are you taking your vitamins? You look as though a stiff sea breeze could carry you clear over the sound.""
""Just tired, Mrs. Higgins,"" Anna whispered, forcing a fragile smile that didn't reach her pale gray eyes. ""Sophie woke up with a slight cough last night. I stayed up reading to her until the fever broke.""
""That child is an angel, but you work yourself down to the bone,"" the housekeeper clicked her tongue softly. ""Eat some of the broth before Mr. Moretti comes down for his afternoon tea. He has visitors from Jersey coming through the side entrance. You know how the master gets when people linger in the corridors.""
Anna nodded stiffly, keeping her head bowed until the swinging wooden doors settled shut. As soon as she was alone in the prep pantry, she reached into her apron pocket, her fingers brushing against the cold plastic casing of the disposable phone. It was eleven-thirty. At nine o'clock, the ring would come again. She had pawned her mother's cross, her wedding band, and two pairs of winter boots, scraping together barely nine hundred dollars—barely enough to cover the interest on her deceased husband's gambling tab. Julian had died of an overdose in an alley behind an off-track betting parlor, leaving his sins wrapped around his widow's neck like a noose.
The kitchen door creaked open, and Anna jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. Sophie slipped through the pantry curtain, carrying her empty school satchel. The girl's eyes were huge and unusually bright, though her small mouth remained set in a grave, secret line.
""Sophie!"" Anna gasped, dropping to her knees and pulling the little girl into her arms, burying her nose in the child's wool collar. ""What are you doing here? Mrs. Higgins said you were supposed to stay in the library annex after your tutor left.""
""I was hungry, Mama,"" Sophie lied softly, her small hand reaching up to stroke Anna's hollow cheek. ""And I wanted to see you.""
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Anna pressed a frantic kiss against Sophie's forehead, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter had just stood face-to-face with the most feared criminal syndicate leader on the eastern seaboard. ""Stay close to me, darling. Eat your bread. Mama will fix everything. Mama is going to take care of it, I promise you.""
Sophie leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, silent, her fingers gripping the pocket of her oversized coat where Dante's silence still echoed like thunder.
