CHAPTER 2 — THE MAN WHO HAD FORGOTTEN HOW TO SMILE
CHAPTER 2 — THE MAN WHO HAD FORGOTTEN HOW TO SMILE
The little girl tilted her head as if the answer were the simplest thing in the world.
"Because..." Sophie said softly, "...sad people forget to look at flowers."
The man frowned.
"What?"
"You've been sitting here a really long time." She pointed toward the flower box hanging beneath Russo's restaurant window. Bright red geraniums swayed gently in the summer breeze. "Everybody else looked at them. You never did."
Silence.
The city noise faded behind them.
Car horns.
A distant subway rumble.
Someone laughing across the street.
None of it reached the patio table anymore.
For the first time in almost fifteen years...
Luca Moretti didn't know what to say.
Every newspaper in New York had a different nickname for him.
The Ghost of Brooklyn.
The King Without a Crown.
The Devil in Italian Shoes.
Police detectives spent careers trying to prove he ordered murders.
Federal agents built task forces around his organization.
Judges refused to meet his eyes.
Politicians secretly accepted his money while publicly condemning organized crime.
No witness who testified against the Moretti family ever remained in New York for long.
Some disappeared.
Some changed identities.
Some simply vanished from history.
Fear followed Luca like a second shadow.
Yet none of those people...
Not one senator.
Not one detective.
Not one rival crime boss...
...had ever asked him if he was sad.
Luca looked down at the steaming spaghetti.
Fresh basil.
Homemade marinara.
Exactly the way his mother used to cook.
His fingers tightened beneath the table.
For one impossible second...
...he was no longer fifty-two years old.
He was twelve.
Standing barefoot in a tiny apartment in Bensonhurst while his mother sang old Italian songs and stirred tomato sauce on Sunday mornings.
The memory hit like a knife.
Because she had been dead for forty years.
And no one had cooked for him since.
Not really.
Private chefs made expensive meals.
Luxury restaurants reserved entire dining rooms.
Five-star hotels prepared imported truffles and rare steaks.
But food prepared by obligation...
...wasn't the same as food prepared because someone cared whether you ate.
He hadn't realized how much he missed that difference.
Inside Russo's Kitchen...
Amelia watched through the window with growing panic.
"Connie..."
"I know."
"Call Sophie back."
Connie didn't move.
"You call her."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because..."
Connie swallowed hard.
"...look."
Amelia followed her gaze.
The dangerous man...
...was picking up the fork.
Very slowly.
As though he'd forgotten how.
Across the street...
A black Cadillac rolled to a silent stop.
Then another.
Then a third.
Their windows were dark enough to hide the passengers.
The engines never turned off.
Within seconds...
Eight men stepped onto the sidewalk.
Every one of them wore tailored black suits.
Every one of them had the posture of former soldiers.
Tiny communication earpieces disappeared beneath neatly cut hair.
People crossing the street instinctively changed direction.
A cyclist nearly crashed trying to avoid them.
One elderly couple hurried into a pharmacy.
Nobody knew their names.
Everyone understood what they represented.
Moretti security.
The tallest guard reached the patio first.
"Boss."
Luca didn't answer.
"Boss, we've identified two suspicious vehicles."
Nothing.
"Boss..."
His voice stopped.
Because Luca Moretti...
...was eating spaghetti.
The guard stared.
The other seven guards stared.
None of them had ever seen this.
For years their employer skipped meals for days.
Ignored banquets.
Walked away from million-dollar dinners untouched.
Doctors warned he would collapse from exhaustion.
He never listened.
Yet now...
He was quietly eating children's spaghetti.
Sophie smiled proudly.
"I told you."
Luca looked up.
"Told me what?"
"You were hungry."
One corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
It wasn't quite a smile.
It looked like someone remembering how smiling worked.
The security guards exchanged stunned glances.
Marco—the oldest among them—felt chills crawl up his spine.
He had protected Luca for nineteen years.
He had seen him negotiate wars between crime families.
He had watched him stare down assassins without blinking.
He had seen him attend his own brother's funeral without shedding a tear.
But this...
This tiny smile...
...was something entirely different.
Inside the restaurant...
Customers had stopped eating.
Every eye watched the patio.
One whispered,
"Who is he?"
Another answered,
"I don't know..."
"...but everyone seems terrified of him."
Connie knew more than she admitted.
Years ago...
Her late husband had quietly told her one sentence after closing time.
"If Luca Moretti ever walks into this restaurant..."
"...serve him first."
She had laughed.
Her husband hadn't.
Sophie noticed the men in suits.
"Are those your friends?"
Luca looked over his shoulder.
"My employees."
"They look grumpy."
Marco almost choked.
No one...
Absolutely no one...
...had ever described the Moretti security team that way.
Luca surprised himself again.
"They usually are."
The little girl nodded wisely.
"My mommy says grumpy people need naps."
One of the younger guards bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.
Marco shot him a warning glance.
No one laughed around the boss.
Ever.
Then everything changed.
A black motorcycle roared around the corner.
Too fast.
Much too fast.
Marco reacted instantly.
"Boss!"
The rider wasn't slowing down.
Instead...
He reached inside his leather jacket.
Every bodyguard moved simultaneously.
Weapons appeared beneath tailored coats.
Restaurant patrons screamed.
Plates crashed onto the floor.
Amelia's heart stopped.
"SOPHIE!"
Before anyone could move...
The motorcycle skidded directly toward the patio.
The rider pulled something metallic from inside his jacket.
Every gun aimed at his chest.
One more second...
And twenty bullets would tear him apart.
Then the rider shouted,
"Luca!"
The motorcycle stopped inches from the patio.
The man ripped off his helmet.
His face was pale.
Blood streamed down one side of his forehead.
"They found him!" he gasped.
"They found Matteo!"
The words hit Luca harder than any bullet.
His chair scraped backward.
"What did you say?"
"They found your grandson..."
The messenger struggled to breathe.
"...but the people who took him know we're coming."
Silence exploded across the patio.
Sophie looked from one frightened adult to another.
She didn't understand the words.
Only the faces.
Especially Luca's.
The sadness she had seen only minutes earlier...
...was gone.
In its place stood something far more terrifying.
A grandfather.
May you like
Who had just learned his missing grandson might still be alive.
And every instinct of the most feared man in New York had awakened at once.
