CHAPTER 4 — INSIDE THE EMPIRE
CHAPTER 4 — INSIDE THE EMPIRE
Bee had imagined a mafia mansion.
She expected marble lions.
Gold chandeliers.
Men smoking cigars.
She was wrong.
The Rosetti estate looked more like a private fortress than a home.
High stone walls.
Steel security gates.
Thermal cameras.
Armed guards every twenty feet.
The driveway curved through nearly ten acres before stopping in front of a modern mansion built from glass, limestone, and black steel.
It looked cold.
Deliberately so.
As the SUV stopped, two doctors were already waiting.
Maxim climbed out.
Almost.
His knees weakened.
Before anyone else moved—
Bee caught him again.
"I've got you."
For half a second...
their eyes met.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
Inside, organized chaos erupted.
"Operating room ready!"
"Blood type confirmed!"
"Vitals dropping!"
The doctors hurried Maxim toward a private medical suite.
Bee tried to follow.
A guard stepped in front of her.
"Only family."
She folded her arms.
"He got shot protecting me."
"Orders."
Before the argument could continue—
Maxim spoke from the hallway.
"She stays."
The guard immediately stepped aside.
An hour later...
Bee sat alone in an enormous library.
Someone had brought her dry clothes.
A gray sweatshirt.
Black sweatpants.
Soft socks.
Her stained pink waitress uniform had been taken away.
She hated how comfortable the clothes felt.
A maid placed tea beside her.
"Mr. Rosetti asked us to make sure you ate."
"I'm not hungry."
The woman smiled gently.
"Neither is he."
She left.
Bee stared at the untouched cup.
Nothing about this place matched the stories.
No shouting.
No threats.
No luxury for the sake of showing off.
Everything was quiet.
Controlled.
Disciplined.
Almost military.
That frightened her more.
"You're looking for monsters."
Bee looked up.
An older man stood in the doorway.
Late sixties.
Silver hair.
Perfect posture.
Round glasses.
He carried a leather notebook.
"And you're disappointed."
"Who are you?"
"Arthur Bennett."
He offered his hand.
"I've been Mr. Rosetti's attorney for twenty-three years."
Bee blinked.
"Attorney?"
"And occasionally his conscience."
She shook his hand.
"You don't look like someone who works for the mafia."
Arthur smiled.
"Neither do you."
He sat opposite her.
"For what it's worth..."
"...he has never brought anyone here before."
"I'm not 'anyone.'"
"No."
Arthur nodded.
"You're the woman he took a bullet for."
Bee looked away.
"I didn't ask him to."
"No."
The attorney's expression grew serious.
"Which is exactly why everyone is terrified."
Bee frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Arthur opened his notebook.
"Mr. Rosetti is many things."
He paused.
"Merciful is not among them."
She didn't reply.
"In fifteen years..."
"...I have watched him negotiate billion-dollar contracts."
"I've watched rival organizations surrender rather than fight him."
"I've watched politicians, judges, and CEOs lose sleep because his name appeared in their voicemail."
He leaned forward.
"I have never..."
"...never..."
"...seen him place himself between danger and another human being."
Bee swallowed.
"So why me?"
Arthur closed the notebook.
"If I knew the answer..."
"...none of us would be in danger."
A door opened upstairs.
Footsteps echoed down the staircase.
Maxim appeared wearing a clean black shirt.
His left arm rested in a sling.
His face was pale.
But he was walking.
Bee immediately stood.
"You should be in bed."
"So should you."
"You lost a lot of blood."
"You yelled at me before surgery too."
"I was right."
"You usually are."
Arthur quietly excused himself.
Neither of them noticed.
The room fell silent.
Finally Bee asked,
"Why did you save me?"
Maxim didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward one wall.
Pressed a hidden panel.
A massive digital screen lit up.
Security footage appeared.
Dozens of camera angles.
Traffic cameras.
Storefront cameras.
Street surveillance.
Drone footage.
One paused image filled the screen.
The masked sniper.
Then another image.
A photograph enhanced by facial-recognition software.
Bee gasped.
She recognized him.
Impossible.
"No..."
The man on the screen...
...was wearing the maintenance uniform from her mother's assisted living facility.
The same employee who had smiled at her every Sunday.
The same man who always said,
"Your mother is lucky to have such a devoted daughter."
Maxim looked at Bee.
His voice was colder than she had ever heard.
"He isn't a maintenance worker."
"He is one of the deadliest contract killers on the East Coast."
Bee felt her knees weaken.
Maxim spoke the words that shattered everything she believed about her ordinary life.
May you like
"And according to every intelligence file I've acquired..."
"...he has been watching your family for almost twenty years."
