Mateo had received that scar after falling beside the marble fountain at the family estate when he was three years old.
It was hidden beneath his hair.
No photograph showed it.
No missing-person report mentioned it.
No stranger could possibly know.
Slowly, Alessandro stood.
Every instinct told him this little girl was telling the truth.
« Emma… »
He struggled to keep his voice steady.
« Will you take me to your house? »
She studied him for several seconds.
Children recognized danger differently than adults.
Not less accurately.
Simply differently.
Finally, she slipped her tiny hand into his.
« It isn’t far. »
Without another word, the most feared man in New York followed a barefoot little girl into the narrow streets of the Bronx.
His bodyguards instinctively moved after them.
Alessandro glanced back once.
« No. »
« Boss— »
« I’ll go alone. »
Reluctantly, they stopped.
Emma led him through narrow alleys lined with aging brick buildings. Rain dripped from rusted fire escapes. Laundry hung motionless overhead, while the scent of soap, cooking food, and damp concrete filled the air.
