Chapter 3 - The Raldi House
By morning, I had learned something important about Joseph Raldi.
He didn't panic.
He became organized.
At seven thirty, a cybersecurity specialist was checking my accounts. At eight, my obstetrician called to confirm that new privacy protections had been added to my medical file. At eight fifteen, Joseph arrived carrying breakfast.
"You bought enough food for six people."
"I didn't know what you liked."
"You knew I liked blueberry muffins."
His eyes softened.
"I remembered."
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
We drove to the Raldi estate shortly before noon.
It wasn't the gothic fortress I'd imagined.
It was a white Mediterranean mansion overlooking Biscayne Bay, surrounded by palms and flowering bougainvillea.
Joseph's mother waited in the library.
Isabella Raldi was sixty-two and elegant enough to make silence feel like etiquette.
She looked at my stomach first.
Then my face.
"Amanda."
Joseph remained standing.
"Why?"
Isabella's expression barely changed.
"Joseph—"
"Why did you hide her letter?"
She glanced at me.
"Because I believed I was protecting you."
"From my child?"
"From another woman who might have been using you."
Heat rose in my chest.
Joseph's voice became dangerously quiet.
"Choose your next words carefully."
Isabella lifted her chin.
"Women have attempted to attach themselves to this family before."
"I'm standing right here," I said.
Her gaze shifted toward me.
"Yes."
"I asked him for an answer. Not money."
"I know that now."
"Did you?"
For the first time, her composure slipped.
She looked ashamed.
"I had you investigated."
Joseph stared at her.
"You what?"
"After the first letter."
My stomach turned.
Isabella continued.
"I learned about your divorce. Your financial difficulties. Your freelance work."
"And you decided I was a gold digger."
"I decided there was risk."
Joseph slammed his palm against the desk.
The sound made me jump.
He immediately noticed.
His anger vanished.
"I'm sorry."
That tiny reaction told me everything.
He cared whether I was afraid of him.
Isabella saw it too.
"You love her."
Joseph froze.
So did I.
"Mother."
"You don't even know her."
"I know enough to know what you did was unforgivable."
Her face tightened.
"I was trying to protect you."
"You stole five months from me."
The words echoed.
"And from my child."
Isabella's eyes filled.
Joseph walked toward the window.
For the first time, he looked less like Miami's feared Joseph Raldi and more like someone's wounded son.
I should have hated Isabella.
Part of me did.
But another part recognized something painfully familiar.
Fear disguised as control.
Ryan had done it constantly.
Don't wear that.
Don't eat that.
Don't take that job.
I'm only trying to help.
Control always sounded reasonable when spoken by the person holding the leash.
I stood.
"I need air."
Joseph immediately turned.
"I'll come."
"No."
He stopped.
"I need five minutes."
He nodded.
Outside, the bay glittered beneath the afternoon sun.
I walked toward the terrace.
A voice behind me said, "Amanda?"
I turned.
A younger man stood beneath the archway.
He resembled Joseph around the eyes.
"Daniel Raldi."
Joseph's cousin.
I'd seen him once in a business magazine.
"I'm sorry about what happened."
"Thank you."
He smiled sympathetically.
"My aunt can be... protective."
"That's one word."
His smile widened.
Then his eyes dropped to my stomach.
"Joseph always wanted children."
Something about the sentence bothered me.
Maybe because Joseph and I had never discussed children.
"Did he?"
"More than anything."
Daniel stepped closer.
"He'll protect you now."
"I'm capable of protecting myself."
"I'm sure."
His tone said otherwise.
Before I could respond, Joseph appeared.
His entire body went still when he saw Daniel.
"Cousin."
Daniel smiled.
"We were introducing ourselves."
"I can see that."
The temperature seemed to drop.
Daniel excused himself.
I watched him disappear into the house.
"You don't like him."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Daniel never does anything without a reason."
That evening, Joseph drove me home.
At a red light, I asked, "Did you really always want children?"
His hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Daniel said that?"
"Yes."
Joseph stared through the windshield.
"My father died when I was sixteen. Before that, he wasn't around much."
"I'm sorry."
"He believed providing money made him a father."
Joseph paused.
"I decided if I ever had children, they'd never wonder whether I wanted them."
The words settled painfully inside me.
"Our baby spent five months wondering."
Joseph looked at me.
"No. You wondered."
His voice broke slightly.
"Our child will never have to."
My eyes burned.
When we reached my building, Joseph walked me upstairs.
The apartment door was already open.
I stopped.
"I locked it."
Joseph moved in front of me.
"Stay here."
He entered.
Seconds later, he called Marco.
I stepped inside despite his instruction.
Nothing valuable had been stolen.
My laptop was still there.
My television.
My purse.
But the crib had been destroyed.
Wooden pieces lay scattered across the floor.
Baby clothes had been pulled from drawers.
Ultrasound photographs were missing from the refrigerator.
Then I saw the envelope.
It lay on my pillow.
Joseph reached it first.
Inside was one photograph.
Me.
Leaving my obstetrician's office.
Taken two days earlier.
On the back, four words had been written.
THE CHILD CHANGES EVERYTHING.
Joseph stared at it.
His face became unreadable.
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer.
"Joseph."
Finally, he looked at me.
"Twenty-three years ago, my grandfather changed the Raldi family trust."
I swallowed.
"What does that have to do with my baby?"
"The controlling interest in our legitimate companies passes through direct descendants."
My blood chilled.
Joseph continued.
"I've never had a child."
"Until now."
"Until now."
Suddenly the stolen medical records made sense.
The letter.
The surveillance.
The destroyed crib.
Someone wasn't afraid of me.
They were afraid of what my baby represented.
Joseph took my hand.
"You're coming with me."
This time I didn't argue.
Because someone had just broken into my home.
May you like
And for the first time, I understood that the most dangerous person in Miami might not be Joseph Raldi.
It might be the person terrified of his unborn child.
