Chapter 4 - A Warning Wrapped in White Roses
The first threat arrived that afternoon.
Amelia found the roses on her doorstep when she returned from delivering a bridal arrangement. Two dozen white blooms lay inside a black box, their stems trimmed with unnerving precision.
There was no card.
Only a photograph.
It showed Amelia standing outside Bellamy & Hart, her face turned away from the camera just before Vanessa Clark struck her.
Someone had circled her face in red ink.
Amelia's stomach tightened.
She carried the box inside, locked the door, and called the police. The officer who arrived took photographs, asked a few questions, and promised to file a report.
When he left, Amelia called Isabella.
She didn't intend to involve Adrian. The last thing she wanted was to become the reason a violent man decided to settle a score.
Isabella arrived twenty minutes later.
The moment she saw the photograph, her expression changed.
“This wasn't Vanessa.”
“You sound certain.”
“Vanessa is cruel because she thinks money makes her untouchable. This is different.”
“Different how?”
“Someone wants you frightened.”
Amelia swallowed. “It's working.”
Isabella reached for her hand.
“Being frightened doesn't mean you've lost.”
A car door slammed outside.
Adrian entered the shop moments later, followed by two men. His gaze swept the room, noting the open box, the photograph, and the officer's abandoned business card on the counter.
“Who sent this?”
“We don't know,” Isabella said.
Adrian picked up the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
“Did you touch anything else?”
“No.”
“Did anyone follow you home?”
“I don't know.”
He turned to his security chief. “Check the street cameras. Get the footage from the neighboring businesses. Nobody leaves this block until we know who delivered it.”
Amelia stepped between him and the door.
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“Your mother is standing right here. I'm standing right here. You don't get to turn my shop into a crime scene and order everyone around.”
“Someone is threatening you.”
“And I called the police.”
“The police won't stop the people behind this.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know exactly how this works.”
The certainty in his voice chilled her.
For the first time, Amelia understood that Adrian wasn't simply a wealthy man with dangerous friends. He knew violence from the inside. He spoke about it with the weary confidence of someone who had watched it solve problems and create worse ones.
“Then tell me the truth,” she said.
His eyes narrowed.
“About what?”
“About your family. About why someone connected to you might care whether I keep my shop.”
Isabella looked at her son.
Adrian said nothing.
Amelia's expression hardened. “I defended your mother. I didn't agree to become part of whatever war you have going on.”
“You're not part of it.”
“Then why is someone sending me photographs?”
He looked away for a fraction of a second.
That was answer enough.
“Get out,” Amelia whispered.
“Amelia—”
“Get out of my shop.”
His men waited for him to respond.
Adrian could have refused. He could have reminded her that he was accustomed to being obeyed.
Instead, he turned and walked out.
Isabella stayed behind.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
“Did you know someone was going to threaten me?”
“No.”
“But you know more than you're telling me.”
Isabella lowered her eyes.
“My family has spent generations believing that fear can keep people safe. My son inherited that belief. I don't want you hurt because of us.”
“Then tell me what's happening.”
“I can't. Not yet.”
Amelia laughed without humor.
“That's what everyone says before the worst part happens.”
Isabella left shortly afterward.
For the next two days, Amelia kept her shop open, delivered her orders, and tried not to look over her shoulder whenever a car slowed outside.
On the third evening, a stranger entered carrying a small bouquet of yellow tulips.
He was in his fifties, with silver hair and a gentle smile.
“I'd like these delivered to a woman named Isabella Moretti,” he said.
Amelia froze.
“Who are you?”
“An old friend.”
She didn't take the flowers.
The man placed them on the counter.
“Tell her Vincent says hello.”
Then he leaned closer.
“And tell her the debt her husband left behind has finally come due.”
He walked out before Amelia could respond.
Inside the bouquet, tucked between the tulips, was a small envelope.
Amelia opened it with trembling fingers.
A single line had been typed on the paper.
Ask Isabella what happened to Daniel Brooks.
Amelia stopped breathing.
Daniel Brooks had been her father.
May you like
He had died when she was nineteen.
And as far as Amelia knew, he had never met a Moretti in his life.
