New Threat
1249 Words
Matteo was 3 months old when the first letter came.
Plain envelope. No return address.
Dropped at the clinic front desk.
Rosa brought it to me. "It was addressed to you."
Inside: one photo.
Us. At the water house. On the dock.
Alessandro holding Matteo. Me holding Lucia.
Taken last weekend.
No words. Just the photo.
My blood went cold.
---
I didn't show Alessandro right away.
He was home with the kids. I didn't want to ruin his night.
I waited until 11PM. After everyone was asleep.
"Look," I said. Handed him the photo.
He went still.
"Where did you get this," he asked. Voice low.
"At the clinic today," I said. "Anonymous."
He flipped it over. Blank.
"f**k," he said. Quiet. "Fuck."
"Is it Marco," I asked. "Is it someone from before."
"I don't know," he said. "But no one gets near my family."
He was on the phone in 30 seconds. Marco. Security.
"24/7 on the house. On the clinic. On the kids' school," he said. "I don't care what it costs."
He hung up. Pulled me to him.
"Are you okay," he asked.
"No," I said. "I'm scared."
"Me too," he said. "But I won't let anything happen to you. To any of you."
---
The next week was hell.
Guards everywhere. Again.
I hated it. Lucia asked why there were "new uncles" at school.
"We’re being careful," I told her. "That's all."
She accepted it. Kids are good at that.
Alessandro was different. Tense. Checking windows. Checking phones.
He hired a PI. Former cop. Clean.
"Find who sent this," he said. "And I want names."
---
Two weeks later, we got another one.
This time to the house. Left on the gate.
Another photo. Me. Walking into the clinic. 8 months pregnant.
And a note. Typed.
"Nice family. Shame if something happened to it."
Alessandro read it once. Then crumpled it.
"That's it," he said. "We're done playing."
"What do you mean," I asked.
"I mean I'm going to find out who this is," he said. "And I'm going to end it."
"Alessandro," I said. "No. Not like before."
"Not like before," he said. "Legal. Money. Pressure. But I will end it."
I believed him. And I was terrified.
---
The PI came back 3 days later.
"We got something," he said. "It's not Marco. It's not Vince."
"Then who," Alessandro asked.
"A guy named Dario Russo," the PI said. "Used to work for your uncle. Low level. Did collections."
"Why," I asked.
"Because he thinks you owe him," the PI said. "When you went legit, a lot of accounts got frozen. He lost money. He blames you."
Alessandro's jaw tightened. "Where is he."
"Last seen in Palermo," the PI said. "But he’s been moving. He was in the city last week."
Alessandro stood up. "Then we bring him in."
"No," I said. "Police. We go to the police."
Alessandro looked at me. "Seraphina. This guy threatened our kids."
"I know," I said. "And if we do it your way, we become him again. Please. Let me call Daniel. He’s a lawyer now."
He stared at me. For a long time.
"Fine," he said finally. "Police. But my security stays. And if they don’t move fast enough—"
"They will," I said.
---
Daniel filed the report. Harassment. Threats.
The cops took it seriously once they saw the photos.
"Stay visible," the detective said. "Don’t be alone."
We weren’t. For 3 weeks.
Nothing happened. No more letters.
I started to breathe again.
Alessandro didn’t.
---
Then Matteo got sick.
Fever. 102. At 2AM.
We rushed him to the hospital. Alessandro drove like a maniac.
In the ER, I held him while they ran tests. Viral. Not serious. But scary.
Alessandro sat in the chair. Hadn’t moved in 4 hours.
"You okay," I whispered.
"No," he said. "Because what if that was because of me. What if someone—"
"Stop," I said. "It was a virus. It happens."
He nodded. But he didn’t believe it.
---
We took Matteo home 2 days later.
That night, I woke up to Alessandro not in bed.
I found him in Matteo’s nursery. In the dark. In the rocking chair.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he said. "Couldn’t sleep."
I sat on the floor next to him. "Talk to me."
"What if I can't protect them," he said. "What if going legit made us weak."
"You didn't make us weak," I said. "You made us human."
He looked at me. "What if human isn't enough."
"It is," I said. "Because we have each other. And the police. And the law."
He didn’t answer. Just pulled me into his lap.
---
A week later, the police picked up Dario Russo.
In Palermo. Trying to board a flight.
They found more photos in his car. Of us. Of Lucia’s school.
They also found a gun.
"You're safe," the detective told us. "He's being charged."
Alessandro didn't celebrate.
He just held me. Hard.
"It's over," I said.
"It better be," he said.
---
But I could tell it wasn’t over for him. Not in his head.
He started working late again. Missing dinners.
He said it was the business. I knew it was fear.
One night I followed him. Not to spy. To understand.
He was at his office. Alone. At midnight.
Looking at old files. Old names.
"What are you doing," I asked from the doorway.
He jumped. "You scared me."
"I know," I said. "What are you doing."
"Making sure," he said. "That there’s nothing left. No loose ends."
"Alessandro," I said. "We can't live like this."
"I know," he said. "But I don't know how else."
I walked in. Sat in his lap. "Then let me teach you."
---
We started therapy.
Both of us. Together.
It was awkward. It was hard.
"You're allowed to be scared," the therapist said to him. "But you can't let fear run your life."
"I don't know how not to," he said.
"Then we learn," I said.
And we did.
Slowly.
He started leaving work at 6. He started coaching Lucia’s soccer.
He started sleeping through the night.
---
Two months after Dario was arrested, we got a letter.
From the prison.
It was from him.
"I'm sorry," it said. "I was angry. I was wrong. Leave me alone and I'll leave you alone."
Alessandro read it. Burned it.
"Good," he said. "Now it's really over."
---
Spring came.
We took the guards off the school. Kept them at the house.
Lucia stopped asking about the "uncles."
Matteo started crawling.
Life got normal again.
One night we were at the water house.
No guards. Just us.
"Do you feel safe," I asked.
"Yes," Alessandro said. "Because you're here."
"Me too," I said. "Because you're here."
He pulled me close. "I’m sorry I got scared."
"Me too," I said. "But we got through it. Together."
---
That was the last threat.
For real this time.
Dario is in prison for 8 years.
The clinic is safe. The kids are safe. We are safe.
And we learned something.
You can't erase the past.
But you can choose not to live in it.
And we chose us.
We chose this life.
Messy. Scary sometimes.
But ours.
---
Tonight Alessandro is asleep next to me.
Lucia and Matteo are down the hall.
Outside, it’s quiet.
No envelopes. No photos. No fear.
Just us.
And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD