Chapter Two: Smoke and Mirrors
1165 Words
The storm had faded into a steady drizzle by the time Elena Moreau stepped out of the cab and into the cool embrace of the night. The neon lights of the city reflected off the wet pavement, a mirror of the restless thoughts that swirled in her mind.
Lorenzo Morretti.
His name lingered in her thoughts, a whisper of danger, of something that both repelled and pulled her in with an unforgiving grip. She hadn't gotten the interview and had barely managed to hold her ground before being dragged into a game far more perilous than she'd expected. But one thing was certain: she'd made an impression. And so had he.
Her heels clicked against the apartment building’s marble floor as she entered, nodding at the doorman before making her way up. The moment she pushed open the door to her apartment, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit her.
"Where the hell have you been?"
Sophia Everyton sat on Elena’s couch, legs crossed, her expression somewhere between worry and exasperation. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, her reading glasses perched at the edge of her nose, though the book in her lap had been long forgotten, she's been Elena's closest friend right from college when they were roommates, they still are to this day roommates.
Elena sighed, dropping her purse onto the table. "Nice to see you too, Soph."
"Don't even try to charm your way out of this," Sophia shot back, narrowing her eyes. "You disappeared. Your phone was off. Mark called me twice, and Julius".
"Julius called?" Elena's stomach clenched slightly.
"Correction Julius stormed into The Tribunal Times looking like he was ready to commit murder. Said if you didn’t check in by morning, he was going to tear the city apart looking for you.”
Elena groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. "I told him to stop overreacting."
"Yeah, well, when his reckless sister suddenly vanishes into thin air? He’s got reason to worry.”
Elena sat down with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "I wasn't kidn*pped, okay? I met him."
Sophia’s brows furrowed. "Him?"
Elena leaned back against the couch, stretching out. "Lorenzo Morretti."
Silence.
Then, Sophia shot up so fast her book fell to the floor. "You what…where…are you insane?!"
"A little, yeah," Elena admitted with a smirk.
Sophia’s arms flailed dramatically. "Elena, he's a mafia boss! Not some Wall Street executive you can butter up for a good quote! Do you have any idea what kind of danger..."
"I know exactly what kind of danger," Elena cut in, her voice softer now, a thread of something deeper laced through it. "I need to get that interview, Soph. You know why."
Sophia exhaled sharply. She did know why.
"Was it worth it?" she finally asked, her voice quieter now.
Elena hesitated. Images of Lorenzo flashed through her mind the way his green eyes had locked onto hers, the quiet amusement laced with something darker, the way he had spoken her name like a secret only he knew.
"Maybe," she admitted. "But I didn't get the interview. Yet."
Sophia crossed her arms. "Are you planning on meeting him again?"
Elena’s lips quirked up. "Absolutely."
Sophia groaned. "I hate you."
"You love me," Elena corrected, standing up and stretching. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to figure out how to get Lorenzo Morretti to sit down for an actual interview without trying to kill me."
Sophia muttered something about Elena needing a psych evaluation as she stalked into the kitchen.
Elena chuckled to herself, but the weight of the night still clung to her. She needed more than just an interview; she needed answers. Answers about the past. About him.
And about what he really knew.
---
The Tribunal Times – The Next Day
Elena stepped into the newsroom, the familiar hum of ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and rushed conversations washing over her like a wave. She barely had time to throw her bag onto her desk before a voice rang out:
"Moreau! My office. Now."
Elena sighed. Mark.
Mark Beatles stood behind his desk, arms crossed, looking like he had aged a decade overnight. His salt-and-pepper hair was slightly disheveled, and his glasses were perched dangerously low on his nose.
"Mark, before you yell…"
"You disappeared last night. No call. No article. No nothing." He held up a hand before she could speak. "And don’t even think about lying to me, because Julius already paid me a visit."
Elena groaned. "Seriously? He’s worse than my parents."
"That’s because you terrify your parents."
She grinned. "Fair."
Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. "Elena, tell me you didn’t go after Morretti alone."
She hesitated.
"Unbelievable," he muttered. "Do you even want to keep your job? Or are you just aiming for a premature funeral?"
"Mark, listen," Elena said, leaning forward. "I met him. I didn’t get the interview, but I made an impression. I just need one more shot."
Mark sighed. "Elena, people who dig into Morretti’s business don’t just get an 'interview.' They disappear."
"Good thing I’m not most people."
Mark shook his head. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"Maybe," Elena admitted, then smiled. "But at least it'll make one hell of a headline."
Mark groaned and waved her out.
---
The Romano House – That Evening
"You're insane."
Julius Romano leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Elena with the same disapproving stare he had perfected over the years. He had always been protective, but after finding out about her parents' death, that protectiveness had sharpened into something closer to obsession.
"Nice to see you too, Jules," she said, stealing a slice of bread from the counter.
Julius swatted her hand away. "You met Lorenzo Morretti? Alone? And you’re planning to meet him again?"
"You’re getting repetitive."
"Because you’re being reckless!"
Christine Romano, Elena’s foster mother, walked in at that moment, her soft features creased with concern. "Elena, honey, Julius is right. This isn’t just a story."
Elena sighed. "I know."
"Then why?" Christine asked gently.
Elena hesitated.
Because it’s not just about the story. Because it’s about them. About what really happened to my parents.
But she couldn’t say that. Not yet.
So she just smiled. "Because it’s what I do."
Julius exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "Then just… be careful, okay?"
Elena smirked. "Always."
Later That Night
Back to her apartment she shares with Sophia. Elena sat on her bed, staring at her phone.
No new messages.
She should wait. Let things settle. Plan her next move.
And yet, her fingers moved on their own.
To: Unknown Number
"Are you ready to talk yet? Or are we still playing?"
A pause.
Then, a response.
From: Unknown Number
"The game has just begun, cara mia
."
Elena’s heart pounded. "How did he get my number?” she thought. He was really going to play along with her in her game of revenge
She smiled.
Game on.
- Writer
