Erasing Serena Rossi

Chapter 3 The Canary's Provocation

The next morning, sunlight filled the estate through bulletproof glass. Nothing in the quiet rooms showed that the final data purge was moving through the Rossi network.

I was drinking black coffee in the solarium when the butler announced a visitor.

"Miss Mia Fiore is here to see you, Donna. She says she is the daughter of Mr. Fiore, from the Romano family."

We both knew the story was false. "Send her in."

Mia walked in wearing a white summer dress fitted over the small swell of her belly. She looked around the solarium, smiled, and took the seat opposite mine without waiting to be offered it.

Then I noticed her necklace.

A single, flawless pink diamond, hanging from a delicate platinum chain.

Gabriel had given me an identical pink diamond after our first miscarriage. He had sworn the piece was unique and called it a "teardrop of hope," a promise made while I was still bleeding.

Now the copy sat at Mia's throat. He had reused my grief again.

"Serena, I hope I'm not intruding. Gabriel was just so worried about you being alone after the party."

She reached into her purse. A folded piece of paper fell onto the marble between us.

An ultrasound photo.

"Oh, my goodness, how clumsy of me." She picked it up and held the grainy black-and-white image where I could see it.

"Everything is so new. Gabriel was up with me all night, you know. He couldn't stop kissing my belly. He says he can already feel the future of the family in there."

She watched my face after every sentence. I took another sip of coffee while she waited for a reaction.

Her dress was cheap, the diamond was recycled, and the future Gabriel had promised her had only hours left.

"Enjoy your illusion, Mia. It's all you'll ever have."

I left her on the chaise with the ultrasound still in her hand.

Back in the master suite, I opened the walk-in closet. Designer gowns and locked jewel cases filled the shelves. I packed none of them.

I fed seven years into the fireplace. The photographs from our wedding in Sicily went first.

Then came Gabriel's handwritten love letters, the pressed flower from our first anniversary, and every gift that carried a private memory.

By the time the flames died down, only gray ash remained.

The in-wall safe behind the full-length mirror was almost empty. I had liquidated or destroyed the valuables inside.

I set a small black velvet box in its center.

The Rossi Donna ring came off my finger last. Its massive black diamond had marked my power and my position for seven years. It had also marked who I served.

I put it in the box and closed the lid.

My burner phone vibrated on the vanity as I shut the safe.

A single, encrypted message.

"Helicopter is in position. Awaiting your signal, Ghost."