Dropping her off back into the city would only result in her death now that the Russo brothers will stop at nothing to prove a point. So now I need to figure out who she is and keep her safe, and the safest place for her to be at the moment is here in my house, in our compound. I just need to wait until she finishes cleaning up and then I can tell her how things are going to be moving forward. Maybe that is when she will snap, yell, scream, or try to make an escape.

I stand by my bedroom window and take a breath as I hear the shower going. The image of her naked body runs through my mind, so I quickly grab my supply of bandages and patch up my wound before I rummage through my closet and change clothes. I am out the door in under five minutes, ready to go down to our lower levels to meet my team for a debrief on this morning's activities.

On my way out the door, I stop in the kitchen, seeing my son Leo perched up at the bench eating breakfast, looking sleepy in his favorite Lego pajamas. His hair stands on end as he slurps up what looks like a bowl of cheerios while Maria is nearby, standing at the oven, busy making sugo.

“Hey, buddy,” I say to Leo, kissing his head and ruffling his hair. He smiles, his eyes wide with happiness at seeing me, but he remains silent.

Words have not left his lips in over three years, since that goddam sex party his mother took him to without any consideration for him or me. All these years later, I still don’t know how to get him to talk. I have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on teachers, tutors, shrinks, and doctors, both here in New York and in Italy, who all tell me the same thing. He will talk once he is ready. Once he feels safe again. Until that time, we burn through homeschool teachers because no one can get through to him, and he buries himself in books and Legos, sticking to his room and Maria like glue.

Maria and I share a look over the steaming pot of sauce. She has been my housekeeper for over a decade and loves Leo as much as I do. She cooks, she cleans, she babysits, and both Leo and I love her like she is our Nonna. The only problem is that she is over 60 and getting too old to do all the work we need—even if her traditional cooking is unsurpassed. I lost both my parents years ago, so she fills that void in me. I will do anything for her, including letting her retire back in Italy if that is what she wants to do. Although, I hope I can keep her for a little while longer.