Chapter 5 - The Rabbit With Half an EarI had spent most of my adult life believing panic was useless.
Then Lily disappeared.
Every lesson vanished.
The estate locked down within ninety seconds.
Nobody entered.
Nobody left.
Emily reached the east wing behind me.
Her room was empty.
The window was locked.
No broken glass.
No forced door.
Lily's slippers sat beside the bed.
Emily turned toward me.
“Where is she?”
“We'll find her.”
“Where is my daughter?”
I had no answer.
Marco appeared.
“Camera footage.”
We ran to security.
At 9:31, Lily left Emily's room carrying her gray rabbit.
She walked toward the kitchen.
At 9:33, a female staff member approached.
Mrs. Ricci.
My sixty-four-year-old senior housekeeper.
The woman who had worked for my family for thirty years.
Emily covered her mouth.
On-screen, Ricci knelt and spoke to Lily.
Then took her hand.
They entered the service elevator.
“Track them.”
The elevator opened in the underground garage.
A laundry van left four minutes later.
Marco cursed.
“Plate?”
“Company vehicle.”
I turned.
“Find it.”
We found Mrs. Ricci’s phone abandoned near Queens.
The van appeared thirty minutes later in Brooklyn.
Empty.
Emily stood beside me in the command room, trembling.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“I came here looking for Daniel's files.”
“Emily.”
“I brought Lily into this house.”
I caught her shoulders.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“This happened because of people who started killing before you ever arrived.”
Her breathing broke.
I lowered my voice.
“I will bring her home.”
“How can you promise that?”
Because I had to.
Because suddenly the idea of that ridiculous little girl being frightened somewhere made something violent wake inside me.
Then Marco shouted.
“Boss.”
He held Lily's rabbit.
A guard had found it near the garage exit.
Emily grabbed it.
“Bunny.”
Something rattled.
We froze.
Marco took the stuffed animal and squeezed its damaged ear.
Inside the torn seam was something hard.
A memory card.
Emily stared.
“I never put that there.”
I understood before anyone spoke.
“Daniel did.”
He had hidden something inside his daughter's toy.
A toy nobody would consider important.
Marco inserted the card into an isolated computer.
One video file.
Daniel Carter appeared on-screen.
He looked exhausted.
Behind him was my father's library.
“If you're watching this,” Daniel said, “Antonio and I are probably dead.”
Emily collapsed into a chair.
Daniel continued.
“Salvatore is stealing money, but he isn't the person I'm afraid of.”
I leaned closer.
“We identified M-17.”
Daniel looked directly into the camera.
“M stands for Moretti.”
My stomach tightened.
“Seventeen refers to September seventeenth, the birthday of the account holder.”
I knew that date.
I had known it my entire life.
September seventeenth.
My mother’s birthday.
Isabella Moretti.
Impossible.
My mother had died when I was fifteen.
Daniel continued.
“Isabella Moretti did not die in the boating accident reported eighteen years ago.”
Nobody moved.
Emily whispered, “Oh my God.”
“She survived.”
My knees nearly failed.
“She has been living under another identity and controlling a network of assets Antonio believed had disappeared.”
I couldn't breathe.
My mother.
Alive.
For eighteen years.
Daniel's voice continued.
“Antonio discovered her survival approximately six months before his death.”
A photograph appeared.
My father and mother outside a private clinic.
Older.
Alive.
Together.
“Why?” I whispered.
Daniel answered as if hearing me.
“Antonio believed Isabella disappeared to protect Nicholas.”
From what?
The video flickered.
“But something changed. By the time Antonio found her, Isabella had become involved with people attempting to seize Moretti assets. I do not know whether she joined willingly.”
Then Daniel leaned closer.
“If anything happens to me, do not assume Salvatore is the architect. He is guilty of theft, but he is frightened of M-17.”
Marco turned toward Salvatore, who had been brought from headquarters under guard.
My uncle looked destroyed.
“You knew my mother was alive?”
“Not until after Antonio died.”
“And you said nothing?”
“She threatened you.”
“What?”
“She sent photographs. Your apartment. Your office. Your car.”
His voice cracked.
“I had already betrayed my brother by stealing from him. I wasn't going to get his son killed too.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead I asked the only question that mattered.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice.
Older.
Soft.
Painfully familiar.
“Nicholas.”
My entire body froze.
I had not heard that voice since I was fifteen.
But some memories never died.
“Mom?”
Emily stared at me.
The woman inhaled shakily.
“I wish we had more time.”
“Where is Lily?”
“She’s safe.”
“If anyone hurts her—”
“No one will.”
“Put her on.”
A pause.
Then—
“Mr. Moretti?”
Lily.
My knees nearly buckled.
“Lily.”
“I lost Bunny.”
“We found him.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. There's a lady here.”
“What lady?”
“She cries a lot.”
The phone changed hands.
My mother's voice returned.
“Come alone.”
“Where?”
She gave me an address in Westchester.
“No police. No Marco. No Salvatore.”
“Why did you take the child?”
“I didn't.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
“Mrs. Ricci brought her to me because she thought Lily was in danger.”
“From whom?”
My mother's next words changed everything.
“From the person who killed your father.”
I looked at Salvatore.
He stared back.
“Who?”
My mother whispered:
“Marco Bellini.”
May you like
And behind me—
Marco slowly reached for his gun.
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