THE NURSERY WALL
"MY EIGHT-MONTH-OLD TRIPLETS SCREAMED FOR TWO HOURS WHILE TWO SPECIALISTS INSISTED NOTHING WAS WRONG. THEN MY HOUSEKEEPER'S FOUR-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER CRAWLED BENEATH THEIR CRIBS AND WHISPERED, “MR. MORETTI, YOUR BABIES AREN'T SICK. THEY'RE SCARED.” WHEN MY MAFIA SECURITY CHIEF OPENED THE VENT SHE POINTED TO, EVEN HE TURNED PALE.**
My name is Adrien Moretti.
At thirty-four, I was Chicago's most feared mafia boss.
Tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered, with cold gray eyes and black tattoos covering my powerful arms and chest, I commanded hundreds of armed men.
My enemies called me heartless.
But I had three weaknesses.
Theo, Miles, and Nora.
My beautiful eight-month-old triplets.
That Tuesday night, their screams nearly destroyed me.
Theo's tiny fists trembled.
Miles kicked helplessly beneath his blanket.
And little Nora, with her soft golden curls and enormous blue eyes, cried until her cheeks turned crimson.
Three nannies rushed between their cribs.
Warm bottles.
Clean diapers.
Gentle rocking.
Nothing helped.
I summoned two of the city's finest specialists.
Dr. Gable examined each baby twice.
“No fever. Their hearts and lungs are normal.”
“THEN WHY ARE MY CHILDREN SCREAMING?”
Nobody answered.
My security chief, Marco, searched the nursery.
“Cameras are clear, boss. Nobody entered this floor.”
Then a nanny carried Nora into the hallway.
Within seconds, she stopped crying.
The room went silent.
The nanny stepped back inside.
Nora screamed again.
My blood turned cold.
“Take the boys outside. Now.”
Theo and Miles quieted almost immediately.
Something inside that nursery was frightening my children.
That's when Sophie appeared.
She was my housekeeper Elena's four-year-old daughter.
A beautiful little girl with honey-blonde curls, rosy cheeks, and enormous innocent brown eyes.
She wore a yellow lace dress and hugged a handmade doll with mismatched button eyes.
“Sophie, sweetheart, go downstairs,” Elena whispered.
But Sophie wasn't listening.
She stared at the empty cribs.
Then she walked across the nursery rug.
Every armed man watched as the tiny girl crouched beside Theo's crib.
She pressed her ear against the marble floor.
“Sophie?” I asked.
She raised one finger.
“Shhh.”
Nobody dared move.
Then she crawled beneath the crib.
Elena gasped.
I stepped forward.
But Sophie suddenly scrambled backward.
Her little face had gone pale.
“Mr. Moretti?”
I knelt before her.
“What is it, princess?”
She hugged her doll tighter.
“Your babies aren't sick.”
My heart pounded.
“Then what's wrong?”
Her lower lip trembled.
“They're scared.”
Marco reached for his gun.
“Scared of what?”
Sophie pointed toward a wooden ventilation grille near the floor.
“Something in there keeps making a little noise.”
I followed her finger.
Behind the grille, two tiny red lights blinked.
I'd never noticed them before.
“Marco,” I whispered.
He pulled the grille away.
Then he froze.
His face drained of color.
“Boss... don't touch anything.”
I looked toward the dark opening.
“What did you find?”
Marco swallowed hard.
“Something that shouldn't be inside your children's nursery.”
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And then, from somewhere behind the wall, we heard a faint electronic click."
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