Chapter 2 - THE NURSERY THAT DIDN'T EXIST
The next morning, I discovered the nursery.
It was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Soft cream walls.
A white crib.
Bookshelves filled with children's books.
A rocking chair beside the window.
There were even tiny yellow curtains.
Mia crawled onto the carpet and immediately laughed.
I didn't.
“Who built this?”
The housekeeper, Rosa, looked uncomfortable.
“I don't know.”
“You've worked here longer than I have.”
“Sixteen years.”
“Then you must know.”
Rosa looked toward the hallway.
“It was built before Mr. Duca took over the penthouse.”
“Who was it for?”
She lowered her voice.
“His younger brother.”
I froze.
Alessandro had a younger brother?
I had heard about his family.
His father.
His mother.
His uncle.
But never a brother.
“What happened to him?”
Rosa's face changed.
“Don't ask questions about that family.”
Then she walked away.
I looked at the crib.
There was something carved into the wood.
A tiny letter.
L.
Mia reached toward it.
I pulled her back.
That evening, Alessandro returned late.
I was folding laundry when he entered the room.
He stopped when he saw Mia asleep in the crib.
His expression softened.
It lasted less than a second.
Then it disappeared.
“Her name?”
“Mia.”
“Full name?”
“Mia Elena Reyes.”
He looked at me.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“Your daughter's middle name is yours.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“My mother chose it.”
“And Mia's father?”
My hands stopped.
I didn't answer.
Alessandro waited.
“He isn't involved.”
“Dead?”
“No.”
“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“By choice?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He said nothing.
I expected judgment.
Instead, he walked toward the crib.
Mia slept peacefully.
He stood there for a long moment.
Then:
“She resembles someone.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
His phone rang.
He walked away.
I returned to the laundry.
That night, I woke to a sound.
A soft click.
I sat up.
Mia was awake.
The nursery door was slightly open.
A shadow moved in the hallway.
I grabbed my daughter.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
I switched on the light.
Nobody.
But the window was unlocked.
I called security.
Alessandro arrived within three minutes.
He inspected the window.
Then the hallway.
Then the cameras.
His expression darkened.
“Someone disabled this camera for thirty-seven seconds.”
My stomach turned.
“Who?”
“We're finding out.”
He looked at me.
“Did anyone touch Mia?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Then he did something unexpected.
He picked Mia up.
She immediately grabbed his shirt.
Alessandro stared down at her.
“She's fearless.”
“She doesn't know who you are.”
“Maybe that's why.”
Mia laughed.
For a moment, the feared Alessandro Duca looked almost human.
Then his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face hardened.
“What's wrong?”
He showed me the screen.
A photograph.
Me.
Leaving the building.
Mia in my arms.
Taken from across the street.
Underneath were four words:
WE KNOW ABOUT HER.
I felt cold.
Alessandro took the phone back.
“Pack a bag.”
“For where?”
“My guest floor.”
“Why?”
“Because your apartment isn't safe.”
“I can't stay here.”
“You already do.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
I swallowed.
“I can't afford to become dependent on you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I'm not offering charity.”
“Then what?”
“Protection.”
“I don't need protection.”
“You do now.”
He stepped closer.
“And whoever sent that photograph knows something you don't.”
“What?”
May you like
His gaze shifted toward Mia.
“They know who her father is.”
