Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
The door opened.
I expected an armed man.
Instead, I saw Elena.
She stood in the darkness holding a flashlight.
“Come with me.”
I backed away.
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Lorenzo told me to stay here.”
“Elena looked toward the hallway.”
“Lorenzo is busy.”
Leo cried harder.
I tightened my arms around him.
“No.”
Her smile disappeared.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
Then footsteps thundered toward us.
Elena stepped aside.
Lorenzo appeared.
His gun was raised.
“Move away from her.”
Elena lifted both hands.
“Brother, you're overreacting.”
“Get out.”
She left.
Lorenzo locked the door.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Leo?”
“Fine.”
He lowered his weapon.
“You did the right thing.”
“Your sister wanted the baby.”
His face hardened.
“She wants many things.”
“What does she know?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
He stared at me.
Then finally said:
“My family has secrets.”
“So does mine.”
He looked at Leo.
“And I think they're connected.”
The next morning, Lorenzo took me to his private office.
A wall of photographs covered one side.
Family.
Business.
Friends.
Enemies.
Then he pointed to one photograph.
Sophia.
Pregnant.
Standing beside a woman I didn't recognize.
“Who is that?”
“My mother.”
I looked closer.
There was something familiar about her.
The eyes.
The shape of her face.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“What?”
“I've seen her.”
“Where?”
“At the hospital.”
His expression changed.
“When?”
“The night Noah died.”
He immediately called his security chief.
“Find every visitor log from St. Catherine's.”
Hours later, we discovered the name.
Margaret Rossi.
Lorenzo's mother.
She had been at the hospital that night.
But Margaret Rossi had supposedly been in Italy.
According to family records, she'd never left Europe.
Someone had forged the travel documents.
Someone had also altered the maternity records.
And someone had changed the baby's identification number.
My baby.
I could barely breathe.
“Where is Margaret now?”
Lorenzo looked grim.
“Dead.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“Three days after Noah died.”
I stared at him.
“This isn't a coincidence.”
“No.”
“Then someone killed her.”
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
That evening, Lorenzo arranged for me to stay in a guest room under protection.
I refused.
“I want my apartment.”
“You're not going.”
“I'm not your prisoner.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“You're a target.”
“Because of Leo?”
“Because of what you might know.”
I stared at him.
“Do you trust me?”
He paused.
“Yes.”
The answer surprised us both.
Then he added:
“More than most people I've known for twenty years.”
That night, someone tried to poison my tea.
The cup had been left outside my door.
I didn't drink it.
Lorenzo did.
He stopped me just before I touched it.
His security chief tested the liquid.
A powerful sedative.
Not lethal.
But enough to make me unconscious.
“Why would someone want me unconscious?”
Lorenzo stared at the cup.
“So they could take Leo.”
A security alarm suddenly screamed.
The nursery.
We ran.
The door had been forced open.
Leo's crib was empty.
My heart stopped.
Lorenzo froze.
Then he saw the window.
Open.
A rope hung outside.
He moved instantly.
I followed him despite his order to stay back.
Below us, headlights disappeared through the trees.
A black SUV.
Lorenzo shouted into his phone.
“Lock every exit.”
Then he turned to me.
“Hunter, stay here.”
“No.”
“That's an order.”
“I don't care.”
His eyes flashed.
“This isn't a game.”
“I know.”
I pointed toward the driveway.
“There are two SUVs.”
He looked.
One was leaving.
The other remained.
“Someone wanted you to chase the wrong vehicle.”
His expression changed.
Then he smiled coldly.
“You're learning.”
The mansion gates slammed shut.
Guards surrounded the remaining SUV.
Inside was a terrified young man.
He had Leo.
Alive.
But he wasn't the kidnapper.
He was a courier.
Someone had paid him to deliver the baby.
“Who?”
The courier shook his head.
“I never saw his face.”
“Name.”
“I don't know.”
Lorenzo grabbed his collar.
“Then tell me what you do know.”
The man swallowed.
“He said one thing.”
“What?”
“He said the baby wasn't really a Rossi.”
Lorenzo went still.
The courier looked at me.
“He said the mother would come looking.”
My blood froze.
“Mother?”
May you like
The courier nodded.
“She was supposed to be the one who took him.”
