Chapter 1 - THREE SHOTS IN THE DARK
Three gunshots ripped through the pediatric floor.
Daniel's heart monitor screamed.
Elena Cruz flinched, but she didn't run.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Everyone else in that hallway had either reached for a weapon or dropped behind something solid.
Elena stepped closer to my son.
She planted herself between Daniel and the door.
Again.
Like she had forgotten she was bleeding.
Like she had forgotten she could die.
I raised my Glock.
“Vincent.”
“Already moving.”
My security chief disappeared into the hallway with two men.
I grabbed the door and slammed it shut.
“Stay away from the windows,” I ordered Elena.
She looked at me as if I had just insulted her intelligence.
“You think I'm leaving him?”
“No.”
“Then don't tell me to.”
For half a second, I simply stared at her.
Nobody spoke to Gabriel Moretti that way.
Nobody.
Then another shot cracked outside.
Daniel's monitor jumped.
The little boy beneath the blankets suddenly gasped.
“Dad?”
My heart stopped.
I rushed to his bedside.
“Daniel.”
His eyelids fluttered.
“Dad…”
“I'm here.”
His fingers moved weakly beneath the blanket.
I grabbed his hand.
It was cold.
Too cold.
“You're safe.”
Daniel looked past me.
His eyes found Elena.
“She saved me.”
I looked at the cleaning woman.
She lowered the broken mop handle.
“I only did what anybody should've done.”
“No,” Daniel whispered.
His voice was barely audible.
“She stayed.”
Something tightened in my chest.
Then the lights went out.
The room plunged into darkness.
The heart monitor switched to battery power.
Emergency lights painted the hallway red.
Elena immediately moved toward Daniel.
I heard something scrape against the door.
Someone was outside.
I raised my weapon.
“Vincent?”
No answer.
I moved toward the door.
Elena grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
“They're waiting for you to open it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because that's exactly what I would do.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then something slid underneath the door.
A small black envelope.
My blood went cold.
I crouched and picked it up.
No name.
No hospital markings.
Just one word written across the front.
MORETTI.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Daniel.
Taken three days earlier.
He was standing outside our Manhattan townhouse holding a baseball glove.
Someone had been watching him.
On the back of the photograph were six words.
YOU CANNOT PROTECT WHAT YOU CREATED.
Elena leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
I didn't answer.
Because I already knew.
Years ago, before Daniel was born, I had made an enemy who didn't want money.
He wanted legacy.
And tonight, someone had finally found the one thing I loved more than my empire.
My son.
The door suddenly shook.
Three bullets tore through it.
Elena screamed.
I fired back.
Vincent shouted from the hallway.
“BOSS! DON'T MOVE!”
Then came another voice.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Gabriel Moretti.”
I froze.
The voice continued.
“You should ask your cleaning lady why she was really in this room.”
Elena's face went pale.
I slowly turned toward her.
She whispered one sentence.
May you like
“I knew this day would come.”
And for the first time that night, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake trusting her.
