Chapter 3 - Leave the Mansion Alone
I forgot how to breathe.
The photograph filled the phone screen.
My daughter.
Alive.
I knew it with a certainty no test could have given me.
Maybe it was irrational.
Maybe every newborn looked similar.
Maybe grief had made me desperate enough to believe anything.
But I knew.
“That’s her.”
Lorenzo stood beside me.
“You can't know that.”
“I know.”
“Hunter—”
“That’s my daughter.”
My finger touched the screen.
Her cheek.
Her tiny dark hair.
The yellow blanket.
The number around her ankle.
My number.
My knees weakened.
Lorenzo took my elbow.
I barely noticed.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“We need to trace the message.”
I tightened my grip.
“They said I have to leave.”
“You're not leaving.”
I looked at him.
“That's my baby.”
“And whoever sent that message wants you outside security.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
I laughed through tears.
“Of course you do. I'm keeping your son alive.”
His face changed.
I immediately regretted saying it.
But I was too scared to apologize.
Lorenzo stepped back.
“Yes.”
The word came quietly.
“Yes, you are keeping my son alive.”
He looked at Leo asleep in Dr. Patel’s arms.
“But even if you weren't, I would not let you walk into a trap alone.”
“Let me?”
His eyes returned to me.
“You don't own me.”
“No.”
“Then stop talking like you do.”
“I’m talking like someone whose brother was murdered, whose wife was murdered, whose son may have been poisoned, and whose niece was stolen from a hospital.”
The word stopped me.
“Niece.”
He looked at the baby in the photograph.
“My brother’s daughter.”
I stared at him.
Until that moment, everything had been mine.
My grief.
My baby.
My Nick.
I hadn't considered what Lorenzo had lost.
His brother.
His wife.
Now maybe his niece.
“You believe she's alive?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
I looked down at the message.
“Then help me get her back.”
“I will.”
“I don't want promises.”
“Neither do I.”
He took the phone.
This time, I let him.
Within minutes, three security specialists were in the library.
The photograph was copied.
Metadata inspected.
Cell towers checked.
The number had been routed through an encrypted internet service.
No easy trace.
Of course.
People who stole babies apparently understood technology.
A security technician enlarged the photograph on a monitor.
I stood beside him.
“Can you tell where it was taken?”
“Maybe.”
He zoomed in.
Behind my daughter was a white wall.
A curtain.
Part of a wooden shelf.
Nothing useful.
Then he increased contrast.
A reflection appeared in a small metal medical tray.
Something blue.
Letters.
“Can you sharpen that?”
He tried.
Three letters became visible.
...OUND.
Lorenzo stared at it.
“Sound.”
“What?”
“Long Island Sound.”
“That could mean anything.”
He looked at the image again.
“There are private clinics along the North Shore.”
“Hundreds?”
“Not hundreds with neonatal equipment.”
He turned to a guard.
“Compile every clinic, private residence, medical facility, and property owned by anyone connected to St. Catherine’s within five miles of the Sound.”
The guard left.
I stared at Lorenzo.
“How many people work for you?”
“Enough.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“It wasn't meant to.”
Despite everything, I nearly smiled.
Then the phone chimed again.
Second message.
Hunter leaves through the south service gate at 11:00 PM. Alone. No trackers. No Rossi men.
It was 9:42.
Seventy-eight minutes.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“Stop saying that.”
“No.”
“What if they hurt her?”
“They need you.”
“You don't know that.”
“If they wanted your daughter dead, they wouldn't send proof of life.”
“You don't know that either.”
His eyes hardened.
“No. I don't.”
That was the first thing he'd said that made me trust him.
He wasn't pretending to control what he couldn't.
“I have to do something.”
“We will.”
“You're going to turn me into bait.”
Lorenzo stared at me.
“Only if you're willing.”
I hated that I was.
“What does that mean?”
“You leave through the south gate.”
“Alone?”
“You appear alone.”
“They said no trackers.”
“They'll search you.”
“So?”
“So we don't put a tracker on you.”
I folded my arms.
“Then how do you find me?”
He looked toward the ceiling.
“This house has cameras on every road for six miles.”
“That sounds illegal.”
“Probably.”
Of course.
“We follow from a distance. No vehicles close enough to be spotted.”
“What if they change cars?”
“We adapt.”
“What if they kill me?”
Lorenzo’s expression didn't change.
“They won't.”
“You sound very confident.”
“They need something.”
“Maybe revenge.”
“If this is revenge against my family, killing you accomplishes almost nothing.”
“Comforting.”
“They took your daughter before they knew you worked here.”
That was the part none of us understood.
I had only been at the Rossi mansion eleven days.
My daughter had disappeared three weeks ago.
Whoever stole her wasn't reacting to me feeding Leo.
They had wanted her before I ever entered this house.
Why?
Because Nick was her father?
Because he was a Rossi?
Then why contact me now?
Unless...
“They're watching the mansion.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“They saw you with Leo.”
“How?”
“We're finding out.”
My eyes moved toward Lydia.
She shook her head.
“It wasn't me.”
“Somebody told them.”
Lorenzo looked at the staff roster.
“One hundred and twelve employees rotate through this property.”
I stared.
“One hundred and twelve?”
“This is a large house.”
“This isn't a house. It's a small government.”
Again, almost a smile.
Then the lights went out.
Everything vanished.
A woman screamed somewhere in the corridor.
The emergency lights should have activated.
They didn't.
“Down!” Lorenzo shouted.
He grabbed me.
We hit the carpet as glass exploded behind us.
Gunfire.
Leo began screaming.
Dr. Patel dropped behind the sofa with him.
More shots.
Security answered from the hallway.
Lorenzo pulled a handgun from beneath his jacket.
Until then, some small part of me had still been able to pretend the stories were exaggerations.
They weren't.
He moved toward the door.
I caught him.
“Don't leave Leo.”
He looked at me.
A shot tore through the wooden door.
We both dropped.
“You're right.”
He crawled toward Dr. Patel.
“Safe room.”
“Where?”
He pressed his hand against a section of bookshelf.
Nothing happened.
“No power.”
Another burst of gunfire.
Someone yelled downstairs.
Lorenzo kicked the bottom cabinet.
A hidden panel released manually.
Behind it was steel.
He entered a code on a mechanical keypad.
The door opened.
“Inside.”
Dr. Patel carried Leo.
I grabbed Lydia.
She resisted.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you.”
“They'll follow.”
“Move!”
We entered the narrow hidden room.
Lorenzo pulled the steel door shut behind us.
Darkness.
Then battery-powered lights flickered on.
The room was larger than I'd expected.
Medical supplies.
Water.
Communication equipment.
Security monitors.
Weapons locked behind glass.
Lorenzo immediately checked the feeds.
Several cameras were dead.
Others showed armed men entering through the rear property.
“This was planned,” he said.
“Who are they?”
“I don't know.”
One monitor showed the kitchen.
Two staff members were on the floor with guards protecting them.
Another showed the front staircase.
Men in black tactical clothing moved through the foyer.
No faces visible.
Lydia made a choking sound.
“I know them.”
Lorenzo turned.
“Who?”
“The patch.”
One attacker had a tiny symbol on his sleeve.
A silver crescent.
Lydia backed against the wall.
“They worked security at St. Catherine’s.”
My skin went cold.
“How?”
“Private contractors.”
Lorenzo stared at the symbol.
“Company name?”
“Northstar Protective.”
He immediately grabbed a secure phone.
“Who owns Northstar?”
A voice on the other end answered after several seconds.
“Shell company. I'm digging.”
“Dig faster.”
Leo cried.
Dr. Patel handed him to me.
“He's hungry again.”
Under gunfire.
Inside a mafia safe room.
With armed men hunting us.
I sat down and fed him.
It was absurd.
And somehow completely natural.
Lorenzo watched the monitor while his son ate.
Then one screen changed.
A camera came online outside the library.
Marco appeared.
Blood covered one side of his face.
“Marco,” Lorenzo whispered.
His security chief stumbled through the hallway.
Two guards rushed toward him.
Marco waved them away.
He stared directly into the hidden camera.
Then lifted a piece of paper.
Three words.
DON'T TRUST ROSA.
Lorenzo went completely still.
“Who is Rosa?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
The attackers rounded the corner.
Marco saw them.
He drew his weapon.
The screen erupted into violence.
I looked away, covering Leo’s ear.
When I looked back, Marco was gone.
The paper lay on the floor.
The feed cut again.
“Lorenzo.”
He didn't move.
“Who is Rosa?”
His face looked older.
“My mother.”
I stared at him.
“Your mother?”
“Rosa Rossi.”
My heart began pounding.
The woman from Nick’s voicemail.
A woman involved who knows Hunter.
“My mother knew Nicholas better than anyone,” Lorenzo said.
“Would she hurt his child?”
“No.”
Too fast.
“Would she steal her?”
He looked at me.
“I said no.”
“You're not sure.”
He said nothing.
A phone inside the safe room rang.
Everyone froze.
Lorenzo looked at the display.
Unknown extension.
He answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a woman’s voice came through.
Calm.
Older.
Familiar.
My stomach turned before I even understood why.
“Lorenzo.”
He gripped the phone.
“Mother.”
I stopped breathing.
Rosa continued.
“You have a girl in that room named Hunter Ellis.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“Because I've known who she was since the day Nicholas brought her into his life.”
My skin went cold.
Lorenzo’s voice became hard.
“Did you take her baby?”
Silence.
Then Rosa said something worse.
“I saved that baby.”
I stood.
“Give me the phone.”
Lorenzo hesitated.
“Give it to me!”
He did.
“Where is my daughter?”
Silence.
“Rosa!”
Her voice softened.
“You sound like your mother.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“You should.”
I tightened my grip.
“Do you know Rebecca Ellis?”
A long pause.
May you like
Then Rosa Rossi said:
“Rebecca Ellis isn't your mother.”
