Chapter 3 - THE BOY IN THE HALLWAY
The cedar room felt like a tomb.
Victor Rossi was alive.
The man who had waged a decade-long war against the Moretti family—the man who was supposed to be ashes—was the face in the locket.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, handing the photograph back. “If he’s your enemy, why does Vanessa have a picture of him holding her baby?”
“Because Vanessa didn’t come to me by accident,” Luca said, his dark eyes locked on the scarred face in the photo. “We met ten months ago at a charity gala. She was perfect. Too perfect. She knew my favorite wine, my mother’s favorite charities.”
He closed the watch.
“She was planted.”
Daniel stepped forward. “Boss, if Rossi is alive and Vanessa has been working for him, the engagement dinner downstairs is a massive security risk. Half the commission is in your dining room.”
“Lock down the estate,” Luca ordered. “Nobody leaves. Nobody enters. Put armed men at every door.”
“Yes, boss.” Daniel turned and ran down the hall.
Luca looked at me.
His expression softened slightly as he took in my pale face and the way I was holding my ribs.
“Hannah. You need to go to your quarters. Lock the door. Do not let anyone in unless it’s me or Daniel.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell my guests that my fiancée had a family emergency,” Luca said smoothly. “Then I am going to find out what Victor Rossi wants with my mother’s ledger.”
He turned toward the door.
Then he stopped.
“Where is Leo?”
My heart jumped.
Leo.
Luca’s six-year-old nephew. He had lived at the estate since his parents died three years ago.
“He was in the playroom on the second floor,” I said. “Mrs. Carter was supposed to put him to bed at eight.”
Luca checked his watch. It was 10:15.
“Check on him,” Luca said. “Take him to your room. Keep him out of sight.”
I nodded, fighting through the pain in my side as I hurried out of the cedar room.
The second floor was quiet.
Too quiet.
The thick carpets muffled my footsteps as I walked toward the playroom at the end of the hall.
The door was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open.
“Leo?” I whispered.
The room was empty.
The television was off. His toy cars were scattered across the rug.
Panic began to rise in my chest.
“Leo?” I called a little louder.
I checked his bedroom next door. The bed was perfectly made. Empty.
I turned around to run back to Luca, but as I reached the main staircase, I saw something sitting on the top step.
A small, blue velvet box.
I recognized it.
It was the box Vanessa had been carrying earlier that evening. The box that held the diamond necklace Luca had given her for their engagement.
I picked it up.
It was open.
The necklace was gone.
But folded neatly inside the velvet slot was a piece of paper.
It was a child’s drawing.
Crayon on construction paper.
My breath hitched in my throat.
It was a drawing of a tall man in a dark coat holding a little boy’s hand.
Underneath the drawing, written in a child’s messy handwriting, were two words:
My Daddy.
Answer one: Vanessa had a child with Victor Rossi.
Open two: Where was the child now? And why did Leo draw this?
Before my mind could connect the pieces, a small voice echoed from the shadows of the hallway.
“Hannah?”
I spun around.
Leo was standing near the curtains, clutching his stuffed bear. He looked terrified.
I rushed over and dropped to my knees, ignoring the searing pain in my ribs.
I pulled him into a hug. “Leo! Are you okay? Why are you hiding?”
He clung to my apron.
“The man told me to be quiet,” Leo whispered.
My blood ran cold.
“What man, sweetie?”
Leo pointed toward the drawing in my hand.
“The man who came for Aunt Vanessa. He said I couldn't scream, or he would hurt you.”
I stared at the six-year-old boy.
“Leo… when did the man say that?”
May you like
Leo looked down at the floor.
“Right now. He’s standing behind you.”
