Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO CAME ALONE
Elena did not go to work.
For the first time in almost three years, she simply did not show up.
Her manager called six times.
She ignored every call.
She took Sofia to the only person in New York she trusted.
Marisol Vega had been Elena’s caseworker during the last two years Elena spent in foster care.
She was sixty-three now, retired, widowed, and living above a bakery in Jackson Heights.
When Elena appeared outside her apartment holding a baby, Marisol did not ask questions.
She opened the door.
“What happened?”
Elena stepped inside.
“Lock it.”
Marisol did.
Ten minutes later, the older woman sat at her kitchen table staring at Sofia.
“You found her in a dumpster?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t call the police?”
“I was going to.”
“That sentence usually means you weren’t.”
Elena rubbed her face.
“I saw the news.”
Marisol became still.
“You know who she is?”
“Yes.”
“Elena.”
“I know.”
“No, sweetheart, I don’t think you do.”
Marisol lowered her voice.
“Lorenzo Moretti is not just some wealthy father.”
“I know what people say.”
“People say half of what they know.”
Elena looked toward Sofia.
The baby was sleeping in a borrowed bassinet.
“Someone put her in garbage.”
Marisol’s expression softened.
“I understand why you didn’t want her placed into the system.”
“No.”
“You were thinking about yourself.”
Elena flinched.
Marisol reached across the table.
“That wasn’t criticism.”
She squeezed Elena’s hand.
“You were thinking about being eight years old and sitting in an emergency placement office at two in the morning.”
Elena looked away.
“I remember the fluorescent lights.”
“I know.”
“I remember nobody telling me where my brother was.”
Marisol said nothing.
Elena swallowed.
“They separated us.”
“Yes.”
“And I never saw him again.”
“I know.”
Elena looked at Sofia.
“I couldn’t do that to her.”
Marisol’s eyes filled with sadness.
“But Sofia has a father searching for her.”
“I’m going to give her back.”
“When?”
“When I know I’m giving her to her father instead of the person who took her.”
That answer changed Marisol’s expression.
“What makes you think someone close to him was involved?”
Elena placed the pendant on the table.
Then she told Marisol about the men at her apartment.
Marisol listened without interrupting.
When Elena finished, the older woman stood.
“We call the police.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“Someone found my address within hours.”
“Then we call Lorenzo Moretti directly.”
“How?”
Marisol looked toward the television.
“You work in one of the most expensive hotels in Manhattan.”
Elena understood immediately.
The Chatzsworth.
Businessmen.
Politicians.
Celebrities.
Private security.
And people who knew everyone.
Elena grabbed her phone.
She called Daniel Kim, a night concierge who had covered for her more times than she could count.
He answered on the second ring.
“Elena?”
“Daniel, I need a favor.”
“You vanished in the middle of the apocalypse.”
“Please.”
He heard something in her voice.
“What do you need?”
“I need a number.”
“For who?”
“Lorenzo Moretti.”
Silence.
“Elena.”
“Please.”
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Another silence.
Then Daniel whispered.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You have the baby.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Daniel.”
“It’s everywhere.”
“You cannot tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“Can you get me his number?”
“Not his personal one.”
“Anything.”
“Give me ten minutes.”
He called back in seven.
The number belonged to a private office in Midtown.
Elena dialed.
A woman answered.
“Moretti Holdings.”
“I need to speak with Lorenzo Moretti.”
“May I ask who is calling?”
“Elena Reyes.”
“And the reason?”
Elena looked at Sofia.
“Tell him I found something that belongs to him.”
There was a pause.
“Ms. Reyes, Mr. Moretti does not accept unsolicited—”
“Tell him the lion is holding a dagger.”
Silence.
The woman stopped breathing.
Then the call transferred.
A man answered.
Not Lorenzo.
“Who is this?”
“Elena Reyes.”
“How did you get this number?”
“I need Lorenzo.”
“You’re speaking with Matteo Bellini, Mr. Moretti’s security director.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Wait.”
“I said Lorenzo.”
“You don’t understand—”
“No.”
Elena’s voice became steady.
“I understand perfectly.”
She looked at Sofia.
“Someone inside his world took his daughter.”
The line went silent.
“If I speak to anyone except him, I don’t know who I’m speaking to.”
Another pause.
Then a different voice came onto the line.
Deep.
Controlled.
“Ms. Reyes.”
Elena knew immediately.
Lorenzo.
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
“Yes.”
“Is my daughter alive?”
No greeting.
No threat.
Only that.
Elena looked at Sofia.
“Yes.”
The man on the other end released a breath so quietly Elena almost missed it.
“Is she hurt?”
“She had a very high fever.”
Lorenzo said nothing for several seconds.
Elena heard someone speaking in the background.
Then Lorenzo returned.
“Where is she?”
“I’m not telling you yet.”
Marisol stared at Elena as if she had lost her mind.
Lorenzo’s voice changed.
Not louder.
Colder.
“Ms. Reyes.”
“Someone knew where I lived.”
“What?”
“Two men came to my apartment this morning pretending to be maintenance workers.”
The silence on the other end became absolute.
“How did they know your address?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
Lorenzo swore softly away from the phone.
Then he spoke to someone nearby.
“Find out.”
He returned to Elena.
“Listen carefully.”
“I am.”
“If you have Sofia, you may already be in danger.”
“I figured that out.”
“I can send people.”
“No.”
“My people can protect you.”
“Your people are exactly what I’m worried about.”
For the first time, Lorenzo hesitated.
Elena knew she had hit the truth.
“Come alone,” she said.
“To where?”
Elena looked at Marisol.
Then she named a twenty-four-hour church near Astoria Boulevard.
Public.
Cameras outside.
People inside.
“Thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen.”
“No.”
Elena’s voice hardened.
“Thirty.”
“Why?”
“Because if you arrive in fifteen, I’ll know you brought people.”
Lorenzo almost sounded impressed.
“Thirty.”
Elena ended the call.
Marisol stared at her.
“You just ordered Lorenzo Moretti to arrive on schedule.”
“I know.”
“Maybe I should start praying now.”
Twenty-nine minutes later, Elena entered the church carrying Sofia.
Marisol stayed two blocks away with instructions to call emergency services if Elena did not return.
The sanctuary was almost empty.
A priest lit candles near the front.
An elderly woman prayed in the last pew.
At exactly thirty minutes, the main doors opened.
One man entered.
Dark coat.
No visible security.
No entourage.
Lorenzo Moretti looked taller in person.
More exhausted too.
He stopped when he saw the baby.
Everything powerful about him disappeared.
His face broke.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
His shoulders simply dropped as if a weight had struck him.
“Sofia.”
The baby heard his voice.
Her eyes opened.
She turned her head.
Then she made a tiny sound.
Lorenzo crossed half the church before stopping himself.
He looked at Elena.
“May I?”
Elena studied him.
Then she carefully placed Sofia into his arms.
Lorenzo held his daughter against his chest.
His eyes closed.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
Sofia grabbed his collar.
He kissed the top of her head.
“My little star.”
Elena looked away.
She suddenly felt like an intruder.
Then Lorenzo noticed the medication bag.
“You treated her.”
“She needed help.”
“You saved her.”
“I kept her warm.”
“You saved her.”
His voice shook this time.
Elena met his eyes.
“Then tell me who put her there.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“No.”
He looked down at his daughter.
“It isn’t.”
Then Sofia’s tiny fingers tightened around his shirt.
Lorenzo whispered something in Italian.
When he looked back at Elena, the softness was gone.
“Ms. Reyes.”
“What?”
“You cannot go home.”
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Lorenzo glanced toward the entrance.
“Because I came alone.”
“So?”
“So the car that followed you here belongs to one of my companies.”
Elena froze.
“I didn’t send it.”
The church suddenly felt much colder.
May you like
Then Lorenzo said the words she had been afraid to hear.
“Whoever took Sofia knows you found her.”
