Chapter 5 - ROOM 417
Lorenzo wanted Elena nowhere near the hotel.
Elena ignored him.
“You need me.”
“No.”
“I know the service corridors.”
“My people know the building plans.”
“They know what architects drew.”
She grabbed her coat.
“I know which elevator sticks between four and five.”
Matteo looked at Lorenzo.
“She has a point.”
Lorenzo gave him a look.
Matteo raised both hands.
“I didn’t say I liked it.”
Thirty minutes later, Elena entered the Chatzsworth through the staff entrance.
She wore her maid uniform beneath a borrowed wool coat.
Lorenzo and Matteo entered through the lobby separately.
No visible security followed them.
Elena knew better than to believe they were actually alone.
The employee hallway smelled like detergent and coffee.
It had been less than one day since she worked here.
It already felt like a different life.
Daniel Kim stood at the service desk.
His eyes widened when he saw her.
“Elena.”
“Don’t react.”
He immediately stared at his computer.
“You’re terrible at normal.”
“You brought Lorenzo Moretti into the hotel.”
“I said don’t react.”
“I’m trying.”
Elena leaned against the counter.
“Room 417.”
Daniel’s fingers stopped.
“What about it?”
“Who checked in?”
He typed.
“Charles Avery.”
“ID?”
“Passport.”
“Real?”
“No idea.”
“Payment?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Cash deposit.”
“That’s unusual.”
“For this hotel, very.”
“Any visitors?”
He checked the access logs.
“Service elevator opened on four at 12:31.”
Elena’s pulse quickened.
“Camera?”
“Maintenance outage.”
Of course.
Daniel looked up.
“Elena, what is happening?”
She lowered her voice.
“If anyone asks, you didn’t see me.”
“That sentence has never made anyone feel better.”
She left before he could ask more.
Room 417 was at the end of the east corridor.
Lorenzo waited near the stairwell.
Matteo stood beside him wearing gloves.
“Housekeeping master key?” he asked.
Elena held it up.
“I stole it from myself.”
Matteo almost smiled.
Lorenzo did not.
“You stay behind me.”
“I work here.”
“Elena.”
“Fine.”
She did not mean it.
The room was empty.
Bed untouched.
Curtains closed.
No luggage.
No clothes.
Nothing.
Matteo searched the bathroom.
Lorenzo checked behind the curtains.
Elena stood near the desk.
Something smelled strange.
Not perfume.
Not smoke.
Baby powder.
Her eyes moved toward the wastebasket.
Empty.
Then she saw a white grain beneath the desk.
Formula.
Someone had prepared a bottle here.
She crouched.
“There.”
Lorenzo came over.
His face changed.
He saw it too.
Matteo opened a drawer.
Inside was a baby bottle nipple.
Unused.
Still wrapped.
Lorenzo gripped the edge of the desk.
“Sofia was here.”
Elena continued searching.
Housekeepers noticed different things.
Dust patterns.
Moved furniture.
Items placed where guests did not usually place them.
The television had been turned slightly away from the bed.
Why?
She walked behind it.
A cable had been unplugged.
Not the power cable.
The hotel’s internal network line.
Someone had disabled smart-room logging.
“Elena.”
She turned.
Lorenzo was holding a folded card.
It had been taped beneath the desk.
Three words were printed on it.
SHE WAS FIRST.
Elena stared.
“First?”
Matteo took the card.
“Could mean first target.”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened.
“No.”
He turned the card over.
There was another line.
Lucia was second.
The name from the pendant.
Elena looked at Lorenzo.
“Who is Lucia?”
He did not answer.
“Lorenzo.”
His eyes stayed on the card.
“My wife.”
Elena felt cold.
“Sofia’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Lorenzo slowly raised his eyes.
“She died eleven months ago.”
No one spoke.
Finally Elena asked.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Matteo looked away.
Elena understood.
“You don’t believe it was an accident.”
Lorenzo folded the card.
“I didn’t.”
“Did?”
“I spent eleven months trying to prove someone caused it.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Elena remembered the engraving.
LMF.
Lucia.
She pulled the pendant from her pocket.
“I found something.”
Lorenzo stared at the necklace.
His composure broke again.
“Where did you get that?”
“She was wearing it.”
He took the pendant carefully.
“Lucia had this made when Sofia was born.”
He turned it over.
His thumb touched the engraving.
“She wore one like it too.”
Elena watched him.
“What happened to hers?”
“Missing after the accident.”
Matteo came out of the bathroom.
“Lorenzo.”
He held a small plastic card.
Hotel key.
Not for Room 417.
The number printed on it was 1908.
Elena recognized the numbering.
“Nineteenth floor.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Who is registered?”
Daniel checked remotely.
His answer came through Matteo’s phone.
“No guest.”
Elena frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“What is Room 1908?” Lorenzo asked.
Elena’s face changed.
“It isn’t a guest room.”
“Then what?”
“Executive storage.”
They went upstairs.
The nineteenth floor corridor was silent.
Room 1908 required both a physical key and staff authorization.
Elena swiped her card.
Red light.
Denied.
Then a voice sounded behind them.
“Elena?”
She turned.
Her manager, Mr. Preston, stood twenty feet away.
He looked at Lorenzo.
Then Matteo.
Then the key in Elena’s hand.
His face lost all color.
“What are you doing here?”
Elena studied him.
“You know Mr. Moretti?”
Preston swallowed.
“No.”
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“You looked at me before she introduced me.”
Preston backed away.
Matteo moved toward him.
“Don’t.”
Preston raised his hands.
“I didn’t take the child.”
Nobody had accused him.
Elena’s stomach dropped.
Lorenzo’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“What child?”
Preston realized his mistake.
Then he ran.
He made it six steps.
Matteo caught him before he reached the service door.
No dramatic fight.
No shouting.
Matteo simply pinned him against the wall.
Lorenzo approached.
“Open 1908.”
Preston shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“They’ll know.”
“Who?”
Preston’s eyes filled with fear.
“You think you’re looking for one person.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
May you like
Preston whispered.
“You’re looking for your own family.”
