Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT CURTAINS
They landed in darkness.
Elena never learned the name of the airfield.
There were no commercial terminals.
No baggage carousels.
No families waiting beneath fluorescent lights.
Only a narrow runway cut through trees and six black SUVs idling beside a hangar.
Rain hammered the pavement.
Matteo took Sofia from Elena only after the baby had finished feeding a second time.
This time Sofia did not cry.
She slept against her father’s chest with one tiny hand curled into his shirt.
Elena should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt trapped.
“You said I’m in danger.”
“Yes.”
“Call the police.”
One of Matteo’s men almost smiled.
Matteo did not.
“The police cannot protect you from this.”
“You mean they can’t protect me from you.”
His eyes settled on hers.
“If I wanted you afraid of me, Elena, you would not have to guess.”
It was the first time he used her first name.
She hated the way it sounded in his voice.
Too familiar.
Too certain.
She folded her arms.
“I have an apartment.”
“Not anymore.”
Her blood went cold.
“What did you say?”
Matteo handed Sofia to an older woman waiting beside the SUV.
The woman looked to be in her fifties.
Gray threaded through her dark hair.
Her face softened immediately when she saw the sleeping baby.
“Mrs. Kovac will stay with Sofia.”
Then Matteo looked at Elena.
“Get in the car.”
“No.”
His security men shifted.
Elena noticed.
So did Matteo.
He lifted one hand.
Every man stopped.
Then he walked closer.
“Your apartment was entered forty minutes ago.”
Elena forgot the rain.
“What?”
“A team I sent there found the lock broken.”
“My apartment has nothing to do with you.”
“It does now.”
“My things.”
“Untouched, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Matteo hesitated.
That hesitation scared her.
“Elena.”
“What did they take?”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“Nothing we can identify.”
“Then why did someone break in?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
She stared at him.
“Were they still there?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe this?”
He pulled a phone from his coat.
Not hers.
He tapped the screen and held it out.
Security footage filled the display.
Her hallway.
Her door.
Timestamped less than an hour earlier.
Two men in dark clothing entered her apartment.
One emerged seven minutes later carrying something small.
The second looked directly toward the camera.
Elena stopped breathing.
She knew that face.
Not personally.
But she had seen it before.
“Pause it.”
Matteo did.
Elena took the phone.
Her hands started shaking.
“No.”
“What?”
She enlarged the image.
Three months earlier.
Rain.
Police lights.
A wrecked sedan crushed against a concrete barrier.
A man standing behind the yellow tape while Elena screamed her husband’s name.
He had been there.
Watching.
She remembered because everyone else looked shocked.
That man had not.
“He was at the crash.”
Matteo went still.
“What crash?”
Elena slowly raised her eyes.
“The crash that killed my husband and my sons.”
For the first time since she met him, Matteo Volkov looked genuinely surprised.
The rain seemed louder.
“When?”
“June seventeenth.”
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“Where?”
“FDR Drive.”
“What time?”
“A little after midnight.”
Matteo took the phone back.
He studied the intruder’s face.
Then he said something in Russian.
One of his men immediately pulled out a radio.
Elena grabbed Matteo’s arm.
“Who is he?”
Matteo looked down at her hand.
Elena released him.
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“You recognized something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
He looked toward Sofia’s vehicle.
“The man works for someone who has been stealing from me for years.”
“That has nothing to do with my family.”
“I hope not.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“Then give me one.”
His jaw tightened.
“I cannot.”
Elena laughed in disbelief.
“You dragged me to an airfield, told me I can’t go home, showed me a man connected to my family’s deaths, and now you ‘cannot’ answer?”
“You deserve answers.”
“Then give them to me.”
“When I know whether they’ll get you killed.”
She stared at him.
“I am already standing beside a mafia boss on a private runway in the middle of nowhere.”
Matteo’s eyes darkened.
“Then for once tonight, trust that I know what danger looks like.”
He opened the SUV door.
Elena did not move.
Then thunder rolled above them.
Sofia stirred in the other vehicle.
A weak cry escaped.
Elena turned instinctively.
Matteo saw it.
Something unreadable passed through his face.
“You care about her.”
“She’s a baby.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
Elena hated that he was right.
She got into the SUV.
The estate appeared forty minutes later.
Calling it a house felt absurd.
It sat behind stone walls in a forest of black pines.
No neighboring lights were visible.
No road signs.
No mailbox.
And no curtains.
Every window was darkened from the outside.
Inside, the building felt less like a mansion and more like a beautiful fortress.
Matteo led Elena through a marble foyer.
Two men guarded the staircase.
Another stood beside a door at the end of the hall.
Elena turned.
“How many guns are in this house?”
“Too many.”
“At least you’re honest about something.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then Sofia cried upstairs.
Both of them reacted.
Elena hated that she moved first.
Mrs. Kovac met them in the nursery.
Sofia’s face had gone red again.
“She woke hungry.”
Elena looked toward Matteo.
“You need donor milk.”
“We had it.”
“Had?”
“She stopped taking bottles after her mother died.”
Elena turned sharply.
“How long ago?”
“Eleven days.”
The number hit harder than expected.
Elena looked at the nursery.
Everything was new.
Too new.
A white crib.
Soft gray walls.
Boxes of unopened diapers.
A stuffed elephant with its tag still attached.
This was not Sofia’s real nursery.
It was a room assembled in a hurry.
“You’ve been moving her.”
Matteo said nothing.
“Safe houses?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“Four in eleven days.”
Elena stared at him.
“She’s grieving.”
His face tightened.
“So am I.”
The words were simple.
They landed heavily.
Elena looked away first.
She picked Sofia up.
The baby rooted instantly.
Elena closed her eyes.
This could not continue forever.
Her body was producing milk, but stress could change that.
Sofia needed a sustainable plan.
“She needs a pediatrician.”
“One is coming.”
“She needs bloodwork.”
“Done yesterday.”
“I need to see it.”
Matteo nodded.
No argument.
That surprised her.
Twenty minutes later, Elena sat in an armchair feeding Sofia while reading lab reports.
Mild dehydration.
Weight loss.
No infection.
No obvious metabolic issue.
Something bothered her.
“Where’s the formula?”
Matteo pointed to the counter.
Three sealed containers sat beside a sterilizer.
Elena examined them.
Different brands.
Different preparation methods.
All rejected.
“Who prepared her bottles?”
“Her nanny.”
“Where is she?”
Matteo’s silence told Elena the answer mattered.
“She disappeared the night my wife died.”
Elena slowly lowered the formula container.
“Your wife dies.”
“Yes.”
“The nanny vanishes.”
“Yes.”
“Your daughter suddenly refuses every bottle.”
“Yes.”
“And now someone is following your plane.”
“Yes.”
Elena stared at him.
“You didn’t think those things might be connected?”
“I did.”
“Then why are you acting like the feeding problem is emotional?”
“Because three doctors told me it was.”
Elena looked down at Sofia.
The baby’s eyelids fluttered.
Then Elena noticed something on the bottle drying rack.
A faint residue.
Almost invisible.
She stood.
“Who washed these?”
“Staff.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
Matteo went still.
Elena picked up one bottle with a clean towel.
She smelled it.
Nothing obvious.
Then she examined the silicone nipple.
There was a slight discoloration near the base.
“Get your doctor here now.”
Matteo’s face changed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s all I have.”
He pulled out his phone.
Elena stopped him.
“And nobody uses those bottles.”
Matteo barked instructions.
Within fifteen minutes, a physician arrived.
Dr. Samuel Beck.
Mid-fifties.
Calm.
Efficient.
Clearly familiar with Matteo.
He collected samples without asking unnecessary questions.
Elena watched every step.
Matteo watched Elena.
An hour later, the preliminary result came.
Dr. Beck entered the nursery holding his phone.
His face had gone pale.
Matteo stood.
“What?”
The doctor glanced toward Elena.
Then back at Matteo.
“There’s a contaminant in two of the bottle nipples.”
“What contaminant?”
“I need the full lab before I name it.”
“Could it hurt her?”
“Yes.”
Elena tightened her arms around Sofia.
“How badly?”
Dr. Beck hesitated.
“Enough that refusing those bottles may have saved her life.”
The room became silent.
Matteo did not speak.
He simply looked at his daughter.
Then the lights went out.
Every light in the house.
A second later, emergency red lamps switched on.
Somewhere downstairs, a man shouted.
Matteo drew a weapon.
Elena’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
A guard ran into the hallway.
“Perimeter breach.”
Matteo’s face transformed.
He looked at Elena.
“Safe room.”
“I’m not leaving without Sofia.”
“You’re taking Sofia.”
Mrs. Kovac opened a concealed panel behind the wardrobe.
Elena stared.
Of course there was a hidden door.
Matteo placed his daughter into Elena’s arms.
For one second, his hand remained beneath Sofia’s back.
Then he looked at Elena.
“No matter what you hear, do not come out.”
“What about you?”
His expression was almost cold again.
Almost.
“I’m the reason they came.”
The hidden door began to close.
Elena shifted Sofia against her chest.
Then Matteo leaned closer.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“If anyone inside that room tells you they work for me, don’t believe them unless they know the name of the song my wife sang to Sofia.”
Elena’s heartbeat stumbled.
“What song?”
Matteo looked directly at her.
“Bluebird.”
The hidden door shut.
And Elena stopped breathing.
May you like
Because the last thing her husband had whispered to her before leaving home the night he died had been exactly the same word.
Bluebird.
