Chapter 7 - Behind the Nursery Wall
The Moretti mansion looked beautiful from the outside.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was how many men carried guns.
They stood beside stone columns.
Behind iron gates.
Near the gardens.
Even beneath the covered entrance where the black SUV stopped.
I looked at Rico.
“Does Leo always live like this?”
He didn't answer immediately.
“Yes.”
“Does he ever get to play outside without someone watching him?”
“No.”
I looked through the window at the enormous house.
“That's not much of a childhood.”
Rico stared ahead.
“I know.”
It was nearly three in the morning.
My mother was safe in the hospital under police protection, with Dante's people positioned outside her room.
Frank Bell remained at Il Destino with a lawyer and two independent investigators Dante had contacted.
Vincent had disappeared.
And I was sitting in a car beside a man whose name frightened half of New York.
A man who had asked me to help him open a safe in his son's nursery.
I still didn't understand how my life had changed so quickly.
Rico stepped out.
Then he held the car door for me.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You look surprised.”
“I'm trying to picture you doing ordinary things.”
His mouth twitched.
“I've been told I'm very bad at them.”
Inside, the house was quiet.
Too quiet.
A house that size should have contained laughter.
Music.
Life.
Instead, every footstep echoed.
A woman in her sixties met us near the staircase.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Mrs. Bellini.”
Her eyes moved to me.
Then widened.
“Is this her?”
Rico nodded.
“Clara.”
The woman's expression softened.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
I blinked.
Before I could ask what she meant, she touched my arm.
“Leo's been asking for you.”
My heart tightened.
“Is he awake?”
“He wouldn't sleep.”
Rico exhaled.
“Of course.”
Mrs. Bellini lowered her voice.
“He kept saying, 'Milk lady.'”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Milk lady?”
“He's been calling you that for an hour.”
Rico looked at me.
Something almost warm passed between us.
Then he turned toward the stairs.
“Let's go.”
Leo's nursery occupied the corner of the second floor.
The room was enormous.
Soft blue walls.
Hand-painted clouds.
Shelves filled with books.
A wooden train set spread across the carpet.
And a little boy sitting in the middle of his bed, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
The moment he saw me, his face changed.
“C'ara!”
He held both arms out.
I stopped in the doorway.
Rico looked at me.
“Go ahead.”
I approached slowly.
“Hi, buddy.”
Leo practically threw himself into my arms.
I caught him.
He tucked his head beneath my chin.
For a moment, the entire night disappeared.
No threats.
No dead woman.
No missing evidence.
Just a child relieved that someone had returned.
“I told you I'd try to come back,” I whispered.
Leo nodded against my shoulder.
“Milk?”
I laughed softly.
“Not yet. It's very late.”
He considered that.
Then held up his rabbit.
“Bunny.”
“That's a beautiful bunny.”
“Mommy.”
I looked at Rico.
He nodded.
“Elena gave it to him.”
Leo pressed the rabbit against my face.
“Mommy bunny.”
I kissed its soft ear.
“Then it's extra special.”
Rico turned away.
I pretended not to notice him wiping his eyes.
A few minutes later, Leo finally settled beneath his blanket.
Mrs. Bellini sat beside him.
Rico led me to the wall opposite the bed.
A painting of a sailboat hung there.
He carefully lifted it.
Behind it was a narrow steel safe.
I held up the silver key.
“Are you sure?”
“No,” he said.
Then he looked at his sleeping son.
“But I have to know.”
The key turned.
A quiet click.
Rico opened the safe.
Inside were three things.
A sealed envelope.
A small hard drive.
And a photograph of Elena holding newborn Leo.
Rico reached for the photograph first.
His thumb brushed her face.
Then he set it down.
The envelope had his name written in Elena's handwriting.
He opened it.
His hands began to shake as he read.
I waited.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
Finally, he sat heavily in Leo's rocking chair.
“Rico?”
He handed me the letter.
I hesitated.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
I began reading.
Rico, if you're seeing this, something has gone terribly wrong.
I tried to tell you about the foundation. I tried to tell you about Vincent.
But I also need to tell you something about Leo.
My eyes moved down the page.
The night Leo was born, Vincent arranged for hospital records to be changed.
I discovered it while reviewing the foundation accounts.
Someone has been using our son's identity.
I looked up.
Rico was staring at the hard drive.
“What does that mean?”
His voice was hollow.
“I don't know.”
I continued.
If Vincent learns that I found the trust documents, he'll come for the money.
And if the money is gone, he'll come for Leo.
I looked toward the sleeping child.
Rico stood.
“Dante!”
The door opened almost immediately.
“Boss?”
“Secure this house.”
Dante frowned.
“What happened?”
Rico lifted the letter.
“My uncle didn't just steal from me.”
His gaze moved to the little boy beneath the blue blanket.
“He's been stealing from my son since the day he was born.”
Then the nursery lights went out.
A sharp electronic chirp sounded from the hallway.
Dante reached for his radio.
“Security, report.”
Static.
Nothing else.
Rico moved toward Leo's bed.
And from somewhere downstairs, a woman's voice began calling the little boy's name.
“Leo, sweetheart.”
May you like
I froze.
Because the voice sounded exactly like Elena Moretti.
