Chapter 6 - THE EMPTY CRIBHunter’s scream tore through the third floor.
It was not graceful. It was not controlled. It came from a place below language, the same place that had screamed inside her when the doctor told her Lily had no heartbeat.
The crib was empty.
Leo was gone.
For one impossible second, Hunter could not move.
Then Lorenzo’s voice exploded behind her.
“Seal the estate!”
Men scattered.
Hunter grabbed the crib rail so hard her nails bent.
The blanket still held warmth.
“He was just here,” she said. “He was just here.”
Lorenzo lifted the note with a handkerchief. His face was no longer human in any ordinary way. It was grief wearing the skin of violence.
ASK MARIA WHAT SOPHIA KNEW.
“Who is Maria?” Hunter demanded.
Lorenzo did not answer.
“Lorenzo!”
He looked at her then, and for the first time since she had met him, she saw pure panic.
“Sophia,” he said. “Maria was Sophia.”
Hunter stared.
“Her full name?”
“Sophia Maria Bellini Rossi.”
“Then ask Maria means ask Sophia.”
“She’s dead.”
“Then somebody wants us to ask what she left behind.”
Dr. Halloran ran into the nursery, breathing hard.
“The day nurse is alive,” he said. “Unconscious in the bathroom. Sedated.”
Hunter looked around wildly.
“How could someone get him out? There are guards everywhere.”
Marco appeared at the door.
“Service elevator. Camera looped. Someone used Lorenzo’s private code.”
Lorenzo turned slowly.
Only a handful of people had that code.
The betrayal was inside the walls, close enough to know passwords, schedules, grief.
Hunter forced herself to breathe.
When panic could not help, details could.
She looked at the room.
The nurse’s chair overturned. A drawer open. A small knit hat missing from the basket. Window locked. Bathroom door cracked. The air smelled faintly of vanilla.
Not baby lotion.
Perfume.
She knew that scent.
“Bianca,” she said.
Lorenzo’s eyes cut to her.
“Elena said Mrs. B came through the kitchen. She smelled expensive. Like vanilla and roses?”
Marco nodded. “Bianca Bellini wears that.”
Hunter was already moving.
“Where would she take him?”
“My men are checking exits,” Lorenzo said.
“No. Think like a grandmother who believes she has a right to the baby. She won’t run immediately if she thinks the estate is being locked down. She’ll hide somewhere she knows.”
Lorenzo’s gaze sharpened.
“Sophia’s room.”
They ran.
Sophia’s room looked untouched at first.
But Hunter saw the difference.
The blue silk scarf was gone from the chair.
The book on the nightstand had been moved.
Lorenzo crossed to the wardrobe and pulled open the doors.
Empty dresses. Shoes. Hatboxes.
No baby.
Hunter moved to the bedside table.
The book was not a novel.
It was a photo album.
Inside were pictures of Sophia as a child. Sophia with Mara. Sophia with Bianca, a beautiful gray-haired woman with eyes that seemed too cold for her smile.
On the final page, behind a photo, Hunter saw the edge of an envelope.
“Lorenzo.”
He turned.
She pulled it free.
On the front, in elegant handwriting, was written:
FOR LORENZO, IF MY MOTHER EVER COMES FOR LEO.
Lorenzo took it like it might burn him.
His hands shook as he opened it.
Inside was a letter and a small key.
He read the first line.
His face changed.
Hunter saw rage.
Then horror.
Then something like shame.
“What does it say?” she asked.
He handed it to her because he could not speak.
Hunter read aloud.
Lorenzo,
If you are reading this, then I failed to survive long enough to tell you the truth myself. I was afraid of the wrong enemy. I thought the Morettis wanted me dead. I was wrong. The danger was my own blood.
My mother never forgave me for marrying you. Not because you were violent. Not because of what you were. Because marrying you took the Bellini fortune out of her hands.
Mara found the documents first. She discovered my mother had been moving family assets through charities, shell foundations, and medical grants. When Mara threatened to expose her, she drowned.
It was not an accident.
Lorenzo made a sound Hunter had never heard from him before.
A broken, animal sound.
Hunter kept reading because stopping would have been worse.
I found proof after Mara died. I hid it where only you would think to look after you stopped being angry at me. My mother knows about the baby’s blood type. She will use it. She will make you doubt him. Do not.
Leo is yours.
The records were altered because I had a rare transfusion after the miscarriages, and my mother used that confusion to plant doubt. Dr. Kline helped her. He is paid through Northbridge accounts.
If something happens to me, ask Maria.
Ask the woman I was before I became afraid.
Find the music box.
The letter ended there.
Hunter looked at the key in Lorenzo’s palm.
“Music box,” she said.
Lorenzo turned to the vanity.
There, beneath a line of perfume bottles, sat a small antique music box inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
He inserted the key.
It opened.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a tiny gold bracelet.
Mara’s bracelet.
Before either of them could speak, a baby cried.
Very faint.
Not from the hallway.
Not from the nursery.
From behind the wall.
Hunter’s head snapped up.
“There.”
Lorenzo moved to the wardrobe again, pushing aside dresses.
Hunter followed the sound.
The cry came from behind a full-length mirror mounted between two bookcases.
Lorenzo pressed along the frame until something clicked.
The mirror swung open.
Behind it was a narrow servants’ passage.
And at the far end, in the red wash of emergency lights, Bianca Bellini stood holding Leo.
She wore a cream coat and pearls.
Leo was wrapped in Sophia’s blue silk scarf.
A gun rested against his blanket.
Hunter stopped breathing.
Bianca smiled.
“Hello, Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo lifted his weapon.
“Put him down.”
Bianca looked offended.
“He is my grandson.”
Hunter stepped forward before anyone could stop her.
“He’s hungry.”
Bianca’s eyes flicked to her.
“So this is the cow.”
Lorenzo’s gun hand tightened.
Hunter did not flinch.
“No,” Hunter said. “I’m the reason he’s still alive.”
Bianca’s smile faded.
“You should have stayed downstairs.”
“I heard that already.”
Leo cried again, weak but rising.
Hunter kept her voice calm.
“He needs to eat. You know that. You tried hard enough to stop him.”
Bianca’s face changed just enough.
Lorenzo saw it.
“You poisoned my son,” he said.
“I protected my family,” Bianca replied.
“From a baby?”
“From a lie. From Sophia’s weakness. From you.”
Lorenzo stepped forward.
Bianca pressed the gun closer to Leo.
Hunter’s heart stopped.
“Don’t,” Bianca said. “I have lost two daughters because of this family. Do not make me lose everything else.”
Lorenzo froze.
Hunter heard the crack in Bianca’s words.
Not remorse.
Possession.
A woman who did not love people.
Only what she could own.
Hunter slowly raised her hands.
“Give him to me.”
Bianca laughed.
“You?”
“He’ll quiet with me. If you want to talk, let him eat.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“I think you’re cornered,” Hunter said. “And I think if he dies in your arms, whatever story you planned dies with him.”
Bianca stared at her.
The passage seemed to hold its breath.
Leo cried harder.
Bianca’s eyes flickered. The sound annoyed her. Maybe frightened her. Maybe reminded her that a baby was not a document she could forge or a daughter she could silence.
Slowly, she extended him.
Lorenzo moved.
“No,” Hunter whispered. “Let me.”
She stepped into the passage.
One step.
Two.
Her arms reached for Leo.
Bianca leaned close as she handed him over.
Her perfume filled Hunter’s lungs.
Vanilla and roses.
“You think feeding him makes you important?” Bianca whispered.
Hunter took Leo into her arms.
The moment he touched her, she felt his whole body tremble.
“No,” Hunter whispered back. “Saving him does.”
Bianca’s eyes hardened.
Then she raised the gun.
Not at Leo.
May you like
At Hunter.
The shot rang through the passage.
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