Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Nursery
I stared at the tablet screen in my darkened study, the blue light reflecting off my knuckles as I gripped the edges of the metal casing.
The grainy infrared footage from the service kitchen was timestamped ninety-two days ago at 11:14 PM.
There was Vivien, wearing a dark cashmere coat, leaning over the marble island. She was pouring a colorless liquid from a medical ampoule into my mother’s chamomile tea.
Beside her stood a tall man in a bespoke trench coat. His face was angled away from the lens, obscured by the brim of a fedora, but on his left wrist gleamed a very distinct, custom-made platinum Patek Philippe watch with a jagged scar running across the back of his hand.
"Do we have a match on the watch or the scar?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.
"Running it through the syndicate databases now, Boss," Rocco replied, his broad shoulders tense. "Whoever crept into this house bypassed a two-million-dollar biometric security grid. They had inside codes."
"My codes," I said coldly. "Or Vivien’s."
I handed the tablet back to him and pulled the small glass vial of Bordeaux from my desk drawer.
"Take this to Dr. Moretti's private lab. Tell him to test it for sedatives or potassium compounds. Tonight."
Rocco pocketed the vial Carefully. "And the woman?"
"She thinks I'm sedated," I said, unbuttoning my cuffs and rolling up my sleeves. "Which means tonight she’s going to make a move. Put two men on my mother’s door, and come with me to the third floor."
We used the hidden servants' staircase—a narrow passageway built by my grandfather during Prohibition that connected the master study directly to the upper wings without triggering the main hallway sensors.
When we reached the third floor where the live-in staff quarters were located, the corridor was pitch black.
Wait. The sconces on the third floor were wired to stay at thirty percent illumination all night because Mia was afraid of the dark.
I held up a fist. Rocco instantly drew his suppressed Sig Sauer.
Ahead of us, the door to Elena and Mia’s suite was slightly ajar. A faint, metallic scraping sound echoed from inside, followed by a muffled gasp.
I moved faster than I ever had in my life, kicking the door open with my weapon raised.
A hooded figure dressed entirely in black tactical gear had Elena pinned against the dresser, a chloroformed rag pressed over her mouth. Across the room, Mia was curled inside her crib, silently weeping, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest.
The intruder spun around, pulling a combat knife from his belt.
He never got to use it.
I crossed the room in two strides, grabbing his knife wrist with my left hand and snapping the radius bone with a sickening crack before driving my right fist straight into his throat. He collapsed to the hardwood floor, gasping for air as Rocco dropped a knee onto his spine and zip-tied his wrists.
I holstered my gun and immediately went to Elena, catching her by the shoulders before her knees buckled.
"Elena, breathe. Look at me," I commanded softly. "I've got you."
"Mia!" she gasped, tears streaming down her face as she fought off the dizziness from the chemicals. "He was going to take Mia! He had a duffel bag by the window!"
I stepped over to the crib and lifted the trembling three-year-old into my arms. Mia buried her face into my neck, her tiny heart hammering against my collarbones like a trapped bird.
"You're safe, piccola," I murmured into her dark curls, kissing the top of her head. "Uncle Lorenzo is here. Nobody is ever going to touch you."
Elena stumbled over, wrapping her arms around both of us, sobbing quietly into Mia's red pajamas. For a moment, the ruthless billionaire don faded away, replaced by a man who realized that these two powerless people were the only genuine souls left under his roof.
I looked down at the bleeding intruder pinned beneath Rocco's boot. I reached down with my free hand and ripped the black ski mask off his face.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Boss?" Rocco whispered, stunned.
May you like
Lying on the floor wasn't a random hitman from a rival family. It was Luca Vance—the personal bodyguard of my dead father’s most trusted lawyer, the man currently holding the executor keys to the entire Duca fortune.
---
