Chapter 6 - SHATTERED GLASS IN THE EAST WING
The sound of shattering glass tore through the quiet third-floor hallway like a gunshot.
Luca didn't blink.
In less than a second, he was out of his high-backed leather chair.
His hand sliding beneath the polished wooden overhang of the desk where a custom Beretta pistol rested in a magnetic holster.
He drew the weapon with practiced, silent lethal grace.
His thumb flicking off the safety as he rounded the corner of the mahogany table.
“Stay behind me, Hannah,” he commanded in a low, vibrating growl.
His eyes fixed on the heavy oak door of the study.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
My breath came in short, ragged gasps as I pressed my back hard against the bookshelves, clutching the edge of my apron until my fingers ached.
Luca took two long, silent strides toward the door, his shoulder pressing against the frame as he peered out into the dimly lit hallway.
“Show yourself,” Luca barked, his voice echoing off the vaulted stone ceilings.
From around the corner near the private family elevator, a familiar, panicked voice rang out.
Shaking, breathless, and soaked in absolute terror.
“Mr. Moretti! Please! Don't shoot! It’s me! Marcus!”
A moment later, Marcus—one of the senior estate butlers who had served the Moretti family for over a decade—stumbled backward around the corner.
Holding his hands high in the air.
His white dress shirt was torn at the collar, and a shallow, bleeding scratch ran down the side of his pale cheek.
Luca lowered the pistol just an inch, though his finger remained firmly on the trigger.
“Marcus? What the hell are you doing wandering the third-floor east wing at two-thirty in the morning?” Luca demanded.
Stepping out into the hallway, his dark frame towering over the trembling butler.
“And what was that sound?”
Marcus swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently as he pointed a shaking finger down the corridor toward the guest suite where Sofia and her newborn baby were sleeping.
“Sir... someone... someone was trying to pick the smart-lock on the nursery door,” Marcus choked out.
His voice trembling so hard the words tumbled over each other.
“I was doing my routine security sweep of the upper corridor when I saw a man—a stranger in a black tactical jacket—kneeling by the door with a digital bypass tool.”
“When I shouted at him, he hit me across the face with a flashlight and threw a decorative vase through the stained-glass window before escaping down the service stairwell!”
Luca’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits.
“A bypass tool?” Luca repeated softly.
“On the nursery door?”
“Yes, sir!” Marcus panted, wiping blood from his cheek with the back of his trembling hand.
“He had a duffel bag, Mr. Moretti.”
“He wasn't just here to rob the estate.”
“He was looking for... for the baby.”
The blood ran cold in my veins.
*They didn't just want Sofia out of the way. They wanted the child.*
Luca didn't hesitate.
He didn't waste a single second shouting for guards or calling downstairs.
He turned on his heel, his heavy leather boots thudding against the carpeted hallway as he sprinted toward the nursery suite at the end of the east wing.
“Stay here, Hannah!” Luca shouted over his shoulder.
“I’m coming with you!” I called out, my legs moving before my brain could register the danger.
When we reached the nursery, the heavy oak door was slightly ajar.
The expensive brass smart-lock on the handle was cracked open.
Its internal circuit board sparking faintly with small wisps of grey smoke where a high-voltage bypass device had fried the digital mechanism.
Luca kicked the door wide open, his pistol raised and ready, sweeping the dark room in a fraction of a second.
The room was empty except for the soft glow of a nightlight.
In the center of the nursery, sitting beside a warm bassinet, Sofia was awake.
Clutching little Elena tightly against her chest.
Her eyes wide with unadulterated terror as she stared at the shattered window overlooking the snowy courtyard below.
“Sofia! Are you and the baby alright?” Luca demanded.
Rushing across the room and dropping to his knees beside her chair, his hands gently checking the infant to ensure she was unharmed.
“I... I heard a noise,” Sofia sobbed, trembling violently as she buried her face in her brother’s shoulder.
“Someone tried the handle... then the glass broke...”
“Oh God, Luca, they’re still here, aren't they?”
Luca held his sister tight, but his eyes were fixed on the shattered window pane where cold winter wind blew heavy snow flurries across the Persian rug.
He slowly stood up, walking over to the windowsill.
Resting on the wooden ledge, half-buried in melting snow that had drifted in through the broken glass, was something dark and metallic.
Luca reached out with a gloved hand and picked it up.
It was a heavy-duty tactical radio scanner—tuned directly to Moretti Holdings' private security frequency.
And engraved on the back casing was a serial number belonging to an elite private security firm that didn't answer to the Moretti family...
May you like
...an elite firm owned exclusively by Vanessa Bellini’s father.
---
