Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY BEDROOM IN THE EAST WING
The silence that followed Liam's words was broken only by the crackle of the fireplace. Luca Moretti moved with terrifying speed. In two strides, he had his encrypted comms unit out of his jacket, tapping the screen with hardened precision. "Control, status on East Gate perimeter," Luca barked into the receiver.“All clear, boss. No unauthorized vehicles exiting,” the static-laced voice of the head of security replied. "I didn't ask who was leaving," Luca snarled, his eyes fixed on Liam. "I asked who came in through the service delivery gate within the last two hours." A pause. Heavy breathing on the other end.“Sir... delivery truck from the downtown bakery. Driver cleared with a standard Moretti passkey.” "Whose passkey?" “Mr. Reynolds's personal logistics account, sir.” Every head in the room snapped toward Reynolds. The older man turned the color of parchment. "No! That's impossible! I didn't authorize any delivery tonight! My logistics portal must have been hacked!" Luca didn't wait to hear another word. He holstered his comms unit, drew a suppressed firearm from his shoulder holster with practiced ease, and looked at Natalie standing near the serving cart. "Natalie," Luca ordered. "Stay with Mrs. Ellis and Liam. Lock these doors from the inside." "Mr. Moretti, let me come with you," Natalie pleaded, her heart hammering against her ribs. "That boy... if he's here, he might be terrified." Luca hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. "Stay behind me. Do not step out of my line of sight." They burst out of the dining room into the grand hallway. The rest of the guests were left behind in a state of paralyzed shock. Margaret sank into her chair, clutching the pink ribbon to her chest while Liam sprinted after Luca and Natalie toward the grand mahogany staircase leading to the East Wing. The Moretti estate was massive—a sprawling Victorian-Gothic fortress filled with centuries-old antiques, winding corridors, and hidden panic rooms. The East Wing was usually reserved for high-ranking syndicate guests or long-term family members. Tonight, it was pitch black. "The smart-home automation system has been overridden," Luca muttered, shining a tactical flashlight down the dim hallway. "The smart locks on guest suite 404 are disengaged." Natalie trailed closely behind Luca, her breathing shallow. The walls seemed to close in around them as they moved deeper into the unfrequented section of the mansion. "Why would someone bring the boy here?" Natalie whispered, her voice trembling. "If Reynolds didn't do it, and Vanessa didn't do it..." "Because someone wants to start a war," Luca answered coldly. "Or someone wants to finish one." They reached the heavy oak door of suite 404. The door was ajar by an inch. A pale sliver of light spilled out onto the dark hardwood floor. Luca raised his weapon, pressed his back against the wall beside the frame, and kicked the door wide open. "Clear!" Luca shouted softly, sweeping the room with his laser sight. Natalie rushed in behind him. The room was lavishly decorated with velvet drapes and a king-sized canopy bed. But the bed was pristine, untouched. Instead, huddled in the corner near the walk-in closet, was a small figure wrapped in a gray woolen blanket. It was a boy. He couldn't have been more than nine years old. His dark curls were messy, his face stained with dried tears, and his little hands clutched a battered plastic toy truck. "Leo?" Liam gasped, rushing past Luca and dropping to his knees. The boy flinched, burying his face in his knees. "Daddy? Are you... are you real? Or am I dreaming again?" Liam wrapped his arms around the child, pulling him into his chest so hard his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. "I'm real, buddy. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Natalie felt a tear slip down her own cheek. She crouched down beside them. "Hey, sweetie. Do you remember me? I'm Natalie." Leo peeked out from under his father's arm. He looked at Natalie, then past her at the tall, intimidating man standing in the doorway with a gun in his hand. "Is he the bad man?" Leo whispered. Luca slowly lowered his weapon, clicking the safety back on with a soft click. He crouched down until he was at eye level with the nine-year-old boy. "No, son," Luca said, his voice softer than Natalie had ever heard it. "I'm not the bad man." Leo studied Luca's expensive suit, the cold precision in his eyes, and then the little blue paper crown that Natalie had instinctively picked up from the dining room and slipped into her pocket. The boy's eyes lit up. "You have my crown!" Leo said, pointing a small finger. "Mommy said she lost it at the kindergarten gate!" The air in the room turned to ice. Luca looked at the boy. Then he looked at the open window on the far side of the suite. The glass was shattered from the outside. A tactical rappelling rope hung limply over the windowsill, swaying gently in the freezing Chicago wind. On the mahogany desk beneath the window sat a single, heavy envelope stamped with a red wax seal. A Moretti syndicate seal. Luca stood up, walking slowly toward the desk. He picked up the letter, broke the wax seal, and unfolded the heavy parchment paper. Natalie watched his face as he read the single line written inside. The color didn't just drain from Luca's face this time—it seemed as though his very soul had frozen over. "What does it say, Mr. Moretti?" Natalie asked, her voice shaking. Luca folded the paper. His knuckles turned white. "It says," Luca whispered, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure malice, "Welcome to the family, Leo. Now watch your father burn for what your mother stole from us ten years ago."
