Chapter 6 - The Empty Room
“What do you mean she’s gone?!” Luca roared, his protective gentleness vanishing instantly.
Michael gripped the doorframe, gasping for air.
“I took her to my old bedroom to pack a bag,” Michael said rapidly, panic lacing every word. “I turned my back for thirty seconds to grab a coat from the closet. When I turned around... the room was empty. The window was wide open.”
Vanessa stopped weeping. She slowly pushed herself off the floor, her eyes wide with fresh horror.
“Carlo,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “His men were waiting outside.”
Luca cursed violently in Italian. He grabbed his Glock from the table, shoving it back into his shoulder holster.
“Lock down the estate!” Luca yelled, running past his brother into the grand hallway. “Nobody leaves the grounds! Check the perimeter!”
I didn't hesitate. I hiked up the wet, heavy fabric of my uniform skirt and sprinted after them.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Ivy was just a little girl. A little girl who had spent her entire life hiding her true identity, only to finally find her father and lose him in the exact same hour.
We ran up the grand sweeping staircase, taking two steps at a time.
Michael’s old bedroom was at the end of the east wing.
When we burst through the door, the cold Chicago night air was whipping through the open balcony doors, billowing the sheer white curtains like ghosts.
Luca immediately stepped onto the balcony, sweeping his flashlight over the dark, sprawling gardens below.
“There’s no ladder,” Luca deduced quickly, his eyes scanning the stone architecture. “And the drop is too high. A grown man couldn't jump this without breaking his legs, let alone carrying a child.”
Michael fell onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands.
“He took her,” Michael sobbed. “I finally had my daughter, and he took her.”
I stood in the center of the bedroom, my eyes scanning the space.
Something felt wrong.
If Carlo’s men had climbed up here, there would be mud on the pristine white carpet. There would be signs of a struggle. Ivy wouldn't have gone quietly with strangers.
I walked over to the bed.
Sitting perfectly in the center of the pillows was Ivy’s stuffed rabbit.
I picked it up.
Tucked beneath the rabbit’s worn little arm was a folded piece of paper. A child’s drawing.
“Michael,” I said softly.
He looked up, his eyes bloodshot.
I handed him the drawing.
It was drawn in bright blue crayon. It showed a tall, dark-haired man holding the hand of a little girl. Above them, drawn in clumsy, oversized letters, were the words:
I WENT TO FIND THE TRAIN.
Michael stared at the paper, confusion replacing his panic.
“The train?” Luca asked, stepping back into the room. “What train?”
Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind.
Earlier that evening, before the disastrous dinner party began, I had been dusting the library.
Ivy had been sitting on the Persian rug, playing with a set of antique wooden blocks.
“Miss Emily,” she had asked me, her big brown eyes curious. “Do trains go to Italy?”
“No, sweetie,” I had replied with a smile. “You have to take an airplane to go across the ocean.”
“But Mommy’s ticket says ‘Train to Naples,’” Ivy had said, pointing to a small slip of paper she was using as a bookmark.
I gasped, looking at Vanessa, who had just stumbled into the doorway, clutching the frame for support.
“Vanessa,” I said sharply. “Did you have a train ticket in your purse?”
Vanessa blinked, disoriented. “What? No. I don't take trains.”
“Think!” Luca barked. “Did Carlo give you anything else besides the contract?”
Vanessa’s eyes widened. She reached a shaking hand toward her mouth.
“The safety deposit box,” she whispered.
“What box?” Michael demanded, standing up.
“When my father made the original deal with Carlo five years ago,” Vanessa confessed, her voice shaking. “He put the two million dollar bribe into a safety deposit box at Union Station. He gave Carlo the claim ticket. The ticket had ‘Train to Naples’ stamped on it as a code.”
I looked down at the child’s drawing.
“Ivy found the ticket,” I realized, the pieces clicking together. “She didn't get kidnapped by Carlo’s men. She ran away. She thinks if she finds the ‘Train to Naples,’ she can take the money and pay off the bad men so her dad won't be in danger.”
Michael looked at the drawing, a fresh wave of tears hitting his eyes.
“She’s nine years old,” he choked out. “She’s trying to buy my life.”
Luca didn't waste another second.
“Union Station,” he commanded. “Now.”
We sprinted back down the stairs and burst out the front doors of the mansion.
Luca’s black armored SUV was idling in the driveway.
He threw open the passenger door for me, completely ignoring the fact that I was still wearing a wine-stained maid’s uniform.
Michael dove into the back seat.
Vanessa ran toward the car. “Let me come!”
Luca slammed his door shut, locking it.
He rolled down the window just enough to look her in the eye.
“You made your bed, Vanessa,” Luca said coldly. “Now sit in it.”
He hit the gas, and the heavy SUV tore down the gravel driveway, leaving Vanessa standing alone in the cold.
The drive to downtown Chicago was a blur of neon lights and screeching tires.
Luca drove with terrifying precision, weaving through traffic while keeping one hand resting near his weapon.
“If Carlo realizes she has the claim ticket,” Michael said from the back seat, his voice trembling in the dark. “He’ll go straight to the station. He won't care about the ring anymore. He’ll take the two million and the girl.”
I clutched my grandmother’s silver ring through my uniform.
“He won't get her,” I said fiercely, surprising myself with the strength in my voice.
Luca glanced at me, the streetlights catching the sharp angle of his jaw.
A small, proud smile touched his lips.
“Spoken like a true Boss,” Luca murmured.
We arrived at Union Station in record time.
The massive, cavernous train terminal was nearly empty at this hour, echoing with the sound of distant announcements and sweeping brooms.
We ran through the heavy brass doors, scanning the sea of marble floors and wooden benches.
“The safety deposit lockers are in the lower concourse,” Luca said, pointing toward a grand staircase.
We bolted down the stairs.
As we reached the bottom, my blood ran cold.
Standing near a wall of metal lockers was a little girl in a pale pink dress.
Ivy.
She was struggling to push a small metal key into a rusted lock.
May you like
And walking directly toward her from the shadows, leaning heavily on his cane, was Carlo Romano.
“Well, well,” Carlo’s voice echoed against the marble walls. “Look what the train brought in.”
