Chapter 4 - THE STOLEN HEIR
The silence in the cramped orphanage bedroom was absolute, broken only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the sleeping child.
Adrian Moretti, a man who rarely showed emotion, looked entirely shattered. He stared at the little boy holding the gold watch—his watch.
“He’s my son,” Adrian repeated, the words tasting completely foreign to him.
He turned sharply to Sister Mary. “Explain this. Now.”
Sister Mary didn't flinch. She folded her hands in front of her gray habit.
“Five years ago, Vanessa came to this orphanage,” the nun said quietly, leading us out into the hallway and closing the door so as not to wake the boy. “She was pregnant. She paid a substantial donation to keep her name off the registry. She gave birth here, handed the boy over to me, and left.”
“Why didn't she tell me?” Adrian’s voice was a dangerous, low rumble. “Why would she hide my own child from me?”
“Because you weren't the boss yet, Adrian,” Sister Mary replied calmly. “Your older brother, Julian, was the head of the family. Julian hated Vanessa. He told her if she ever trapped you with a child, he would ensure she was entirely cut off from the family wealth. She didn't want a child. She wanted the crown.”
The revelation hit me like a physical blow. Vanessa had abandoned her own infant son in a cold orphanage just to protect her social standing and her path to the Moretti fortune.
“And the watch?” I asked softly.
“She stole it from your nightstand before she left for the orphanage, Mr. Moretti,” Sister Mary explained. “She left it with the boy. She told me it was a 'down payment' for his silence.”
Adrian leaned against the peeling wallpaper of the hallway, rubbing a hand aggressively over his face.
“I’m taking him,” Adrian said, standing up straight. “I’m taking my son home tonight.”
“You can’t,” Sister Mary warned.
“I can do whatever I want.”
“You misunderstand me, Adrian,” the nun said softly. “You can’t take him, because Vanessa legally terminated her parental rights. But she didn't name you as the father. Legally, he is a ward of the state. If you try to walk out of here with him, it’s kidnapping. And Vanessa’s lawyers will ensure the state takes him away from you forever.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might shatter.
“Then what do I do?” he demanded.
Before Sister Mary could answer, the heavy wooden doors of the orphanage downstairs crashed open with a deafening bang.
Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor below.
“Search the building! Find the kid!” a gruff voice yelled.
My blood ran cold.
Adrian instantly drew his weapon, pushing me and Sister Mary behind him.
“They tracked my SUV,” Adrian hissed, aiming his gun at the top of the stairs.
“Who?” I panicked, my injured hand throbbing violently.
“My own men,” Adrian realized, his eyes darkening with absolute fury.
He looked at me. “Vanessa wasn't locked in the study. She bought my head of security. She’s sent them to silence the boy before I could find him.”
The footsteps were pounding up the stairs.
“Sister, lock the door to the boy’s room and do not open it,” Adrian ordered.
He didn't wait. He stepped out onto the landing just as three massive men in dark suits crested the stairs, guns drawn.
I recognized them. They were the men who guarded the mansion gates.
“Boss,” the lead guard said, aiming his weapon directly at Adrian’s chest. “Vanessa says the kid is a liability to the family. She ordered us to clean it up.”
“You take orders from me,” Adrian roared.
“Not anymore,” the guard sneered.
He pulled the trigger.
Adrian moved with terrifying speed. He dodged the first shot, the bullet burying itself in the wall behind him. Adrian fired twice. The lead guard dropped instantly, tumbling backward down the wooden stairs.
The other two guards opened fire.
Adrian grabbed my arm, yanking me into the boy’s bedroom and slamming the door shut. Bullets tore through the wood, splintering the doorframe.
Sister Mary had already dragged the sleeping boy off the bed and pushed him under the heavy iron frame, shielding him with her body. The boy woke up, terrified, but he didn't scream. He just clutched the gold watch.
“We can’t stay in here,” Adrian yelled over the gunfire. “They’ll breach the door in ten seconds.”
He looked toward the window. We were on the second floor. A heavy wrought-iron fire escape ran down the side of the brick building into the alley.
Adrian shattered the window glass with the butt of his gun.
“Olivia, take my son. Go down the fire escape,” Adrian commanded, grabbing me by the shoulders. His dark eyes were intense, terrifyingly calm amidst the chaos. “Take my car. My driver is loyal to me. Get to the safehouse in the West Loop.”
“I can’t leave you!” I cried.
“I will hold them off. Go!”
I didn't argue. I scrambled over to the bed and reached under for the boy.
“Come with me, sweetie,” I said, pulling him out. He was shaking, but he wrapped his small arms tightly around my neck.
I climbed out the shattered window onto the rusted fire escape, the freezing rain immediately soaking us. I looked back inside.
Adrian was standing near the door, reloading his weapon. He looked at his son, safely in my arms, and gave me a single, firm nod.
I started down the metal stairs as fast as I could in the dark, the boy clinging to me.
Behind us, the bedroom door exploded inward.
The deafening sound of sustained gunfire erupted from the room.
I didn't stop. I hit the alley floor, clutching the boy, and ran blindly through the pouring rain toward the front of the building.
Adrian’s armored SUV was still idling at the curb. The driver, a trusted older man named Leo, saw me and threw the back doors open.
“Where’s the Boss?” Leo yelled over the storm.
“He’s inside! Drive!” I screamed, practically throwing myself and the child into the backseat.
As the SUV tore away from the curb, I looked back at the orphanage.
A body had been thrown through the second-story window, crashing onto the pavement below. It wasn't Adrian.
But before I could exhale, my cell phone buzzed in my apron pocket.
I pulled it out with shaking hands.
It was a text message from Vanessa.
You think you saved him, Olivia? You just brought him straight to me.
I looked up, panic freezing my veins.
May you like
I stared at the back of the driver's head.
Leo wasn't driving us to the West Loop safehouse. He was driving us back to the Moretti estate.
