Chapter 5 - THE BROKEN DOOR
“Stay behind me,” Luca ordered.
He drew his gun, raising it with practiced, terrifying precision. He didn’t look like a wealthy businessman anymore. He looked like the mafia boss the newspapers claimed he was.
I pressed my back against the hallway wall, my hands covering my mouth to keep from screaming.
Luca stepped silently through the broken doorway.
He cleared the small living room.
“Clear,” he whispered.
I followed him inside.
The apartment was in shambles.
The coffee table was overturned. The TV was smashed.
And lying on the floor near the kitchen island was Sarah, the sixteen-year-old girl from downstairs who babysat Leo.
“Sarah!” I cried, rushing to her side.
She was conscious, clutching her head, weeping hysterically. A nasty purple bruise was already forming on her cheekbone.
“Emma... I’m sorry... I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“Where is he?” I demanded, grabbing her shoulders. “Where is Leo?”
Sarah pointed a trembling finger toward the short hallway that led to the bedrooms.
“Two men,” she gasped. “They broke in. They hit me. They went straight to his room.”
I didn’t wait for Luca to clear the rest of the apartment.
Adrenaline and pure maternal instinct overrode all logic.
I sprinted down the hall.
“Leo!” I screamed.
I burst into his small bedroom.
The bed was unmade. The closet doors were thrown open.
The room was empty.
My knees buckled. I hit the cheap carpet, a raw, animalistic sob tearing from my throat.
They took him. Matteo took my baby.
Luca stepped into the room behind me, his gun still raised. He scanned the corners, his face tight with anger.
Then, a tiny, muffled sound came from the corner of the room.
Not the closet.
Not the bed.
The large wooden toy chest.
I scrambled across the floor on my hands and knees.
I threw open the heavy wooden lid.
Curled in a tight ball among stuffed animals and plastic blocks was Leo.
He was shaking violently, his eyes wide with absolute terror.
But he was there. He was whole.
“Leo!”
I reached in and pulled him out, crushing him to my chest. I buried my face in his soft brown hair, weeping uncontrollably. “Mommy’s here. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Leo wrapped his small arms tightly around my neck.
He spoke with the quiet, devastating honesty of a six-year-old who doesn’t understand the cruelty of the world.
“Mommy, a man said he was your friend. He said you sent him to get me.”
I pulled back, looking at his tear-streaked face. “Did he hurt you, baby?”
“No,” Leo sniffled. “He just looked in my closet. I got scared and hid in the box like we practiced for the bad thunderstorms.”
I kissed his forehead again and again. “You did so good, baby. You were so brave.”
Luca slowly lowered his gun, letting out a long, heavy breath.
The relief in the room was palpable, but it was quickly replaced by confusion.
“If they broke in to kidnap him,” Luca said softly, stepping further into the room, “why didn’t they drag him out of the toy box? A grown man would easily find a child hiding in a wooden chest.”
He was right.
It didn’t make sense. Matteo’s men were professionals. They didn’t just give up.
“What did they want?” Luca muttered, looking around the room.
His eyes stopped on the open closet.
He walked over and looked inside.
“Emma,” Luca said. “What is missing from here?”
I stood up, holding Leo’s hand, and looked into the small closet.
The row of tiny hangers was mostly undisturbed.
Except for one spot.
“His winter coat,” I said, confusion lacing my voice. “The heavy blue one. It’s gone.”
Luca’s jaw clenched.
“They didn’t come to take him, Emma. They came to take a piece of his clothing. To prove to you they had him. They expect you to be standing in the study when Matteo pulls that blue coat out of a bag.”
It was psychological torture. Matteo wanted me paralyzed with fear, compliant and silent, believing my son was dead or captive.
As Luca stepped back from the closet, his expensive leather shoe crunched on something hard on the carpet.
He looked down.
He bent over and picked up a small, glittering object.
He held it up to the dim bedroom light.
It was a heavy, solid gold cufflink. Engraved with a unique geometric pattern.
I recognized it immediately.
“That’s...” I stammered.
“Marcus,” Luca finished, his voice turning lethally cold.
The reversal hit like a physical blow.
Matteo didn’t just sneak into the house tonight. He didn’t bypass the security cameras in the pantry on his own.
Marcus, the man sworn to protect Luca with his life, was the traitor. The entire security apparatus of the Moretti family was compromised.
And right on cue, the silence of the room was shattered by a loud vibration.
Luca’s phone was ringing in his pocket.
He pulled it out.
He looked at the caller ID.
He answered it, putting it on speaker so I could hear.
Vanessa’s voice filled the room, frantic and breathless.
“Luca. Where are you?”
“I’m taking out the trash, Vanessa,” Luca said coldly.
“Listen to me!” Vanessa cried. “You have to run. Don’t come back to the estate. Matteo called the capos. All five heads of the Chicago families are sitting in your dining room right now.”
May you like
Luca’s eyes darkened. “He called a tribunal.”
“He told them you murdered Don Carmine to start a war,” Vanessa sobbed. “He told them you have the Don’s watch in your safe. If you don’t walk through those doors in the next twenty minutes and prove him wrong, they will vote to strip you of your title. And Matteo will send Marcus to hunt you down.”
