Chapter 3 - THE BOY IN THE EMPTY CARDIAC WARD
The silence in the foyer fractured into pure chaos.
“What did you say?” Luca breathed, grabbing my shoulders.
“Chicago General,” I said quickly, the memory rushing back. “My mother is in the cardiac recovery ward. There was a little boy in the bed next to hers. He had dark hair, just like Sophie’s. The nurses called him Leo Bellini.”
Vanessa let out a horrific scream.
“Shut her up! She’s lying! She’s a stupid maid!”
“Daniel!” Luca roared, his voice shaking the crystal chandeliers. “Put her in the vault. Call the hospital. Tell them if anyone touches that boy, I will burn the building to the ground.”
Daniel dragged a kicking, screaming Vanessa away.
Luca didn't wait.
He turned to Sophie, scooping the eight-year-old girl into his arms.
“We’re going to get your brother, bug,” he whispered fiercely into her hair.
He looked at me.
“You’re coming with us, Hannah. I need you to show me the room.”
I didn't argue. I threw my coat over my maid’s uniform and ran out to the driveway.
Three black SUVs were already waiting, engines roaring in the cold Chicago night.
We tore through the city streets, running every red light.
Luca sat in the back with Sophie, holding her so tightly I thought she might break.
He didn't speak. He just stared out the window, a father realizing he had missed eight years of his son’s life.
Ten minutes later, we skidded to a halt outside the emergency room.
Luca’s men swarmed the entrance, ignoring the protests of the security guards.
“Fourth floor,” I said, leading the way to the elevators. “Room 412.”
The elevator ride felt like an eternity.
The doors dinged open.
The cardiac ward was quiet, bathed in harsh fluorescent light.
I ran down the hallway, my heart pounding in my throat.
Room 412.
I pushed the door open.
My mother was asleep in the bed by the window, her heart monitor beeping steadily.
But the bed near the door—Leo’s bed—was empty.
The sheets were stripped.
The IV pole was pushed to the corner.
Luca stepped into the room behind me, taking in the empty bed.
The hope that had ignited in his eyes slowly turned to ash.
“Where is he?” Luca asked, his voice dangerously low.
A terrified night nurse stepped into the doorway, flanked by Daniel.
“Mr. Moretti,” she stammered. “The boy was discharged twenty minutes ago.”
“By who?” Luca demanded.
“His grandfather,” the nurse cried. “Marcus Bellini. He had the legal paperwork. He took him in a private wheelchair.”
Luca punched the wall. The plaster cracked under his knuckles.
We were too late. Marcus Bellini had known Vanessa’s plan was failing and had moved his prize.
Sophie walked over to the empty hospital bed.
She didn't cry.
Instead, she reached under the thin hospital pillow.
“Daddy?”
Sophie turned around.
In her small hands, she held a piece of white printer paper.
It was a child’s drawing.
Done in blue and red crayons.
Luca knelt beside her, taking the paper carefully.
I leaned over his shoulder to look.
It was a drawing of a little boy looking out a window.
Outside the window was a massive, rusted Ferris wheel sitting next to a dark body of water.
And scrawled at the top in messy, eight-year-old handwriting were three words.
The sad boats.
Luca stared at the Ferris wheel.
“Navy Pier,” he whispered. “The old abandoned docks behind the carnival grounds.”
He stood up, his eyes hardening into something lethal.
“Marcus isn't hiding him. He’s putting him on a smuggler’s boat to get him out of the country.”
Luca turned to Daniel.
“Mobilize everyone. We’re going to the pier.”
But as Luca turned to leave, I noticed something else on the empty hospital bed.
Half-hidden under the mattress was a small, leather-bound notebook.
A nurse’s daily log.
I picked it up.
The name on the cover made my blood run completely cold.
May you like
It didn't belong to the hospital.
It was my mother’s handwriting.
