Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE BURNED COAT
Eight months earlier, Sophia had been finishing laundry after midnight when someone knocked on the servants' entrance.
Three soft knocks.
A pause.
Then two more.
Sophia had opened the door expecting one of the night guards.
Instead, a woman collapsed into her arms.
Her coat smelled of smoke.
Her face was bruised and partly wrapped in gauze.
Blood had dried along her hairline.
Against her chest she carried a newborn.
“Please.”
That was the first word the woman said.
Sophia had almost screamed.
Then she saw the ring.
Sempre tua.
Every servant in the mansion knew Isabella wore it.
“Ms. Conti?”
The woman shook her head violently.
“No names.”
She pushed the baby toward Sophia.
“Keep her hidden.”
Sophia stared at the child.
“What happened?”
“They're watching the house.”
“Who?”
The woman looked over Sophia's shoulder.
“Someone Lorenzo trusts.”
That sentence had haunted Sophia ever since.
The woman stayed less than forty minutes.
She refused a doctor.
She refused to let Sophia call Lorenzo.
She explained that the convoy attack had been staged.
The vehicle carrying Isabella and the baby had been forced off the road.
Someone had removed them before the explosion.
Isabella escaped hours later during a transfer.
She had carried the baby through drainage tunnels until a delivery driver found them.
The driver gave her a coat and drove her into Brooklyn.
Then she came to the mansion.
But she had seen something outside.
A black sedan.
One of Lorenzo's own security vehicles.
So she didn't enter through the front.
She went to the servants' door.
Before leaving, she placed the baby into Sophia's arms.
“If I don't come back by sunrise, move her.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere Lorenzo's people won't look.”
Sophia had stared at her.
“Why not tell him?”
The woman's eyes filled.
“Because I don't know which of them belongs to him anymore.”
Then she disappeared into the rain.
She never returned.
Sophia hid the infant beneath the mansion for one night.
At dawn she contacted Father Gabriel Moretti, an elderly priest who had baptized Emma.
He found a temporary safe house.
Three days later, Father Gabriel vanished.
The baby disappeared with him.
Sophia tried everything.
She searched shelters.
Church records.
Hospitals.
Nothing.
Then two men came to her apartment.
They never gave their names.
They showed her a photograph of Emma walking home from daycare.
One man said only one sentence.
“Forget the baby existed.”
Sophia obeyed.
Until Emma spoke.
Back in the hidden room, Lorenzo listened without interrupting.
When Sophia finished, he walked to the wall and pressed both hands against the stone.
Antonio remained silent.
Finally Lorenzo asked, “Why didn't you tell me?”
“They knew Emma's daycare.”
“You could have come directly to me.”
“I didn't know if the men threatening me worked for you.”
Lorenzo turned.
The words hurt because they were reasonable.
Eight months ago, everyone in New York believed Lorenzo's organization was impenetrable.
Now he knew someone had used his own cars to help abduct Isabella.
Someone had falsified a body identification.
Someone had threatened a maid.
Someone had erased a priest.
And that someone had stood beside Lorenzo while he lowered two coffins into the ground.
Lorenzo looked at Antonio.
“Pull every security roster from the week of the crash.”
Antonio nodded.
“Quietly?”
“Completely.”
Sophia took Emma into her arms.
Lorenzo looked at the photograph again.
His daughter.
Alive after the crash.
At least for several days.
Possibly still alive now.
Hope was dangerous.
Lorenzo knew that better than anyone.
But he couldn't kill it anymore.
As they climbed back upstairs, Lorenzo noticed something on the basement floor.
A fresh shoe print.
Large.
Male.
Sophia looked at it.
“That wasn't there earlier.”
Antonio immediately drew his pistol.
Lorenzo's gaze moved toward the staircase.
May you like
Someone had been listening.
Then the lights went out.
