Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE WITH TOO MANY LOCKS
Emma agreed to go to the Romano estate for one night.
One.
She made Luca say it twice.
“I am not your employee.”
“Fine.”
“I am not Matteo’s nanny.”
“Fine.”
“I leave tomorrow.”
Luca looked at his sleeping son in her arms.
“We’ll see.”
Emma almost turned around.
Instead she climbed into the armored SUV because Matteo had just finished a bottle of the correct formula and fallen asleep against her shoulder.
The Romano estate sat behind iron gates on twelve acres north of Chicago.
It looked less like a home than a private embassy.
Stone walls.
Security cameras.
Patrol vehicles.
Men positioned at entrances.
Emma counted seven visible guards before Luca noticed.
“Looking for exits?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“People who don’t look for exits are either stupid or planning to stay forever.”
She looked at him.
“That might be the first sensible thing you’ve said.”
Marco laughed from the front seat.
Luca glared at him.
Emma smiled.
Inside, the mansion was quieter than the restaurant.
Too quiet.
Sofia’s presence remained everywhere.
A photograph on the piano.
A shawl over a chair.
A pair of reading glasses beside a book.
Flowers dying in a vase.
Luca walked past all of it without looking.
Emma noticed anyway.
Then she entered Matteo’s nursery.
And stopped.
A small silver medal hung from the crib.
St. Christopher.
Oval.
Worn at the edges.
Emma’s heart stumbled.
She stepped closer.
Four years earlier, after Noah died, a woman had sat beside Emma in the hospital chapel.
Emma had been twenty-seven.
Broken.
Barely aware of anything.
The woman never gave her full name.
She had simply sat beside her.
Then placed a small St. Christopher medal in Emma’s palm.
“For when you need to remember that surviving is also a journey.”
Emma had kept it.
Hidden in a box with Noah’s hospital bracelet.
The medal hanging above Matteo’s crib was almost identical.
Luca noticed her expression.
“What?”
“Where did Sofia get that?”
He looked.
“She wore it when she was younger.”
“My mother gave it to her.”
Emma stared.
“Was Sofia ever involved with St. Catherine’s pediatric wing?”
Luca’s attention sharpened.
“Yes.”
“She volunteered there.”
“Why?”
“Why are you asking?”
Emma swallowed.
“I think I met your wife.”
That silenced him.
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
She told him.
Not everything.
Just enough.
Hospital chapel.
Noah.
A stranger.
A medal.
Luca opened a drawer in Sofia’s dresser.
Inside was a photograph.
Sofia.
Younger.
Standing beneath the sign for St. Catherine’s Pediatric Heart Center.
Emma’s knees weakened.
“That’s her.”
Luca stared at the photograph.
Then at Emma.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
A dead woman had connected them before either knew the other existed.
Luca seemed equally disturbed.
Before either could speak, Marco entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We checked nursery access.”
“And?”
“The hall camera went offline for eleven minutes this afternoon.”
“When?”
“Twenty-two minutes before Matteo started screaming.”
Emma felt cold.
“Who entered?”
“We don’t know.”
“The nursery door sensor opened once.”
Luca’s expression darkened.
“Access code?”
Marco hesitated.
“Master household code.”
“Who has that?”
“Seven people.”
“Names.”
Marco listed them.
Luca.
Marco.
Rosa.
House manager.
Security chief.
Sofia, until her death.
And Vittorio Romano.
Luca turned toward the crib.
Matteo slept beneath the small silver medal.
Then Emma noticed something else.
A white envelope tucked beneath the mattress.
She pulled it free.
Luca immediately moved closer.
On the front, in elegant handwriting:
FOR LUCA — IF I DON’T GET THE CHANCE TO TELL YOU MYSELF
Luca stopped breathing.
Sofia’s handwriting.
He opened it.
Inside was one page.
Only three lines.
Luca,
If something happens to me, do not assume the enemy is outside the family.
And no matter what anyone tells you, protect Matteo from the man who calls himself his second father.
Emma looked at Luca.
“Who calls himself your second father?”
He did not answer.
May you like
He did not need to.
Vittorio Romano had used that phrase for twenty years.
