Chapter 4 - The Key Sofia Hid
Elena stared at the key.
Her mother’s name looked back at her.
Teresa covered her mouth.
Dr. Vale whispered, “Sofia.”
Outside the door, Lorenzo and Marco were still speaking.
Elena slipped the key into her apron pocket.
“Don’t tell him yet,” she whispered.
Teresa looked shocked.
“Lorenzo?”
“Marco.”
Dr. Vale nodded.
The hallway conversation stopped.
Footsteps moved.
Then a violent thud hit the linen-room door.
Elena jumped.
Lorenzo’s voice came through.
“Open.”
She did.
He stepped inside and locked it behind him.
Blood marked his lip.
Elena’s eyes widened.
“Where is Marco?”
“Sleeping.”
“You killed him?”
“No.”
“That answer took too long.”
“He’ll wake up.”
Lorenzo looked at Matteo first.
Always Matteo now.
Then Elena.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He wiped his lip.
“Good.”
Teresa stared at him.
“What did Marco say?”
“That I have ten minutes before the security system resets.”
“Why would he tell you that?”
“He didn’t.”
Lorenzo held up Marco’s phone.
Elena almost smiled.
“You stole it.”
“He brought it into my house.”
Dr. Vale checked the screen.
“There are messages.”
Lorenzo scrolled.
One message had been sent thirty minutes earlier.
KEEP ROSSI UPSTAIRS UNTIL 9:40.
Another read:
THE GIRL MUST NOT LEAVE.
Elena felt cold.
“The girl.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Apparently you’ve become popular.”
“I preferred being invisible.”
“So did I.”
He went through Marco’s messages.
Most were coded.
Some were deleted.
One contact appeared repeatedly.
B.
Teresa whispered, “Bianca?”
Lorenzo did not answer.
Bianca Rossi.
Lorenzo’s aunt.
Vittorio’s younger sister.
She had managed family finances for decades.
She also adored Matteo.
Or appeared to.
“Could it be someone else?” Elena asked.
“Yes.”
Lorenzo looked at the phone.
“But it isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Marco has called her ‘B’ since he was fourteen.”
Teresa sat down on the stair.
“Mrs. Bianca would never hurt that baby.”
Lorenzo’s face turned hard.
“I used to say Marco would never betray me.”
Nobody had an answer.
Elena touched the key in her pocket.
“Lorenzo.”
He looked at her.
She brought it out.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your jacket.”
He took the key.
Saw Isabel’s name.
“Was this mine?”
“I think Sofia put it there.”
Lorenzo stared.
“She chose my funeral suit.”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“The jacket.”
He looked down at it.
“I wore this at her funeral.”
The thought silenced them.
Sofia had apparently known exactly where grief would keep an object untouched.
Lorenzo had probably stored that jacket away and avoided it.
Until tonight.
“She hid the key where you wouldn’t look,” Elena said.
“Until I needed it.”
Dr. Vale examined the tag.
“Isabel may have known what it opened.”
Elena shook her head.
“My mother never mentioned Sofia.”
“Maybe she couldn’t.”
Lorenzo returned the key.
“This belongs to you.”
“No. It was in your jacket.”
“It has your mother’s name.”
“It concerns your wife.”
“And my wife trusted your mother.”
He closed Elena’s fingers around it.
“So do I.”
The words surprised both of them.
Elena looked down.
Something had shifted since the gun in the nursery.
Not affection.
Not yet.
But trust under pressure had a dangerous way of growing quickly.
They moved down the service stairs.
At the kitchen level, the house was eerily empty.
Lorenzo led them through a wine-storage corridor toward his private office.
“If Bianca controls the main system, we can’t use house security,” he said.
“What can we use?” Elena asked.
“Something older.”
He opened a hidden wall panel.
Inside sat a landline telephone.
Dr. Vale looked amused despite the danger.
“You still have one?”
“My father trusted wires more than satellites.”
Lorenzo dialed.
A man answered immediately.
“Boss.”
“Antonio.”
Elena heard relief enter Lorenzo’s voice for the first time.
“Where are you?”
“Locked out of the property. Someone revoked our access.”
“Bianca?”
“We think so.”
“Bring six men. No family.”
Antonio paused.
“Understood.”
“And no shooting unless I give the order.”
Another pause.
“Understood.”
Lorenzo hung up.
Elena stared at him.
“What?”
“You had to tell them that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It should be.”
“It isn’t.”
A faint smile almost reached his mouth.
Then Matteo whimpered.
Both turned instantly.
Elena lifted him.
He rooted weakly.
“He’s hungry again.”
Dr. Vale checked the bottle.
“Do you have more?”
“Upstairs.”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
“We don’t go back.”
Elena’s fear returned.
“What does he eat?”
Dr. Vale frowned.
“We need the donor milk.”
Lorenzo looked at the doctor.
“Where can we get it?”
“The hospital.”
“No.”
“Then I can have some couriered.”
“Whoever interfered with his formula could interfere with that too.”
Elena had an idea.
“My apartment.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“What?”
“I brought home two sealed containers this afternoon. The hospital gave me enough for several feedings.”
“Why?”
“They weren’t sure he would take it. I was afraid someone here would throw it away before I could try.”
Lorenzo stared.
“You stole food from my house to hide it from my staff.”
“When you say it like that, it sounds rude.”
Teresa muttered, “It was rude.”
Elena ignored her.
“My apartment is twenty minutes away.”
Lorenzo shook his head.
“Too exposed.”
“Matteo needs food.”
“I’ll send someone.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why not?”
“Because you just said you don’t know who to trust.”
Lorenzo had no answer.
She continued.
“I know the building. I know the neighbors. I can get in and out.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“Fine.”
“I’m going with you.”
Dr. Vale objected.
“You cannot take Matteo into an unsecured environment.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“My house is currently controlled by people trying to starve him.”
Dr. Vale closed his mouth.
Ten minutes later, Antonio entered through the lower garage with six men.
He was broad, gray-haired, and visibly furious.
He looked at Elena holding Matteo.
Then at Lorenzo.
Then at the pistol.
“I missed something.”
“A lot.”
Lorenzo gave orders.
Teresa would stay.
Dr. Vale would remain under guard until Lorenzo decided what he believed.
Elena and Matteo would travel with Lorenzo.
Antonio objected.
“Boss—”
“My son goes where I go.”
The words came easily now.
Elena noticed.
So did Lorenzo.
They left through a maintenance tunnel beneath the property.
Elena had never imagined the Rossi mansion had tunnels.
Then again, she had never imagined she would be fleeing it beside an armed mafia boss while carrying his infant son.
The SUV reached her neighborhood at 10:18 p.m.
Her apartment building stood above a closed bakery.
Lorenzo looked at it.
“You live here?”
“Yes.”
“With locks like that?”
“They work.”
“The front door is glass.”
“It’s Brooklyn, not a bunker.”
“It should be a bunker.”
“I cannot afford a bunker.”
“I can.”
Elena gave him a look.
“No.”
He blinked.
“I didn’t offer.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking.”
“You think loudly.”
For the first time that night, Lorenzo almost laughed.
Matteo stirred.
They went upstairs.
Elena unlocked her apartment.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Lorenzo entered first.
He checked the rooms.
Then motioned Elena in.
The donor milk was in her freezer.
Still sealed.
Still cold.
She prepared a feeding.
Matteo drank.
Better this time.
Longer.
Lorenzo sat beside them on the couch.
He watched every swallow.
Elena watched him watching.
“You can hold the bottle.”
He stiffened.
“What?”
“Here.”
She placed his hand around it.
Then guided the angle.
Matteo continued eating.
Lorenzo looked stunned.
“He’s still drinking.”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t care that I’m doing it.”
“He might even prefer your hand.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“He knows your voice.”
Lorenzo looked at his son.
“I barely spoke to him.”
“You spoke outside the door.”
His eyes lifted.
Elena smiled faintly.
“He heard you.”
Lorenzo looked back down.
For several minutes, the danger disappeared.
There was only a father.
A child.
A woman who had somehow taught them both not to be afraid of each other.
Then Elena remembered the key.
She stood.
“My mother kept a locked box.”
Lorenzo followed.
“Where?”
“In my bedroom closet.”
She found it beneath old winter coats.
Small.
Metal.
She had tried opening it after Isabel died.
No key.
No label.
She brought out the brass key.
It fit.
Lorenzo’s hand moved toward his weapon.
Elena opened the box.
Inside were letters.
Hospital records.
A photograph of Sofia.
And a digital recorder.
Elena picked it up.
A label on the back read:
FOR ELENA.
Her hands shook.
She pressed play.
Static.
Then her mother’s voice filled the apartment.
“Elena, if you are hearing this, Sofia Rossi was right.”
Elena stopped breathing.
Lorenzo stared at the recorder.
Isabel continued.
“You must not trust anyone with the Rossi name.”
Lorenzo’s face hardened.
May you like
Then came the next sentence.
“Especially Lorenzo.”
