Chapter 3 - The Man on the Payroll
Marco recovered quickly.
He stepped into the nursery and looked around as though he owned every person inside it.
“What is the maid doing with the child?”
“She saved him,” Lorenzo said.
Marco’s eyes remained on me.
“Or she created the emergency so she could appear useful.”
Lorenzo’s jaw hardened.
“You entered this room thirty seconds ago.”
“You already decided what happened?”
“I decided she does not belong here.”
Marco turned to the guards.
“Remove her.”
No one moved.
Lorenzo looked at his oldest friend.
“I did not give that order.”
Marco gave a polite nod.
“Of course.”
He stepped closer to Leo.
The baby was drinking again.
His swallowing sounded stronger than before.
Marco watched him with an expression I could not understand.
It almost looked like anger.
“Who is the man outside the door?” Lorenzo asked.
Marco looked back at him.
“What man?”
“The one who locked us inside.”
“I saw no one.”
“He called her by name.”
Marco’s gaze returned to me.
“What name?”
I tightened my arms around Leo.
Lorenzo noticed my hesitation.
“Tell him.”
“My name is Clara Hayes.”
Marco smiled.
“The employment records say Claire Hart.”
“I lied.”
Several guards shifted their hands toward their weapons.
Marco’s smile widened.
“At last, something honest.”
Lorenzo did not look away from me.
“Why did you use a false name?”
“Because Mason Reed was looking for me.”
“Who is Mason Reed?”
“My ex-boyfriend.”
My voice trembled, but I forced myself to continue.
“He pushed me down a staircase three weeks ago.”
“I was thirty-eight weeks pregnant.”
“The baby died.”
No one spoke.
Even the guards lowered their eyes.
Lorenzo looked at Leo.
Then he looked at the place where my uniform had opened.
Understanding moved across his face.
“That is why you could feed him.”
I nodded.
Marco’s voice remained cold.
“And you expect us to believe the man who harmed you somehow entered one of the most secure homes in the country?”
“He was outside that door.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco turned toward Lorenzo.
“She entered under a false identity.”
“She violated the nursery.”
“She was found holding your son.”
“She has given you exactly one convenient story.”
“And the nurse died before she could contradict it.”
The accusation struck exactly where he intended it to.
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
The father disappeared.
The mafia boss returned.
“Search her room.”
Two guards left immediately.
“Lorenzo,” I whispered.
He did not respond.
Marco folded his hands behind his back.
“Until we understand what happened, she should be restrained.”
Leo released a quiet cry.
I pulled him closer.
“No one is taking him away from me until the doctor explains why he was being drugged.”
Marco laughed once.
“You think you have authority here?”
“No.”
I looked directly at Lorenzo.
“But I know what a starving baby feels like in my arms.”
“And your son was not refusing food.”
“Someone was making him unable to drink it.”
The physician cleared his throat.
“There is no evidence of that.”
I looked toward the feeding cart.
Several sealed bottles stood inside a silver cooler.
I picked up the bottle nearest the edge.
There was a tiny puncture in the rubber seal.
I held it beneath Lorenzo’s flashlight.
“This is evidence.”
Dr. Vale stepped forward.
“That could have happened during preparation.”
“Then why do all three bottles have the same mark?”
Silence filled the room.
Lorenzo inspected each bottle.
The punctures were identical.
Marco’s expression remained calm.
Too calm.
A guard returned carrying a tablet.
“Sir, we found something in her room.”
He placed the tablet in Lorenzo’s hand.
The screen showed a security photograph.
Mason stood inside the Rossi estate wearing a black guard’s uniform.
The date on the image was two days before I was hired.
Beneath his photograph was a false name.
Michael Trent.
Authorized by Marco DeLuca.
Lorenzo slowly lifted his eyes.
Marco’s hand moved toward the inside of his jacket.
Every guard in the nursery raised a weapon.
Marco stopped moving.
Lorenzo’s voice became almost gentle.
“Take your hand out very slowly.”
Marco obeyed.
He held up an empty palm.
“You are making a mistake.”
Lorenzo aimed his pistol at the man he had trusted for twenty years.
May you like
“No, Marco.”
“I think I have been making the same mistake for twenty years.”
