Chapter 4 - I couldn't process the words.“What do you mean, the baby isn't the only heir?”
The soldier looked at Evelyn.
She nodded.
“You need to hear the rest.”
Before she could speak, another gunshot echoed through the cemetery.
The soldier grabbed my shoulder.
“Move!”
We ran into the trees.
Rain blurred the world around us.
Branches whipped against my face.
My mind was racing.
Another heir?
Another child?
Grace had never told me anything.
We reached an old hunting cabin.
The soldier pushed the door open.
Inside, a small lamp burned.
A woman sat on the floor.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
Grace.
I stopped breathing.
“Grace.”
Her head lifted.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then she whispered:
“Luca?”
I crossed the room.
She threw herself against me.
I held her carefully.
“You're alive.”
“I knew you'd come.”
“I've been looking everywhere.”
“I knew.”
I pulled back.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“I left messages.”
“The prison.”
“Yes.”
My hands shook.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your mother was listening.”
I looked at her stomach.
She was pale.
Exhausted.
But alive.
“Is our son okay?”
Grace's eyes filled with fear.
“I don't know.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“She took the ultrasound records.”
“Who?”
“Elena.”
“Why?”
Grace looked at the floor.
“Because she knows something about our baby.”
“What?”
“She believes your son will destroy the Ferraro family.”
I almost laughed.
“My son hasn't even been born.”
Grace whispered:
“She doesn't care.”
The soldier locked the door.
Evelyn checked Grace's pulse.
Then Grace looked at me.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
She reached beneath her shirt.
A small metal key hung around her neck.
“I found this under your father's prison bed.”
My father.
She placed it in my hand.
“Your father told me to give it to you only if you returned.”
“What does it open?”
Grace shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The soldier suddenly approached.
“Boss.”
I looked up.
“There are vehicles outside.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
My mother.
We prepared to leave through the back door.
Then the cabin lights died.
Someone whispered from outside:
“Luca.”
My mother.
Her voice was calm.
“You have ten seconds to bring me Grace.”
I pulled the curtains aside.
Men surrounded the cabin.
Too many.
Grace grabbed my arm.
“Don't give me to her.”
“I won't.”
My father had said the same thing.
The baby.
I looked at the key.
Then at the cabin floor.
A strange thought struck me.
I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers along the wooden boards.
One panel was loose.
I pulled it up.
A narrow tunnel descended beneath the cabin.
The soldier stared.
“I didn't know that was here.”
Grace whispered:
“Neither did I.”
Outside, my mother called again.
“Luca.”
I looked toward the door.
“If you run, more people die.”
I clenched my jaw.
Then a strange sound came from beneath us.
A baby crying.
Grace froze.
“That can't be…”
I pointed my flashlight into the tunnel.
The crying continued.
Soft.
Weak.
Very close.
Grace covered her mouth.
“Luca…”
We descended.
At the bottom stood an old metal door.
The key fit.
The lock turned.
The door opened.
Inside was a nursery.
A second crib.
A second set of baby clothes.
And on the wall were photographs of Grace.
Taken during her pregnancy.
Hundreds of them.
Then I noticed the last photograph.
It showed Grace sleeping in our bedroom.
Standing beside her was my mother.
Holding a newborn baby.
I stared at the photograph.
Grace whispered behind me:
“That picture was taken two weeks ago.”
I turned.
“How could there be a newborn?”
Grace's face drained of color.
Then a voice came from the darkness behind the crib.
May you like
A woman's voice.
“Because there already was.”
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