The study door clicked shut behind the last of Lorenzo’s associates.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Elena remained on the floor, her back pressed against the edge of the heavy desk, while Mia sat beside her clutching the Moretti family ring in both hands.
Lorenzo stared at the child.
Then at Elena.
Three years.
Three years of unanswered questions suddenly had a face.
“Get up,” he said quietly.
Elena’s heart hammered.
“Please…”
“I said get up.”
There was no anger in his voice.
That frightened her more.
She slowly rose, pulling Mia against her side.
Lorenzo walked toward the enormous windows overlooking the dark courtyard. His reflection stared back at him from the glass.
He looked older than he had an hour ago.
Three years ago, he had been arrested.
The night Elena disappeared, federal agents had surrounded one of his warehouses. By sunrise, Lorenzo Moretti was in custody, accused of crimes that could have buried him for decades.
He remembered Elena standing outside the courthouse.
He remembered searching the crowd for her.
He remembered seeing her once.
Then never again.
At least, that was what he had believed.
“You told me you were a widow,” Lorenzo said.
Elena lowered her eyes.
“I had to protect her.”
“From me?”
“No.”
“Then from whom?”
Elena said nothing.
Lorenzo turned around.
“Who is Mia’s father?”
The question hung between them.
Elena’s lips trembled.
“You already know.”
Lorenzo looked toward the little girl.
Mia was examining the wolf engraved on the ring.
She smiled.
“Pretty dog.”
Something inside Lorenzo cracked.
He had spent his entire adult life surrounded by people who wanted something from him.
Money.
Power.
Protection.
Fear.
But this child wanted nothing.
She didn’t even know who he was.
And yet she had called him Daddy.
Lorenzo took a slow breath.
“Three years ago,” he said, “you disappeared without leaving a message. No address. No phone number. Nothing.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
Elena finally looked at him.
“No, Lorenzo. I didn’t.”
Hearing his name from her lips changed the room.
For six months, she had called him Mr. Moretti.
Always distant.
Always careful.
Now the old familiarity had returned for one brief second.
Lorenzo noticed.
“So you remember me.”
Elena swallowed.
“I never forgot you.”
His expression hardened.
“Then why did you lie?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Because when you were arrested, people came looking for me.”
Lorenzo went completely still.
“Who?”
Elena shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“They never gave me names. They just told me that if I stayed, Mia would become leverage against you.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“Who told you that?”
“I was twenty-three years old, pregnant, terrified, and alone. Your enemies knew things about me that I didn’t even understand. They knew where I worked. They knew where my mother lived. They knew when I went to the doctor.”
She paused.
“I believed them.”
Lorenzo’s voice dropped.
“And you believed leaving me was the only way to keep her alive.”
Elena nodded.
“Yes.”
Silence returned.
Mia tugged gently on Lorenzo’s sleeve.
He looked down.
She held out the ring.
“Daddy, look.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Lorenzo froze.
The word struck him harder this time.
Not because it was shocking.
Because it sounded natural.
As though Mia had been waiting her entire life to say it.
Lorenzo crouched slowly in front of her.
“Why do you call me Daddy?”
Mia shrugged.
“Because Mommy has your picture.”
Elena’s face drained of color.
Lorenzo looked up sharply.
“You have a picture of me?”
Elena didn’t answer.
Mia continued innocently.
“Mommy keeps it in the blue box.”
Lorenzo stood.
“Where is the box?”
Elena stepped backward.
“Lorenzo…”
“Where?”
“I can’t.”
“You’ve spent three years hiding my daughter from me.”
His voice remained controlled, but his eyes had changed.
“You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot know anymore.”
Elena’s tears finally fell.
“I was trying to keep her alive.”
“And now?”
She looked toward Mia.
“Now I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Lorenzo stared at the child for a long moment.
Then he removed his expensive jacket and placed it around Mia’s shoulders.
She smiled beneath the oversized fabric.
“You’re cold,” he said.
Mia shook her head.
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
For the first time that night, something almost resembling a smile appeared on Lorenzo’s face.
It disappeared just as quickly.
He turned toward the door.
“Nolan.”
The door opened almost immediately.
Lorenzo’s head of security stepped inside.
“Yes, boss.”
“Cancel everything tonight.”
Nolan hesitated.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Lorenzo looked at Elena.
“Find out who knew about Elena three years ago.”
Elena’s breathing stopped.
“Nobody is to approach her,” Lorenzo continued. “Nobody is to question her. And nobody touches the child.”
Nolan nodded.
“And if someone already knows she’s here?”
Lorenzo’s eyes became cold.
“Then they’ll make the mistake of coming to my house.”
Nolan understood immediately.
He left.
Elena watched the door close.
“You can’t keep us here.”
Lorenzo turned toward her.
“No.”
She blinked.
“I won’t keep you.”
For a moment, hope appeared in her eyes.
Then Lorenzo continued.
“But I won’t let you walk back into danger either.”
He glanced at Mia.
“You spent three years running.”
His voice softened.
“You don’t have to run tonight.”
Elena stared at him.
She wanted to believe him.
But there was something else she hadn’t told him.
Something far more dangerous than Mia’s existence.
Three years ago, before Elena disappeared, someone had slipped a photograph beneath her apartment door.
It showed Lorenzo behind bars.
And beside him was another photograph.
A photograph of Elena holding newborn Mia.
On the back were six words she had never forgotten:
HE KNOWS WHERE YOUR DAUGHTER IS.
Elena had never discovered who sent it.
And she had never told Lorenzo.
Until now.
She slowly reached into the pocket of her uniform.
Her fingers closed around the old photograph she had carried for three years.
“Lorenzo…”
He turned.
“There is something you need to see.”
She handed him the photograph.
He looked at it.
The color vanished from his face.
Because beneath the picture of himself in federal custody was a handwritten symbol.
The Moretti wolf.
But it wasn’t his family’s symbol.
It had been crossed out with a single black line.
Lorenzo stared at it for several seconds.
Then he whispered:
“They found you.”
Elena’s eyes widened.
“Who?”
Lorenzo looked toward the locked study door.
“The people who put me in prison.”
And somewhere beyond the mansion walls, a black vehicle had just stopped beneath the trees.
Inside it, a man lowered a pair of binoculars.
His phone began to ring.
He answered.
“She’s here.”
A pause.
Then the voice on the other end gave a single instruction.