Chapter 11 - A Mother's Name.
The emergency lights painted the basement in dim red bands.
Lorenzo handed Hunter a flashlight and pointed toward the safer stairwell.
“Take Leo upstairs with Gabriel.”
Hunter heard the running footsteps in the tunnel again.
“What about you?”
“I am going after whoever is down there.”
“That is exactly the kind of sentence people say before making a terrible decision.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
Even now, with alarms echoing through the estate, something almost human touched his face.
“Go.”
Hunter obeyed because Leo began to cry.
She followed Gabriel through the service stairs and returned to the nursery.
Twenty minutes later, the mansion lights came back on.
Lorenzo returned with blood on one knuckle and no prisoner.
“The tunnel opens near the lower road,” he said.
“Whoever ran knew the layout.”
Hunter looked toward Leo.
“So did Nicholas Vale.”
“So did Marco.”
“So does half the maintenance staff.”
Lorenzo sat in the chair opposite her.
The exhaustion on his face looked older than him.
A car arrived at the front entrance shortly after dawn.
The woman who entered the nursery did not wait to be announced.
She was in her early sixties, elegant, silver-haired, and dressed in a cream coat over a dark blue dress.
Lorenzo stood immediately.
“Mother.”
Isabella Rossi ignored him.
She walked straight to Leo.
Her expression softened for one heartbeat.
Then her eyes moved to Hunter holding him.
“So this is the woman everyone is talking about.”
Hunter disliked being discussed like furniture.
“I’m Hunter Higgins.”
“I know.”
Isabella looked at the bottle in her hand.
“You are feeding my grandson.”
“Yes.”
“Because he refuses everyone else.”
“So far.”
Isabella turned toward Lorenzo.
“And you have allowed a stranger to become indispensable in less than a week.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“She kept him alive.”
“She is also at the center of every new problem in this house.”
Hunter felt the accusation like a cold hand across her neck.
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“That is enough.”
Isabella did not flinch.
“I buried your wife.”
“I will not bury your son because grief made you careless.”
Hunter rose slowly with Leo.
“I can leave the room.”
Isabella looked at her.
“That would be wise.”
Lorenzo’s voice cut through the air.
“She stays.”
Leo stirred.
Hunter shifted him gently.
Isabella watched the movement.
Her expression changed for the first time.
Not suspicion.
Recognition.
“You hold him like Sophia did.”
The room went quiet.
Hunter looked down.
“I never met her.”
“I know.”
Isabella moved closer.
She noticed the small photograph on the side table.
The one Sophia had hidden beneath the rocking chair.
Isabella picked it up.
Her fingers trembled when she read the words on the back.
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, JULIA.
“That is not Sophia’s handwriting,” she whispered.
Lorenzo stared at her.
“What?”
Isabella turned the photograph over.
“My daughter-in-law wrote to me every week for six years.”
“She did not write this.”
Hunter felt cold.
“Then who did?”
Isabella looked toward the nursery doorway.
“I know exactly whose handwriting that is.”
Lorenzo’s voice hardened.
“Whose?”
May you like
Isabella met her son’s eyes.
“Marco’s.”
