CHAPTER 7 — THE KIDNAPPERS
CHAPTER 7 — THE KIDNAPPERS
"The twins are gone!"
The words echoed through the smoke like a death sentence.
Dante was already running before anyone could stop him.
"Move!" he shouted.
Marco and the guards charged after him, weapons drawn.
I grabbed the wooden box containing Elena's journal, the silver key, and the unopened envelope before following them into the hallway.
Smoke filled the east wing.
The explosion had blown out every window, covering the marble floor with broken glass.
Emergency alarms screamed throughout the mansion.
Someone had planned this.
The bomb hadn't been meant to kill us.
It had been meant to distract us.
"The nursery!" Dante yelled.
We raced through the corridors.
Servants huddled against the walls in panic while security teams rushed in every direction, each reporting different pieces of chaos over their radios.
"West entrance secure!"
"Fire contained!"
"Negative visual on the children!"
The confusion was exactly what the kidnappers had wanted.
When we reached the nursery, the door hung crooked on its hinges.
One guard lay unconscious in the hallway.
Another was bleeding from a cut across his forehead.
The room itself was a disaster.
Furniture had been overturned.
The windows were shattered.
Curtains fluttered wildly in the night wind.
Dante stepped inside.
"No..."
One tiny pink shoe lay in the middle of the floor.
He picked it up with shaking hands.
It belonged to Isabella.
Marco knelt beside the unconscious guard.
"What happened?"
The man groaned.
"They... they came through the ceiling."
Everyone looked up.
A large opening had been cut into the nursery above the closet.
A heavy rope still dangled from the attic.
"They used the explosion to cover the noise," Marco muttered.
"They never intended to escape through the halls."
Dante's voice became frighteningly calm.
"Find them."
Every guard in the room straightened.
"I don't care if you have to search every inch of Chicago."
"I want my daughters back."
"No excuses."
"No delays."
"Go!"
Within seconds, the mansion emptied as armed vehicles roared out of the gates.
Helicopters lifted into the stormy sky.
Roadblocks were ordered.
Every Moretti contact across the city was activated.
But I couldn't stop staring at the nursery floor.
Something didn't feel right.
Kidnappers working that quickly wouldn't leave behind loose evidence.
Yet something small glittered beneath the overturned rocking chair.
I walked over and picked it up.
A silver music note charm.
Tiny.
Delicate.
Its edges were worn smooth with age.
Dante immediately recognized it.
"That belonged to Elena."
"You’re sure?"
"I gave it to her on our first anniversary."
He took it from my hand.
"She wore it on a bracelet every day."
Marco frowned.
"Then why would it be here?"
I looked around the room.
"Maybe it wasn't left tonight."
Dante looked at me.
"What do you mean?"
"What if your wife hid it?"
He stared at the charm.
His breathing slowed.
Then his eyes widened.
"The music room."
Without another word, he turned and sprinted back toward the east wing.
We followed him.
The hidden compartment still stood open.
The wooden box remained where I had dropped it.
Dante picked up Elena's journal.
Inside the cover, something slid onto the floor.
A folded sheet of paper.
Not the envelope with my name.
A map.
Hand-drawn.
Of the mansion.
Several rooms were circled in red.
The nursery.
The music room.
The wine cellar.
And one place labeled only with a single word.
Sanctuary.
Marco unfolded the map completely.
"There wasn't a room called Sanctuary on the original blueprints."
"There is now," Dante whispered.
He pointed toward the back wall of the music room.
Behind the grand piano.
"There."
The guards shoved the piano aside.
Hidden beneath it was a narrow wooden door, almost invisible against the wall paneling.
Marco pulled it open.
A steep staircase disappeared into darkness below.
Cool air drifted upward.
"This wasn't on any renovation plans," he said.
Dante grabbed a flashlight.
"I'm going first."
"No," Marco argued.
"It could be another trap."
"It could also be where my daughters are."
Without waiting for permission, Dante descended the stairs.
The rest of us followed.
At the bottom, the staircase opened into a beautifully preserved underground room.
It wasn't a bunker.
It was a nursery.
Tiny beds.
Shelves filled with children's books.
Blankets.
Candles.
A rocking chair.
Everything had been carefully maintained, as though someone expected children to return one day.
On the far wall hung a framed photograph.
It showed Elena smiling.
Beside her stood my grandmother.
Both women held newborn babies.
The twins.
Below the picture, written in elegant handwriting, were six chilling words:
If you're reading this, I failed.
Dante's hands trembled as he removed the frame.
Behind it was a hidden safe.
The silver key from the wooden box fit perfectly.
The lock clicked open.
Inside was a small digital recorder.
Dante pressed Play.
Static filled the room.
Then Elena's voice spoke for the first time in three years.
"Dante... if they've found this, it's already too late."
The room fell silent.
No one breathed.
Then her next sentence changed everything.
May you like
"The enemy isn't outside our family..."
"It's already living inside this house."
