Chapter 7 – THE BOY WITH THE POCKET WATCH

The grand foyer was a disaster zone of shattered crystal and broken marble, but the arrival of the small, shivering boy completely erased the violence of the last hour.

Luca froze. His hand dropped from my cheek. The color drained from his face as he stared down at the child standing in the doorway.

“Leo?” Luca breathed.

Without hesitating, Luca sprinted down the grand staircase, ignoring the dangerous shards of glass. He dropped to his knees in front of the little boy, pulling the soaked, freezing child into his arms.

“Leo, where is your mother?” Luca asked urgently, his voice cracking. “Where is Isabella?”

The little boy sobbed, his small fingers gripping Luca’s ruined suit jacket. He held up a broken gold pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, the hands frozen at 10:42.

“She told me to run,” Leo cried, his teeth chattering. “The bad men came into the house. Mommy locked me in the closet and gave me Grandpa’s watch. She told me to run to your house.”

Margaret, who had hurried down the stairs behind me, let out a stifled cry. “Isabella… Oh, God, not Isabella.”

I stood on the landing, completely overwhelmed. Isabella was Luca’s younger sister. I had never met her, but I knew she had been estranged from the family for years, living a quiet life away from the mafia after her husband was killed in a car accident.

Luca stood up, holding his nephew tightly against his chest. His eyes were wild with a terrifying mixture of fear and rage.

“Marco!” Luca roared.

The head of security appeared instantly from the hallway.

“Take five men,” Luca ordered, his voice trembling with a fury I had never heard before. “Go to Isabella’s townhouse. Tear the city apart if you have to. Find my sister.”

“Yes, Boss,” Marco nodded, running out into the storm.

Luca looked down at the freezing child in his arms. Leo was shaking so hard his lips were turning blue.

I didn’t wait for permission. I ran down the stairs, grabbed a thick wool blanket from the hall closet, and rushed over to them.

“Mr. Moretti, give him to me,” I said softly, holding out the blanket. “He’s freezing. He needs to get out of these wet clothes before he gets sick.”

Luca looked at me, his eyes filled with a vulnerability he couldn’t hide. He slowly transferred the trembling boy into my arms.

Leo felt so small, so incredibly fragile. I wrapped the heavy blanket around him, pulling him close to my chest to share my body heat.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered, rubbing his back as he buried his cold face into my neck. “You’re safe now. Nobody is going to hurt you here.”

Leo whimpered, his tiny hands clutching my maid’s apron. “My watch broke.”

“We can fix it,” I promised gently. “I know a trick to fix broken things.”

Luca watched us, his chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing.

“Take him to the master suite,” Luca told Margaret, who was weeping silently. “Run a hot bath. Megan, stay with him. Do not let him out of your sight.”

“I won’t,” I promised, holding the boy tighter.

As Margaret and I carried Leo up the stairs, I looked back over my shoulder. Luca was standing alone in the ruined foyer, pulling his weapon back out of its holster. The protective, gentle uncle was gone. The ruthless head of the Moretti family had returned.

For the next two hours, the mansion was a fortress of tense silence.

Margaret and I bathed Leo in the massive marble tub, wrapping him in Luca’s oversized cashmere sweaters. I sat with him on the edge of the enormous master bed, feeding him warm soup while he stared blankly at the wall.

He refused to let go of the broken pocket watch.

“My mommy said Grandpa gave this to her,” Leo whispered softly, tracing the cracked glass with his little thumb.

“It’s a beautiful watch,” I said gently, sitting beside him. “Do you know what makes it special?”

Leo shook his head.

“Even when the hands stop moving,” I told him, pointing to the frozen dial, “the gears inside are still strong. They just need a little time to rest before they start ticking again.”

Leo looked up at me with massive, tear-filled brown eyes. “Like Mommy?”

My heart shattered. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to make a promise I couldn’t keep.

Before I could answer, the heavy bedroom door creaked open.

Luca stepped inside.

He had changed out of his ruined suit. He was wearing a simple black shirt and dark jeans, but his face looked ten years older. There was blood on his knuckles.

Margaret stood up from the armchair. “Luca?”

Luca looked at his aunt, then at me, and finally at the little boy sitting on the bed.

He walked over slowly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and gently brushed Leo’s damp hair away from his forehead.

“Uncle Luca,” Leo whispered. “Did you find Mommy?”

Luca closed his eyes. A single tear escaped, cutting a path down his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Leo,” Luca choked out, pulling the boy into a crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

Leo didn’t scream. He didn’t cry loudly. He just buried his face in Luca’s chest and went completely limp, dropping the broken pocket watch onto the blankets.

Margaret covered her face, sobbing quietly as she walked out of the room to mourn her niece in private.

I sat there, frozen, watching this powerful, terrifying man break down as he held his newly orphaned nephew.

I quietly reached out and picked up the broken watch. I set it on the nightstand, then moved to stand up, intending to give them privacy.

But as I shifted, Luca reached out with his free hand and grabbed my wrist.

He didn’t say a word. He just looked at me, his dark eyes pleading. He pulled me slightly toward him.

I didn’t resist. I moved closer, wrapping my arms around both Luca and the little boy, holding them together as the storm raged outside.

We sat like that for a long time.

Eventually, Leo exhausted himself with silent crying and fell asleep against Luca’s chest.

Luca gently laid the boy down against the pillows, pulling the heavy duvet over him. He stood up, running a shaking hand through his dark hair.

“The men who took her,” Luca whispered, staring out the rain-streaked window. “It was Leo’s biological father. A degenerate gambler named Victor. Isabella left him five years ago when he got violent. He found out she was coming back into the family trust.”

“Did they catch him?” I asked softly.

“No,” Luca said, his voice turning to ice. “He got away before Marco arrived. But he left a message.”

Luca turned to face me. “He said he’s coming back for his son. And he knows Leo is here.”