Chapter 4 – THE TICKET TO MONTREAL

I stared at the train ticket, the letters of my own name blurring in front of my eyes.

Hannah Collins. One Way. Montreal.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, stepping back from the bed. “I didn’t buy this. I haven’t been on a train in years.”

Teresa looked up at me, her tear-streaked face suddenly very sharp. “Someone is trying to make it look like you took her.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

Vanessa’s threat in the dining room. Pack your bags tonight.

She wasn’t just firing me. She was setting me up. When the baby was discovered missing, they would find my empty room. They would find the train ticket purchased in my name. I would be the disgruntled maid who kidnapped the billionaire’s niece.

“We have to call the police,” I said, reaching for the bedside phone.

Teresa grabbed my hand. “No. The police work for Vincent in this city. If you call them, Vincent gets the baby.”

“Then I’ll go to Luca.”

“Luca is blinded by grief,” Teresa warned, pulling the baby closer to her chest. “And Vanessa has his ear. You need proof, Hannah. Real proof.”

I looked at the silver rosary in my pocket. “I have this. It was in the closet with the baby.”

Teresa shook her head slowly. “A rosary isn’t enough. Vanessa will say she dropped it earlier. You need to find out why Vanessa wants this baby gone so badly that she would stage a kidnapping.”

I thought about the text message I’d seen Vanessa typing by the fireplace.

“Her phone,” I murmured.

“What?”

“Vanessa was texting someone right after the police found the empty car seat. If she’s working with Marcus, the proof is on her phone.”

Teresa looked down at the sleeping child. “You have to get it, Hannah. Before she realizes the baby is gone from the closet.”

I left Teresa locking her bedroom door from the inside and crept down the hallway.

The master suite was at the end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar.

I peeked inside. Luca was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Vanessa was in the adjoining bathroom, the shower running.

Her phone was sitting on the nightstand, plugged into the charger.

I took a deep breath, slipped off my shoes, and stepped onto the thick carpet. I moved silently across the room, my eyes fixed on the glowing screen.

Luca didn’t move. He was completely broken.

I reached the nightstand and slipped the phone off the charger.

I turned back toward the door.

Suddenly, a heavy hand closed around my wrist.

I gasped.

Luca was looking up at me, his eyes bloodshot and hollow.

“What are you doing, Hannah?” he asked quietly.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak.

Before I could form a lie, the shower turned off.

“Darling?” Vanessa called from the bathroom. “Who are you talking to?”

Luca stared at me. Then, he looked down at the phone in my hand.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t call for security.

Instead, he reached out, unlocked Vanessa’s phone with his own thumbprint, and handed it back to me.

“Read it,” he whispered.

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