Chapter 8 – [THE EXILE AND THE EMPTY CRIB]
“Don’t open it,” Teresa whispered, her fingernails digging painfully into my forearm.
The master bedroom was swallowed in absolute darkness. The only light came from the sliver of moonlight bleeding through the crack in the heavy blackout curtains.
“Open the door!” Marco shouted again, rattling the handle. “If you force us to cut through the hinges, it’s going to traumatize the kid. Don’t be stupid, Hannah.”
My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Luca had been detained by the police? How?
Vanessa must have called in a tip to have him pulled over or arrested on trumped-up charges just to get him off the property. She was isolating us. Systematically tearing down every defense Luca had built.
“I’m not opening this door until I hear Mr. Moretti’s voice!” I yelled back, trying to keep the violent tremor out of my tone.
A low, cruel laugh drifted through the steel door.
It wasn’t Marco.
It was Vanessa.
“Hannah, darling,” her muffled voice chimed in. “Luca is currently sitting in a holding cell answering questions about an anonymous weapons cache found in the trunk of his secondary vehicle. He won’t be home for hours. The sun comes up in four hours. The CPS workers arrive in five. Hand over my new daughter.”
Sophie whimpered on the bed, sitting up in the dark. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, terrified by the loud voices.
“Grandma?” she cried softly.
Teresa rushed to the bed and pulled the little girl to her chest.
“I’ll give you thirty seconds to unlock the deadbolt,” Vanessa called out.
“And if I don’t?” I shouted.
“Then I’ll make a phone call to the St. Jude Recovery Center. I believe your mother, Margaret Collins, is in room 402, recovering from her hip surgery. It would be a shame if her oxygen machine experienced a sudden… malfunction.”
My blood turned to ice water.
She knew.
Vanessa knew who I was, where my mother was, and exactly how to break me.
I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth.
“Hannah?” Teresa whispered, seeing the sheer terror in my eyes. “What did she say?”
I couldn’t breathe. My mother was completely helpless, strapped to a bed thirty miles away. Vanessa had the money and the men to reach her in minutes.
“Ten seconds,” Marco warned from the hall.
I looked at Sophie. The little girl was trembling, clutching her grandmother’s nightgown.
If I opened the door, Vanessa would take Sophie. She would drug Teresa or lock her away.
If I didn’t open the door, my mother would die.
Tears spilled hotly down my cheeks.
I walked over to the bed and knelt in front of Sophie. I reached behind my neck and unclasped the cheap, silver locket I had worn every day since I was a teenager. Inside was a picture of my mother.
I pressed it into Sophie’s small hand.
“Sophie,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I have to go away for a little while. But I promise you, on my life, your Daddy is coming back for you. Do not drink anything Vanessa gives you. Do not eat anything she gives you. Do you understand?”
Sophie nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face.
I stood up and looked at Teresa. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have to protect your mother, Hannah,” the old woman said, tears in her own eyes. “Go. We will survive this night.”
I walked to the heavy steel door.
My hands shook as I gripped the deadbolt.
Click.
I pulled the handle down and dragged the heavy door open.
Four massive security guards stood in the hallway with flashlights. Marco stood at the front.
Behind him, Vanessa wore a triumphant, venomous smirk.
“Smart girl,” she purred.
Before I could speak, two guards grabbed my arms, dragging me roughly out of the room.
Vanessa stepped past me, walking straight into the safe room. “Hello, Teresa. Hello, my sweet Sophie. Let’s get you dressed for a wedding, shall we?”
“Don’t you touch her!” I screamed, struggling against the guards.
“Take the maid to the back gate,” Marco ordered coldly. “Throw her out. If she sets foot on the property again, shoot her.”
The guards dragged me down the grand staircase, through the dark kitchen, and out the heavy back doors into the freezing night air. They hauled me across the manicured lawn, the cold dew soaking through my thin uniform shoes.
When we reached the towering iron gates at the back of the estate, they shoved me hard.
I hit the asphalt driveway, scraping my hands and knees.
The heavy gates slammed shut behind me with a sickening clang.
“Keep walking,” one of the guards sneered through the iron bars.
I pushed myself up, shivering violently in the cold wind. I had no coat, no purse, and no car.
But I didn’t care about the cold.
I started running.
I ran down the dark, tree-lined road, my chest burning as I pulled my cell phone from my apron pocket.
I dialed the St. Jude Recovery Center.
“Please pick up, please pick up,” I prayed aloud.
“St. Jude reception, how can I help you?” a tired nurse answered.
“I need to check on Margaret Collins! Room 402! Please, check on her right now!” I pleaded.
“Ma’am, visiting hours are over—”
“Someone is trying to hurt her! Please!”
There was a long pause. “Hold on.”
I paced the side of the road, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Two agonizing minutes passed.
“Ma’am?” the nurse finally returned to the line.
“Is she okay?” I sobbed.
“She’s fine, sleeping soundly. But I’m looking at her door right now, and there are two very large men in dark suits standing outside her room.”
My heart stopped. Vanessa’s men were already there.
“They told me they were hired private security,” the nurse continued, her voice trembling slightly. “They said they work for a Mr. Luca Moretti. They said nobody goes in or out of this room without his permission.”
I froze.
Luca’s men?
Suddenly, blinding headlights washed over me.
A sleek, black SUV screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road, inches from where I stood.
The back door threw open.
Sitting in the leather backseat, his knuckles still bloodied, his suit jacket wrinkled, was Luca.
He hadn’t been arrested.
He looked at me, his eyes burning with a terrifying, calculated fury.
“Get in,” Luca commanded. “We have a wedding to crash.”
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