Chapter 4

The flashing red and blue lights illuminated the library in chaotic, terrifying strobes. Sarah rushed to the window, pulling back the heavy velvet curtain.

“Police,” she whispered, her breath fogging the cold glass. “And unmarked black SUVs. There are so many of them.”

My mind raced. Vanessa had claimed her dead-man’s switch was set for midnight. Why were the authorities here now? Unless she never intended to wait. Unless the midnight deadline was a distraction to keep Luca trapped while the state moved in to seize Lucy.

“We have to hide her,” Sarah panicked, turning away from the window. She looked at Lucy, who was frozen in terror by the fireplace. Sarah rushed over and dropped to her knees, grasping the little girl’s shoulders. “We have to get you out of here, baby. Is there a back door? A basement?”

Lucy shrank back from Sarah’s touch, her green eyes wide with fear. She didn’t know this woman. She only knew the safety of the mansion and the love of the father who had raised her. “I want my Daddy,” Lucy cried, clinging to me.

“He’s trapped downstairs, sweetheart,” I said, my voice shaking as I gathered the dropped letters from the floor. I shoved Elena’s confession deep into my apron pocket. This was the proof Luca needed. Proof that his late wife was murdered. But if the police breached the house right now, Vanessa would trigger the email, the adoption would be voided, and Lucy would be taken into state custody before Luca could even speak.

I had to get to Luca.

“Sarah,” I said, gripping her arm tightly. “Listen to me. There is a hidden dumbwaiter behind the bookshelves in the east wing. It leads down to the old wine cellar. Take Lucy and hide there. Do not come out until I come for you.”

Sarah nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face. “Okay. Okay, yes.” She reached for Lucy’s hand. “Come with me, sweetheart. I promise I won’t let them take you.”

I opened the library door just a crack. Marco was gone from the hallway, likely summoned to the front foyer to deal with the incoming raid. The corridor was empty, bathed in the eerie glow of the police lights reflecting off the marble.

I guided Sarah and Lucy to the hidden panel behind the mahogany bookshelves. With a heavy clunk, the wooden door slid open, revealing the dark, narrow shaft of the dumbwaiter.

“Get in,” I whispered.

Lucy hesitated, looking up at me with tears in her eyes. “Emma, you’re coming back, right? You promise?”

I kissed her forehead, my heart breaking. “I promise, my brave girl. Squeeze your elephant tight.”

Once the panel clicked shut, concealing them in the walls, I turned and sprinted toward the main foyer.

The scene at the front entrance was utter pandemonium. The massive double doors were thrown wide open, letting the freezing rain blow into the grand entryway. A dozen armed police officers stood in the vestibule, their hands resting cautiously on their weapons, facing down Luca’s security team.

In the center of the standoff stood Luca, his posture radiating lethal authority, blocking the entrance to the main house.

And standing right behind the police officers was a woman holding a thick leather binder.

My blood ran cold.

She wore a sharp, grey pantsuit and had her greying hair pulled back into a severe, tight bun. I would recognize that posture anywhere. The cold, calculating eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses.

It was Mrs. Gable.

She was a senior agent for Child Protective Services now, but fifteen years ago, she had been my foster mother. She was the woman who locked me in a basement for two days because I spilled milk on her rug. She was the woman who took the state stipend money meant for our winter coats and spent it at the casino.

I pressed my back against the wall of the hallway, out of sight, listening to the nightmare unfold.

“Mr. Moretti,” Mrs. Gable said, her voice dripping with bureaucratic arrogance. “I am here with an emergency court order signed by a family court judge. We received an anonymous tip with compelling evidence that the child residing in this home, Lucy Moretti, was procured through an illegal, black-market transaction. The state is taking emergency custody of the child.”

Luca didn’t budge. “You have been fed a lie by a disgruntled former employee. My daughter’s adoption is entirely legal. I have the paperwork in my vault.”

“The paperwork is forged, Mr. Moretti,” Mrs. Gable countered, tapping her binder. “Our informant provided the original hospital records. The child belongs to a woman named Sarah, who reported her infant stolen seven years ago. The adoption is void. Bring the girl out, or these officers will arrest you for kidnapping and search the premises themselves.”

Vanessa stepped out from the shadows of the staircase, playing the part of the horrified fiancé perfectly. “Oh, Luca! Is this true? Did you buy a stolen baby?” She covered her mouth in mock horror. She was enjoying this. She had orchestrated the whole thing.

Luca shot Vanessa a look of pure, unadulterated hatred. He knew she had called them.

“I need to speak to my lawyers,” Luca stalled, his voice tight.

“You can call them from the station,” Mrs. Gable snapped. “Officers, find the child.”

I couldn’t stay hidden anymore. I knew what Mrs. Gable did to children in her care. I couldn’t let Lucy disappear into her system. I stepped out from the hallway, clutching my apron pocket.

“The child isn’t here!” I yelled.

Everyone turned to look at me. Mrs. Gable’s cold eyes narrowed behind her glasses. She studied my face in the dim light, and a cruel, slow smile spread across her lips.

“Well, well,” Mrs. Gable sneered, stepping past the police officers. “Little Emma Collins. Still wearing a uniform. Still cleaning up other people’s messes. I always knew you’d amount to nothing.”

I felt my hands shaking, the childhood terror threatening to suffocate me. But I thought of Lucy crying in the dark. I forced my chin up.

“You’re not taking her, Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice echoing in the massive foyer. “Because the anonymous informant who called you is a murderer.”

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