Chapter 5 – THE MUSIC BOX IN THE ALLEY

The freezing wind bit at my face, but I couldn’t feel it. All I could feel was the icy circle of Michael’s gun pressed between my eyes.

Lily was crying hysterically against my chest. I wrapped my arms tighter around her, trying to shield her small body with my own.

“Let her go, Michael,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. “She’s just a baby.”

Michael looked terrible. His expensive suit was covered in mud from the lake, his face pale and sweating despite the cold. He looked over my shoulder toward the house, where the sound of gunfire had suddenly stopped.

“I didn’t want this,” Michael whispered, his breathing ragged. “I never wanted any of this.”

Answer one: Michael was trapped in his own blackmail scheme.

Open two: Why was he stopping me instead of running away?

“Then let us walk away,” I begged.

Michael shook his head slowly. “If Vanessa gets her, she’ll raise her as a monster. If Donato takes her, she becomes a hostage. I promised Sofia I would keep her safe.”

Reversal: Michael hadn’t sold Lily to Donato for money. He had given her to Donato to get her out of Chicago, away from Vanessa.

“Then help me,” I said.

Michael lowered the gun. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, ornate wooden object. He shoved it into my apron pocket.

“Take this,” he said urgently. “It’s a music box. It belongs to Sofia. Inside the lining is a locker key for Union Station. There’s enough cash and fake passports for you, your mother, and Lily to disappear.”

I stared at him, stunned. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Because I’m not leaving this alley,” he said softly.

The back door of my house swung open.

Vanessa stepped out into the alley, her red dress torn, her face smeared with soot. She raised her silver revolver, aiming it directly at my back.

“Bring the child here, Michael,” Vanessa commanded.

Michael didn’t move. He stood between me and Vanessa.

“Run, Hannah,” Michael whispered.

“Michael, don’t be a fool,” Vanessa barked. “We can still finish this. Luca is trapped inside. We just need the girl.”

Michael raised his weapon, aiming it at his brother’s fiancée.

“Sofia was right,” Michael said loudly. “You are a poison in this family, Vanessa.”

“Run!” Michael screamed at me.

I turned and sprinted down the alley, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes.

Behind me, two gunshots rang out simultaneously in the dark.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I ran until my lungs burned, clutching Lily so tightly she finally stopped crying and buried her face in my neck.

I burst onto the main street, the neon lights of a closed diner illuminating the empty sidewalk. I needed to get to Union Station. I needed to open that locker.

But as I reached the corner, a pair of headlights flashed, blinding me.

A black sedan slammed on its brakes, blocking the crosswalk. The doors flew open.

I backed up against the brick wall, ready to fight, ready to scream.

A woman stepped out of the driver’s side. She was wearing a cheap maid’s uniform, her hair pulled back into a messy bun.

She looked at me, then looked down at the little girl in my arms.

The woman fell to her knees on the dirty concrete, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Lily,” the woman wept, reaching out her trembling hands. “Oh, my God. Lily.”

I froze. I recognized the woman.

It was the new kitchen maid who had been hired at the mansion three weeks ago. The one who always kept her head down. The one who had left the dinner shift early tonight.

Answer one: The kitchen maid was Sofia in disguise.

Open two: If Sofia was here, who had called the mansion during dinner?

“Sofia?” I breathed.

She looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears. “Give me my baby, Hannah. Please.”

I slowly stepped forward and lowered Lily into her mother’s arms. Sofia buried her face in her daughter’s hair, weeping with a sound so pure and desperate it broke my heart.

“Mama,” Lily whispered, touching Sofia’s wet cheek.

“I’m here, baby. Mama’s here,” Sofia sobbed.

I looked at the car. “We have to go. Vanessa is right behind us. Michael gave me a locker key at Union Station—”

“We’re not going to Union Station,” a voice said from the shadows of the backseat.

The back door of the sedan pushed open.

An old woman stepped out onto the street, clutching a thick wool shawl around her shoulders.

It was Teresa Moretti.

“Mrs. Moretti?” I gasped. “How did you get here?”

Teresa walked over to Sofia and wrapped her arms around her estranged daughter and her granddaughter. The three generations of Moretti women stood crying in the glow of the streetlights.

“I made the phone call during dinner, Hannah,” Teresa said, looking at me with fierce, blazing eyes. “It was a recording Sofia made weeks ago. I played it through a Bluetooth speaker. I needed Luca to stop the engagement toast. I needed a distraction so Sofia could escape the kitchen and get the car.”

Reversal: The old woman hadn’t been a helpless victim tonight. She had been the mastermind.

“Get in, Hannah,” Teresa said. “We’re finishing this tonight.”

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