Chapter 8 — The Enemy Who Saved the Baby
Chapter 8 — The Enemy Who Saved the Baby
The first thing Lorenzo did after the call ended was lock every door in the safe house.
The second was to wake Emma.
The third was to realize he had no idea who he could trust.
He stood in the upstairs hallway while rain tapped against the windows.
Behind one door, Sophia was helping Emma put on a sweater.
Behind another, Adrian was checking the weapons.
Downstairs, Matteo was calling every remaining loyal soldier Lorenzo had.
But Lorenzo heard none of it.
One sentence kept repeating inside his head.
Emma has two fathers.
It was impossible.
It had to be.
He had seen the birth records.
He had held Isabella's letter.
He had seen the photograph.
He had buried an empty coffin.
He had spent eight months believing his daughter was dead.
Yet every truth he discovered seemed to open another door into something darker.
And now Isabella was telling him the man he had buried twenty-four years ago might not have been his father.
Lorenzo pressed his fingers against his temples.
He needed facts.
Not ghosts.
Not rumors.
Not another secret.
Facts.
The door behind him opened.
Adrian stepped into the hallway.
“We need to leave.”
Lorenzo turned.
“Why?”
“Because the safe house has been compromised.”
“By Marco?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Adrian looked toward the window.
“The woman in the red coat.”
Lorenzo's hand moved toward his gun.
“You said she was protecting someone.”
“She is.”
“Who?”
Adrian hesitated.
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“Answer me.”
Adrian looked him directly in the eyes.
“Your daughter.”
Lorenzo's expression changed.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
“Then make it make sense.”
Adrian sighed.
“The woman in the red coat isn't your enemy.”
“Then why did she send me that message?”
“To make you look in the right direction.”
“What direction?”
“Away from Marco.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“And toward whom?”
Adrian's answer was quiet.
“Me.”
A gunshot shattered the downstairs window.
Lorenzo moved instantly.
“DOWN!”
Sophia dropped to the floor.
Emma screamed.
Matteo fired toward the broken window.
Another bullet struck the wall.
Adrian grabbed Lorenzo by the shoulder.
“Back entrance.”
They moved.
Lorenzo reached Emma first.
He lifted her into his arms.
“It's okay.”
She clung to his neck.
“Daddy.”
The word nearly destroyed him.
“I'm here.”
Another shot.
Then silence.
Lorenzo looked at Adrian.
“Who?”
Adrian crouched near the shattered window.
He examined the glass.
“Sniper.”
“Marco?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Marco doesn't miss twice.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
“What?”
Adrian pointed toward the street.
A black sedan was parked beneath a broken streetlamp.
A red coat was visible beside it.
The woman was standing completely still.
Lorenzo raised his gun.
“That's her.”
Adrian grabbed his arm.
“Don't.”
“She fired at us.”
“No.”
The woman lifted both hands.
She wasn't holding a weapon.
Then she pointed toward the road behind Lorenzo.
A second black SUV appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“They're coming.”
The woman in the red coat shouted across the street.
“Take the child and go!”
Lorenzo didn't move.
“Who are you?”
She shouted again.
“Lorenzo, you have thirty seconds!”
“How do you know my name?”
“Because Isabella told me everything!”
The first SUV stopped.
Doors opened.
Men emerged.
Armed.
Lorenzo tightened his grip on Emma.
The woman turned toward the attackers.
Then she pulled a gun from beneath her coat.
And opened fire.
The street exploded into chaos.
Muzzle flashes illuminated the rain.
The attackers scattered.
The woman in the red coat moved with terrifying precision.
One shot.
Two.
Three.
Three men fell.
She changed magazines without looking down.
Lorenzo stared.
She wasn't fighting like a bodyguard.
She was fighting like someone who had spent years preparing for this exact moment.
“Move!” she shouted.
Adrian pulled open the rear door of the safe house.
“Now!”
Lorenzo carried Emma outside.
Sophia followed.
Matteo covered them.
The woman in the red coat continued firing.
Then she looked directly at Lorenzo.
“Take your daughter!”
Lorenzo ran.
They reached the second vehicle.
Everyone climbed inside.
Adrian slammed the door.
The driver accelerated.
Lorenzo looked through the rear window.
The woman was still standing in the street.
Surrounded by bodies.
Rain pouring over her red coat.
She lowered her gun.
Then smiled.
Not at Lorenzo.
At Emma.
The little girl lifted her hand.
The woman raised hers in return.
Then the car disappeared around the corner.
“Who was that?”
Lorenzo's voice was cold.
Adrian sat opposite him.
“Her name is Elena Varga.”
“Who is she?”
“An enemy.”
“You just said she wasn't.”
“She isn't anymore.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“Why did she save Emma?”
Adrian looked toward the child.
“Because Isabella asked her to.”
“When?”
“Before the crash.”
“Why would Isabella trust an enemy?”
“Because Elena was the only person your father feared.”
Lorenzo stared.
“My father feared a woman?”
“He feared what she knew.”
“What did she know?”
Adrian looked out the window.
“The truth about the baby.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“Which truth?”
Adrian didn't answer.
“Adrian.”
“The baby wasn't supposed to survive.”
Lorenzo looked at Emma.
“She survived.”
“Because Elena took her.”
“When?”
“The night of the crash.”
Eight months earlier.
Elena Varga stood in the rain beside the burning wreck.
She had been told there would be no survivors.
She expected to find a body.
Instead, she found Isabella.
Alive.
Bleeding.
Holding a newborn.
Elena raised her weapon.
“You.”
Isabella looked at her.
“Please.”
Elena hesitated.
“Where is the other car?”
“Gone.”
“Where is Lorenzo?”
“I don't know.”
“You lied to him.”
“Yes.”
“You betrayed him.”
“Yes.”
“You know what he will do when he finds out.”
Isabella looked down at the baby.
“I won't be alive when he finds out.”
Elena's expression hardened.
“Give me the child.”
“No.”
“Isabella.”
“I don't trust anyone.”
“You called me.”
“Because I know what your father did.”
Elena froze.
“You don't know anything about my father.”
“I know he ordered the deaths.”
“Of whom?”
“Your mother.”
Elena's face changed.
“Don't.”
“He killed her because she found the records.”
“Stop.”
“He blamed my family.”
Elena stepped closer.
“Give me the baby.”
Isabella shook her head.
“Promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“That you'll keep her alive.”
Elena stared at the child.
Then at Isabella.
“I promise.”
Isabella handed over the baby.
Elena took her.
The infant began crying.
Isabella kissed her forehead.
“Her name is Emma.”
Elena nodded.
“And her other name?”
Isabella whispered:
“Lucia.”
Elena looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because she carries my mother's name.”
“And DeLuca?”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“Not yet.”
The memory faded.
Lorenzo stared at Adrian.
“So Elena saved her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she bring Emma to me?”
“Because Isabella told her not to.”
“Why?”
“Because you were being watched.”
“By Marco?”
“By someone above him.”
Lorenzo's eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Adrian looked at him.
“You already know.”
“My father?”
Adrian shook his head.
“The man who pretended to be your father.”
Lorenzo's stomach tightened.
“Then tell me his name.”
Adrian reached into his coat.
He removed an old photograph.
He placed it on the seat.
Lorenzo looked down.
A young man stood beside Lorenzo's mother.
And beside them was another man.
Lorenzo's blood went cold.
He knew him.
Everyone in the DeLuca family knew him.
The man had been the family lawyer.
The man who had handled his father's estate.
The man who had attended Lorenzo's mother's funeral.
The man who had guided Lorenzo through the first years of his inheritance.
The man Lorenzo had trusted.
“Richard Bell.”
Adrian nodded.
“He was your father's closest adviser.”
Lorenzo stared at the photograph.
“He's dead.”
“No.”
“He died ten years ago.”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
Adrian pointed at the photograph.
“Look at the man beside him.”
Lorenzo looked again.
The photograph was old.
The image was faded.
But there was something strange.
The man beside Richard had Lorenzo's face.
Not exactly.
Older.
Harder.
But unmistakably related.
Lorenzo's hand began to shake.
“Who is that?”
Adrian answered:
“Your real father.”
The car went silent.
Even Emma stopped moving.
Lorenzo stared at the photograph.
“My father was Michael DeLuca.”
“No.”
“He raised me.”
“Yes.”
“He gave me his name.”
“Yes.”
“He loved me.”
Adrian looked away.
“He used you.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“For what?”
“To hide the existence of another heir.”
“Who?”
Adrian looked at Emma.
“Her.”
Lorenzo looked down.
Emma was asleep against his chest.
Adrian continued.
“Your biological father created the trust.”
“And Michael?”
“Stole it.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed the child who inherited it would eventually expose him.”
Lorenzo stared at the sleeping girl.
“So he tried to kill her.”
“Yes.”
“And Isabella stopped him.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Isabella make me believe she was dead?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Because she discovered something else.”
“What?”
“That Michael wasn't acting alone.”
Lorenzo's expression hardened.
“Who helped him?”
Adrian's answer came slowly.
“Your mother.”
Lorenzo froze.
“No.”
“She knew.”
“No.”
“She knew the baby was being targeted.”
“My mother protected me.”
“She protected the family.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
Adrian's voice softened.
“It's not.”
The vehicle finally stopped at a second safe location.
A farmhouse hidden among trees.
No lights.
No road signs.
No nearby buildings.
Lorenzo carried Emma inside.
He laid her gently on a bed.
She opened her eyes.
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Don't go.”
Lorenzo's heart broke.
“I won't.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
She smiled.
Then closed her eyes.
Lorenzo remained beside her.
For the first time, he understood what Isabella had sacrificed.
She hadn't disappeared because she didn't love him.
She had disappeared because loving him wasn't enough to keep their daughter alive.
Someone had been hunting Emma from the moment she was born.
And the person behind it had been inside Lorenzo's own family.
A knock came at the door.
Lorenzo turned.
Elena stood there.
Her red coat was soaked.
She had blood on her sleeve.
Lorenzo immediately raised his gun.
“You.”
Elena looked at him.
“Lower it.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You took my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You kept her from me.”
“Yes.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you.”
Elena looked toward the bedroom.
“Because without me, she would be dead.”
Lorenzo didn't lower the gun.
“You knew Isabella.”
“Yes.”
“You helped her fake the crash.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Elena's eyes hardened.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Lorenzo stepped closer.
“What happened to her?”
Elena swallowed.
“Three weeks ago, she stopped contacting me.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Who took her?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are you here?”
Elena looked at Emma.
“Because Isabella gave me one final instruction.”
“What?”
“If anything happened to her…”
Elena reached inside her coat.
She removed a small envelope.
She handed it to Lorenzo.
His name was written on the front.
LORENZO.
He opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
Isabella.
Alive.
Sitting in a dark room.
Holding a newborn.
But the photograph wasn't recent.
It had been taken the day after the crash.
On the back was a message.
I am alive. Emma is safe. Don't come looking for me.
Below it:
If Elena gives you this, it means I failed.
Lorenzo's heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Elena looked at him.
“It means Isabella knew someone would eventually find her.”
“Who?”
Elena shook her head.
“She didn't know.”
“Then what did she know?”
Elena's expression changed.
“She knew someone had betrayed her.”
“Who?”
Elena looked toward the bedroom.
Then back at Lorenzo.
“You.”
Lorenzo went still.
“What?”
“She believed you had unknowingly given the enemy everything they needed.”
“I never betrayed her.”
“I know.”
“Then who did?”
Elena whispered:
“Your phone.”
Lorenzo frowned.
“My phone?”
“Every call you made. Every location you visited. Every message Isabella sent you.”
Elena stepped closer.
“Someone had access to your phone.”
“Who?”
Elena's answer was almost inaudible.
“Marco.”
Lorenzo's face hardened.
But Elena wasn't finished.
“Marco didn't just track you.”
She paused.
“He tracked Isabella.”
Lorenzo looked at the photograph again.
Then at Emma.
Then at Elena.
“And now?”
Elena's eyes filled with fear.
“Now he knows where your daughter is.”
A sound came from outside.
The unmistakable crunch of tires over gravel.
Lorenzo turned toward the window.
Headlights appeared between the trees.
One vehicle.
Then another.
Then a third.
Elena drew her weapon.
Lorenzo picked up Emma.
Sophia rushed into the room.
“What's happening?”
Elena looked at Lorenzo.
“They found us.”
“How?”
She looked at his phone.
“The same way they always do.”
Lorenzo pulled the device from his pocket.
The screen lit up.
A new message.
No number.
No name.
Only six words:
YOU CANNOT HIDE HER FROM ME.
Lorenzo looked at Emma.
The little girl was awake now.
Watching him.
Then she whispered:
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“I know that man.”
Lorenzo's blood ran cold.
“What man?”
Emma pointed toward the window.
At the edge of the trees stood a tall figure.
He wasn't holding a weapon.
He wasn't running.
He was simply standing there.
Watching the farmhouse.
Watching Emma.
Lorenzo couldn't see his face clearly.
But Emma could.
She whispered:
“He came to Mommy's room.”
“Who?”
The child hugged her rabbit.
“The man who said…”
She paused.
Then finished:
“…Daddy told him where I was.”
Lorenzo stared through the glass.
His face became completely still.
Because the man outside finally stepped into the headlights.
And Lorenzo recognized him.
Not Marco.
Not Adrian.
Not Richard Bell.
It was the one man Lorenzo had trusted more than anyone.
The man who had held Isabella's hand at the funeral.
The man who had helped him bury the empty coffin.
The man who had promised, eight months earlier, that he would never stop searching for Lorenzo's daughter.
His best friend.
Matteo.
He smiled through the rain.
And lifted his phone.
A message appeared on Lorenzo's screen.
Open the door.
May you like
Then another.
Or Isabella dies tonight.
