Chapter 4 - THE SECURITY AUDIT
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The double doors of the dining room swung shut, sealing fifty elite socialites inside under armed guard.
Luca did not wait for the catering staff to clear the plates or the guests to recover their senses.
He scooped Oliver effortlessly into his left arm, his right hand firmly reaching out to take mine.
“Come with me, Emily,” Luca commanded softly, his grip warm, calloused, and unshakeable.
I didn't hesitate; I gathered the hem of my maid’s skirt and followed him out of the chaotic hall.
We walked swiftly down the quiet, vaulted corridor leading to the private executive wing of the mansion.
The contrast between the luxurious gold-leaf ballroom and the cold steel security hub upstairs was jarring.
Luca pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner of the master control room.
The heavy reinforced door clicked open, revealing a room lined with sixteen high-definition surveillance monitors.
Daniel, Luca’s senior tech analyst, leaped to his feet from behind the central console.
“Boss, we just intercepted an outgoing encrypted transmission from Miss Bellini’s private phone,” Daniel reported urgently.
“She sent a one-word alert to Salvatore’s south-side compound three minutes before the jammers went live.”
“What was the word?” Luca asked, setting Oliver down gently into a plush leather executive chair.
“‘Burn,’” Daniel replied, turning the monitors toward Luca.
“She activated the cleanup protocol for the Bellini warehouse on 31st Street.”
Luca’s jaw set like cold iron as he leaned over the illuminated console.
“Show me the second-floor terrace cameras from yesterday evening between eight and ten o’clock.”
Daniel’s fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard with practiced speed.
The central screen flickered, displaying the dark, rain-swept stone balcony outside Oliver’s bedroom.
At exactly nine-fourteen, the camera footage skipped, showing thirty seconds of static.
“Someone looped the feed,” Daniel noted, zooming in on the timestamps.
“The loop was executed using an internal administrative password.”
Luca didn't need to ask whose password had been used; only Vanessa had demanded executive security overrides for the wedding preparations.
Daniel bypassed the looped code, pulling the raw backup footage stored on the isolated analog hard drive.
The static cleared, revealing the unmistakable figure of a tall man in a dark trench coat scaling the trellis.
He slipped through the French doors of Oliver’s room, staying inside for less than four minutes.
When he emerged onto the balcony again, the light from the garden floodlights caught his face clearly.
It was Enzo Moretti, holding a silver lighter and lighting a clove cigarette.
Oliver sat in the leather chair, clutching the sleeve of his navy sweater, his hazel eyes wide with dread.
“That’s him, Daddy,” Oliver whispered, pointing at the monitor.
“That’s the man who took Mommy.”
Luca reached out, his large hand gently resting on the crown of his son’s head.
“He’s never coming near you again, Oliver,” Luca said, his voice dropping into a solemn, unbreakable vow.
He looked over his shoulder at me, his dark eyes searching my pale face.
“Emily, did you notice anything unusual when you brought Oliver’s milk up last night?”
I swallowed hard, stepping closer to the console.
“The balcony doors were unlocked, Mr. Moretti,” I said truthfully, remembering the chill in the room.
“Oliver had pulled all his blankets over his head and was shivering.”
“He told me there were monsters outside the glass, but I thought it was just a bad dream from the thunder.”
Luca’s expression softened with an immense, protective warmth as he looked at me.
“You didn't dismiss him,” Luca said softly.
“You stayed in his room until he fell asleep.”
“I stayed until two in the morning, sir,” I replied, lowering my gaze.
“He was too scared to be alone.”
Luca reached across the console, his warm fingers lightly brushing my knuckles where they rested on the desk.
“You gave my son more comfort in one night than the woman I was supposed to marry gave him in two years.”
The emergency radio on Daniel’s belt crackled with sharp static.
Marco’s voice boomed through the speaker:
“Boss, we have Enzo.”
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“He was boarding a private boat at the Navy Pier marina.”
“We’re bringing him down to the wine cellar right now.”
