Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY ROOM
The revelation hit Evelyn like a physical blow. The world tilted, the streetlights outside bleeding into a blur.
"No," she shook her head, her fingers tightening around the lighter. "He had gambling debts. The police said—"
"The police were bought by Celeste's father," Lorenzo interrupted, his tone gentler now, though the urgency remained. "Arthur found out the Vanes were skimming from the Commission. He came to my father with the proof. They killed them both to bury it. I was eighteen. I've been looking for his family for a decade, but you were put into the foster system under your mother's maiden name."
Tears spilled down Evelyn’s cheeks. Ten years of resentment, of believing her father abandoned her for a card game, dissolved into ash. He had tried to do the right thing. And it killed him.
"We don't have time to grieve," Lorenzo said, his hand briefly covering hers. The warmth of his palm was a stark contrast to his lethal reputation. "If they know who you are, they'll realize I have Arthur's daughter. You are the only one who can legally claim the safety deposit box your father left behind. The one with the ledgers."
Evelyn gasped. "Leo."
Lorenzo shoved the car into gear.
They arrived at the rundown Cicero complex three minutes later. Lorenzo drew his weapon, motioning for Evelyn to stay behind him as they took the concrete stairs to the third floor.
The hallway smelled of boiled cabbage and damp carpet. When they reached apartment 3B, Evelyn’s scream lodged in her throat.
The deadbolt was completely shattered. The door hung slightly open.
"Stay here," Lorenzo commanded. He kicked the door wide and cleared the room in seconds.
"Clear," he called out.
Evelyn rushed in. The tiny studio was trashed. Drawers pulled out, mattresses flipped. But there was no blood.
"Leo!" she cried out, dropping to her knees by a small cot in the corner. His favorite stuffed bear was gone.
"They have him," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "Celeste took my baby."
Lorenzo knelt beside her, his dark eyes scanning the floor. He picked up a small, crumpled piece of paper near the door frame. "Look at this."
Evelyn took it. It was a drawing. Stick figures. A woman with brown hair, a little boy, and an old woman with a cane. At the bottom, in messy crayon: Went to Mrs. H. Too loud.
"Mrs. Higgins," Evelyn gasped, hope surging through her. "My neighbor downstairs. She’s deaf in one ear. She watches him sometimes when I work late."
They bolted down the stairs. Lorenzo stood back as Evelyn pounded on door 2A. A chain rattled, and the door cracked open. An elderly woman peered out.
"Evelyn? Dear, it's awfully late. There was such a racket upstairs, little Leo came down—"
The door swung wider, and a small boy in dinosaur pajamas hurled himself at Evelyn's legs.
"Mommy!"
Evelyn collapsed to the floor, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his soft hair. "I've got you, baby. Mommy's here."
Lorenzo watched them, something profound shifting in his cold eyes. But the moment was shattered by the sound of screeching tires outside the window.
Lorenzo peered through the blinds. Two black SUVs had just blocked the street. Armed men were pouring out.
"They found the car," Lorenzo said, pulling his phone from his pocket. He dialed a number. "Marcus. I need extraction. Cicero. Now."
He hung up, turning to Evelyn. "My men are coming. But so are Celeste's."
Little Leo looked up at Lorenzo, his big brown eyes wide but unafraid. "Are you a good guy?"
Lorenzo looked at the boy, then at Evelyn. "I am tonight, kid."
Suddenly, Lorenzo’s phone buzzed. A text from Marcus: We are at the back exit. Hurry.
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Lorenzo grabbed Evelyn's arm. "Let's go."
As they ran toward the fire escape, Leo dropped a toy car. Evelyn turned to grab it, but froze. Looking down through the slats of the metal stairs, she saw Marcus—Lorenzo’s supposed savior—handing a wad of cash to one of Celeste’s gunmen.
