Chapter 2 - Forty-Seven Missing MinutesNobody moved for several seconds.
Nobody had ordered them to.
They simply knew what happened to people who approached Nico Varric without permission.
For three weeks, the nine-month-old had screamed whenever anyone unfamiliar came within ten feet of him.
Doctors blamed trauma.
A child psychologist called it separation anxiety.
Matteo called it the only warning system in his house that had never lied to him.
Nico had been taken from his nursery twenty-three nights earlier.
The kidnapping had lasted exactly forty-seven minutes.
Forty-seven minutes in which the most feared man in Chicago had discovered that all his money, power, guards, cameras, and enemies meant nothing when his child was missing.
His men recovered Nico inside an abandoned delivery van near the river.
Alive.
Uninjured.
Terrified.
The kidnappers were gone.
One guard was dead.
Another had disappeared.
And Matteo had buried the investigation after two brutal weeks because every trail led nowhere.
Then Liana arrived.
She was twenty-eight, newly hired by the estate manager, with dark hair pinned neatly behind her head and a red housekeeping uniform that looked too bright against her pale face.
She had been working at the Varric estate for four days.
Matteo had never spoken to her.
As far as he knew, she had never been near his son.
That afternoon, Nico’s cries were echoing through the marble foyer while Matteo paced beneath a crystal chandelier.
“Call Dr. Heller again,” Matteo snapped.
“He was here this morning,” his head of security, Victor Hale, said carefully.
“Then call him again.”
Nico twisted in Matteo’s arms.
His tiny face was wet with tears.
“Papa’s here,” Matteo whispered, lowering his voice in a way no enemy had ever heard. “You’re safe.”
The baby screamed harder.
Across the foyer, Liana froze beside a linen cart.
Something changed in her expression.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She stared at Nico.
Then the folded towels slipped from her hands.
“Sir,” she whispered.
Victor immediately stepped between them.
“Keep moving.”
But Liana didn’t.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He’s scared.”
Matteo turned.
Every conversation stopped.
“You think I don’t know that?”
Liana swallowed.
“No, sir.”
“Then go.”
Nico suddenly looked toward her.
His crying broke for half a second.
Liana noticed.
So did Matteo.
She took one careful step forward.
Victor’s hand moved beneath his jacket.
“Don’t.”
But Nico stretched one trembling arm toward her.
Liana stared at him.
“Oh my God.”
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“What?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she whispered something so softly Matteo almost missed it.
“Little moon.”
Nico stopped crying.
Completely.
The silence was so sudden it felt unnatural.
Every man in the foyer stared.
Matteo’s blood went cold.
Liana covered her mouth.
Nico reached harder.
Toward her.
“Give him to me,” she whispered.
Victor laughed once in disbelief.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
But Nico began whimpering again, desperate now, twisting toward the maid.
Matteo studied her.
“Why does he know you?”
“He doesn’t.”
“You called him something.”
Liana shook her head.
“I don’t know why I said it.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“You have three seconds to explain.”
“I can’t.”
“One.”
Her breathing quickened.
“Sir—”
“Two.”
“I heard someone call him that before.”
Matteo froze.
“Where?”
Liana looked at Nico.
Then at Matteo.
“At St. Vincent’s Hospital.”
Matteo’s face changed.
Nico had been born at St. Vincent’s.
But that was nine months ago.
Liana had never been listed as hospital staff.
Before Matteo could speak, Nico lunged toward her so suddenly he nearly slipped from his father’s arms.
Liana caught him instinctively.
Victor drew his gun.
Two guards did the same.
“Put him down.”
But Nico had already wrapped both tiny arms around Liana’s neck.
The child who had screamed at nurses, relatives, guards, and even his own nanny pressed his face against the maid’s shoulder.
Silent.
Safe.
Liana began to cry.
Matteo watched her hands.
Her breathing.
Her eyes.
Nothing about the moment made sense.
Then Liana started humming.
Three notes.
Only three.
Matteo felt as though someone had punched him in the chest.
His dead wife, Elena, had hummed the same melody to Nico every night.
Matteo grabbed Liana’s wrist.
“Where did you hear that?”
She looked terrified.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“I swear.”
“How do you know my wife’s lullaby?”
“I don’t know!”
Nico whimpered.
Matteo released her.
Liana held the baby closer, shaking.
Then she noticed something behind Nico’s left ear.
A tiny fading bruise.
Her face drained of color.
“What is it?” Matteo demanded.
Liana touched the mark carefully.
“That wasn’t from the kidnapping.”
Everyone went still.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“How would you know?”
Liana stared at him.
“Because I’ve seen that mark before.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Where?”
Her eyes filled with something deeper than fear.
Grief.
“My little sister had one exactly like it the night she disappeared.”
Matteo said nothing.
Liana looked toward the security cameras above the staircase.
Then she asked the question that would reopen the case Matteo had ordered buried.
“Mr. Varric…”
Her voice trembled.
“On the night they took your son, did anyone check whether the kidnappers were actually trying to take him out of the house?”
Matteo stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
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Liana hugged Nico tighter.
“What if they were trying to bring someone in?”
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