Chapter 3 - FOUR PEOPLE WITH KEYSBy sunrise, the Rossi mansion no longer felt like a home.
She had cared for Leo from the day he came home from the hospital.
And she looked at me as if I had just crawled through a window with a knife.
“Mr. Rossi,” she said, “give me the child.”
Lorenzo didn’t move.
Evelyn stepped closer.
“This woman has exposed him to uncontrolled bacteria. We don’t know her health status. We don’t know whether she takes medication. We don’t know—”
“She saved his life.”
Lorenzo’s voice stopped her.
Evelyn blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“He ate.”
“That proves nothing.”
“He swallowed.”
“Babies sometimes temporarily—”
“He swallowed more in ten minutes than your charts say he has swallowed all day.”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
I watched her carefully.
She was too calm.
People become defensive when accused unfairly.
Evelyn was calculating.
“Sir,” she said, “you are emotional.”
One of Lorenzo’s guards actually looked away.
Nobody told Lorenzo Rossi he was emotional.
Lorenzo stepped toward her.
“My son is dying.”
“I know.”
“You told me his digestive system was failing.”
“Based on medical observations.”
“You told me forcing additional feeds could kill him.”
“It could.”
“And yet he just drank naturally.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“She could have caused aspiration.”
“But she didn’t.”
“We need Dr. Hayes.”
“Call him.”
Evelyn hesitated.
It lasted less than a second.
Lorenzo noticed.
“So call him.”
“He’s unavailable tonight.”
“I pay him seventy thousand dollars a month to be available.”
“He attended a conference in Chicago.”
Lorenzo extended his hand toward Marco Bellini, his head of security.
“Phone.”
Marco handed it over.
Lorenzo dialed.
Nobody spoke.
After fifteen seconds, someone answered.
“Doctor,” Lorenzo said. “Where are you?”
A pause.
Then Lorenzo’s gaze moved to Evelyn.
“You’re at home?”
Her face drained.
I felt Leo stop nursing.
I gently rubbed his back.
Lorenzo continued.
“No. Don’t call anyone. Come here alone.”
He ended the call.
Evelyn’s shoulders stiffened.
“You said Chicago,” Lorenzo said.
“I thought—”
“No. You didn’t.”
“There must have been a change in his schedule.”
“You manage his schedule.”
“I manage Leo’s care.”
“Exactly.”
Lorenzo took the bottle from my hand.
“Marco.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Seal the house.”
Evelyn inhaled sharply.
“No one leaves,” Lorenzo continued. “No calls. No messages. Collect every bottle, medication vial, formula container, feeding log and camera recording from the nursery.”
“Lorenzo,” Evelyn said.
Everyone froze.
Employees called him Mr. Rossi.
Only people who considered themselves family used his first name.
He looked at her.
“You were close to Sofia,” Evelyn said softly. “You’re grieving. Don’t turn that grief against the people who stayed.”
Something shifted in his face.
For the first time, I realized Evelyn had known Leo’s mother.
Maybe intimately.
Lorenzo’s tone became colder.
“My wife trusted you.”
“She did.”
“And therefore I trusted you.”
“You still can.”
“Then you should have no reason to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
She was lying.
I knew because I was terrified, and I recognized the tiny things fear does to a person.
The stiffness around the mouth.
The shallow breaths.
The fingers held unnaturally still.
Leo stirred.
I looked down.
His eyes were closing.
“Is that normal?” I whispered.
Lorenzo immediately turned.
“What?”
“He’s getting sleepy.”
“He sleeps constantly.”
My heart accelerated.
“How long after feeding?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, does he always become unusually sleepy after bottles?”
Lorenzo stared at me.
Evelyn answered first.
“He’s ill.”
“I wasn’t asking you.”
Her eyes hardened.
Leo’s arm went limp.
“Leo?”
I touched his cheek.
No response.
Lorenzo lunged forward.
“Leo.”
The baby breathed, but too slowly.
I placed two fingers against his tiny chest.
“Call the doctor again.”
Evelyn reached for him.
“We need to place him down.”
“No!”
My voice cracked across the room.
Everyone stared.
I didn’t care.
“Do not give him anything from this nursery.”
Evelyn’s face turned furious.
“You have no medical authority.”
“And you lied about where his doctor was.”
Lorenzo stepped between us.
“Marco.”
“Sir?”
“Remove Evelyn.”
Her composure finally cracked.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Until Dr. Hayes arrives, you are not touching my son.”
“I have kept that child alive for eight weeks!”
“Have you?”
The question hung in the air.
Evelyn’s lips parted.
Marco approached.
She backed toward the door.
Then she looked directly at me.
What I saw in her eyes was no longer fear.
It was hatred.
“You have no idea what you’ve walked into,” she said.
Marco took her arm.
Lorenzo’s face became stone.
“Take her downstairs.”
The moment Evelyn disappeared, my knees weakened.
Lorenzo noticed.
“You’re shaking.”
“There’s a gun on the table and a Mafia boss locked his nurse downstairs because I smelled a bottle. Yes, I’m shaking.”
For the first time, something almost human crossed his expression.
Not amusement.
Recognition.
“You knew who I was when you took this job.”
“I needed the money.”
“You could have worked somewhere else.”
“People who say that usually have money.”
His eyes held mine.
“What happened to your child?”
The question struck like a fist.
I looked away.
“Nothing relevant.”
“You said you were a mother.”
“I was.”
Silence.
Lorenzo’s gaze dropped to Leo.
Something in his face softened.
“I’m sorry.”
I almost laughed from shock.
Lorenzo Rossi apologizing sounded unnatural.
Leo stirred again.
His breathing improved.
Relief hit me so hard I had to close my eyes.
Forty minutes later, Dr. Nathan Hayes rushed into the nursery still wearing sweatpants beneath his winter coat.
He examined Leo.
Checked his heart rate.
His pupils.
His hydration.
Then he reviewed the feeding logs.
His expression became increasingly confused.
“These records don’t make sense.”
Lorenzo stood beside him.
“Explain.”
“The weight loss is severe, but his laboratory values from Monday don’t fully support the degree of malabsorption Evelyn reported.”
“English.”
Dr. Hayes swallowed.
“If Leo were absorbing as little nutrition as the records claim, several blood markers should look worse.”
“Could the records be false?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo’s jaw flexed.
The doctor examined the bottle.
“Where did this come from?”
“Beside his crib.”
Hayes opened it and smelled it.
His forehead creased.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“I said I don’t know.”
He poured a little onto a sterile strip from his bag.
The strip changed color.
Hayes froze.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He tested again.
Then looked at Lorenzo.
“This sample is abnormally alkaline.”
“Why?”
“There could be several explanations.”
“Name the worst.”
Hayes hesitated.
“Medication contamination.”
The nursery became silent.
Lorenzo’s voice dropped.
“What kind?”
“Certain antacids, sedatives, possibly diluted compounds. We need a proper toxicology panel.”
“Could it make him refuse to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Vomiting?”
“Yes.”
“Sleepiness?”
“Yes.”
“Weight loss?”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo turned toward Marco.
“Who prepared tonight’s bottles?”
Marco checked a tablet.
“According to the kitchen log, Nurse Price requested them at nine-thirty.”
Evelyn.
I felt cold.
But Dr. Hayes shook his head.
“Don’t jump ahead. Anybody could have touched them afterward.”
“Then we test everything.”
Lorenzo looked toward Leo.
The baby had fallen asleep safely against my chest.
Then his gaze returned to me.
“You stay.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“You stay with Leo.”
“I’m a maid.”
“Not anymore.”
“I didn’t agree to—”
“I’ll pay you anything.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“Everything is eventually about money.”
“My daughter wasn’t.”
The words cut through him.
I stood carefully.
“Mr. Rossi, I helped because he was hungry. But feeding your son like this is not something you simply employ someone to do.”
His eyes moved to Leo.
Then back to me.
“What do you want?”
I thought of Lily.
Her empty crib in my apartment.
The breast pump still unopened in a closet.
The aching grief that had followed me into this mansion.
“I want him safe.”
“So do I.”
“Then stop treating everyone like servants who are too afraid to tell you the truth.”
Marco’s eyebrows rose.
Lorenzo stared at me for several seconds.
Then he nodded once.
“Done.”
That should have been the strangest thing that happened that night.
It wasn’t.
At 4:12 a.m., Marco returned carrying a tablet.
His face was grim.
“We checked the nursery cameras.”
Lorenzo stood immediately.
“And?”
“Someone deleted six hours of footage every night for the last three weeks.”
Lorenzo’s face darkened.
“Who had access?”
“Four people.”
“Names.”
Marco swallowed.
“Nurse Price.”
“Expected.”
“Dr. Hayes.”
The doctor went pale.
“Impossible.”
Marco continued.
“Your sister, Bianca.”
Lorenzo stopped moving.
“And the fourth?”
Marco looked toward the nursery door.
May you like
“Your mother.”
For the first time that night, Lorenzo Rossi looked truly afraid.
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