Chapter 20 - The Voice from the Grave
The interior of Haven Crest was a battlefield. Spent bullet casings littered the marble foyer. Several of Sebastian's most loyal guards lay unconscious or wounded, being tended to by emergency responders.
"Leo! Baby Miller!" Claire screamed, abandoning all caution as she raced up the sweeping grand staircase toward the pediatric medical suite.
"Claire, wait!" Sebastian yelled, sprinting right behind her.
They burst into the medical wing.
The heavy reinforced doors had been blown open by shaped charges. The nursery was in disarray—monitors smashed, IV lines ripped, medication carts overturned.
The isolette was open.
Empty.
Claire’s knees collapsed beneath her. She hit the floor, letting out a raw, soul-shattering cry of despair. "No... no, no, no! They took him! They took the baby!"
Sebastian stood frozen in the center of the room. His hands shook as he looked at the empty crib where only hours before, he had watched his newborn son fight for life. Nearby, a trail of blood led toward the corner of the room.
Sebastian rushed over and pushed aside a collapsed curtain.
Leo was lying there, bruised, his shirt torn, clutching his side.
"Leo!" Sebastian dropped to his knees, gathering his older son into his arms. "Leo, talk to me! Are you alive?"
Leo groaned, coughing, his eyes fluttering open. "Dad... Dad, I tried to stop them... I tried to hide him in the secret passage..."
"Who took him, Leo?" Sebastian pleaded, his voice breaking with sheer torment. "Who took your brother?"
Leo reached into his pocket with trembling, bloody fingers and pulled out a small, metallic object—a gold signet ring with a crest engraved on the face. A crest bearing a coiled serpent around a dagger.
Sebastian stared at the ring. His face went ghostly white.
"That's... that's impossible," Sebastian breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "That ring belongs to my brother, Antonio. Antonio died ten years ago. I buried him with my own hands."
Suddenly, the intercom speaker mounted on the nursery wall crackled to life with a high-pitched whine of feedback.
Claire choked back her tears. Leo stiffened in Sebastian's arms.
Through the speaker, the sound of a baby's faint, distressed cry filled the room—Baby Miller’s fragile, unmistakable whimper.
Then, a smooth, mocking voice came over the line, echoing off the cracked marble walls of Haven Crest:
*"Did you really think a shallow grave in Palermo could hold me, Sebastian? You took my syndicate. You took my woman. And now, I have taken all three of your heirs. If you ever want to see your newborn breathe another day... bring Arthur Miller’s daughter to the docks at midnight. Alone. Or the baby goes into the ocean."*
The intercom clicked dead.
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Claire looked up at Sebastian in sheer horror. Sebastian rose to his feet, the ring clutched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles split, blood dripping onto the nursery floor—as the digital clock on the wall blinked: *11:18 PM*.
They had forty-two minutes.
