Chapter 7 - divided loyalty
The silence in the penthouse became unbearable.
“Who was the third person, Mr. Moretti?” Elena asked, her voice quiet but piercing.
Lorenzo didn't answer right away. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass, staring out at the first pale gray streaks of dawn cutting across the East River.
Marco stepped in, his tone unusually defensive. “The third scan belongs to Anthony Moretti. Lorenzo’s younger cousin. He handles the family’s legal trusts and real estate holdings from the Midtown office.”
“Where is Anthony right now?” Elena asked, looking directly at Marco.
Marco frowned, clearly annoyed that a twenty-four-year-old hotel maid was asking tactical questions. “Anthony is in Miami at a commercial development summit. He checked into the Four Seasons yesterday afternoon. I verified his flight manifest myself.”
“Did you speak to him directly?” Elena pressed.
“That’s enough,” Marco snapped, stepping toward her. “You saved the boss’s kid, and we’re grateful. But you don't interrogate Moretti lieutenants in this house.”
“Back off, Marco,” Lorenzo commanded without turning around.
Marco froze, his jaw tightening, but he stepped back.
Lorenzo turned slowly. “Elena is asking the right questions because she has no loyalty to protect. Anthony’s phone went straight to voicemail when I tried calling him at two a.m.”
“Miami cell towers had an outage near the beach, boss,” Marco insisted quickly. “It was on the morning wire.”
Elena watched Marco carefully. There was something unnatural in how fast he offered that defense. He was too prepared. His answers were polished, like a man reciting lines from a script he had reviewed twice.
Sofia let out a soft sigh in Elena’s arms, falling into a deep, steady sleep. Dr. Evans packed his equipment and quietly approached Lorenzo.
“Her temperature is normal, Mr. Moretti. The intravenous fluids did their job. She needs rest and sterile surroundings. I’d recommend keeping her in the master bedroom, away from any stress.”
Lorenzo nodded once. “Thank you, Evans. Marco will see you to the lower gate.”
Dr. Evans picked up his black bag, nodded respectfully, and walked toward the private elevator. Marco escorted him out, his heavy footsteps fading down the marble hallway.
Left alone in the cavernous living room with Lorenzo, Elena felt the weight of the room press down on her.
“You don't trust Marco,” Lorenzo said flatly. It wasn't a question.
Elena swallowed, shifting Sofia slightly in her arms. “I don't know Mr. DeLuca. But I grew up in group homes with forty other kids who all had to survive on scraps. You learn to recognize when someone is answering a question they were already waiting for. He had that Miami excuse ready before you even finished your sentence.”
Lorenzo studied her face for a long, quiet moment. “Marco has stood beside me for fifteen years. He took a bullet meant for my chest in Chicago. His father died serving my father.”
“Then maybe he isn't the traitor,” Elena said boldly. “Maybe he’s just covering for someone he loves more than you.”
Lorenzo’s eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous intensity. He took a step closer, but before he could speak, the elevator doors chimed down the hall.
Marco was returning.
Elena quickly looked down at the coffee table where Marco had set his personal tablet and encrypted phone while coordinating the lockdown.
On the polished glass, right beside Marco’s tactical gear, lay a small, crumpled slip of paper that had fallen out of his pocket when he reached for his cigarettes earlier.
May you like
It was a parking stub from the St. Jude Hotel.
Stamped with a check-in time of 1:15 A.M.—an hour before the kidnapping, and three hours after Marco claimed he had been stationed at the Moretti Tower command post.
