Chapter 5 - THE TRAP IS SET
By eight o’clock the following morning, the Rossi estate was quiet—too quiet.
Following my orders, Marco leaked a false rumor to the household staff: Little Leo had suffered a sudden, severe relapse during the night. Dr. Halloran was reportedly preparing to transport the child to New York Presbyterian Hospital under critical conditions.
I sat in my study, watching the security monitors.
On Screen 4, Hannah sat in the nursery, holding a bundle of blankets carefully wrapped to look like a sleeping infant. Her face was pale, but her chin was set with unwavering determination. Downstairs in the secure panic room, the real Leo was sleeping safely under Marco’s personal guard.
At 10:15 AM, a black Maserati pulled up the long gravel driveway.
Victor Rossi stepped out. He was dressed flawlessly in a navy pinstripe suit, carrying his leather briefcase. He walked up the grand staircase with the breezy confidence of a man who believed his hour of triumph had finally arrived.
I met him in the upper hallway outside the nursery.
“Lorenzo!” Victor said, forcing a look of deep concern onto his face. “I heard the news from the staff. Is it true? Is the boy fading?”
I leaned against the doorframe, looking tired, broken, and defeated—the exact image of a grieving father who had lost his last reason to live.
“The doctors say his heart is giving out, Victor,” I mumbled, staring at the floor. “He won't survive the afternoon.”
Victor placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, though I could feel the subtle tension in his fingers—the suppressed excitement of a predator about to feast.
“I’m so sorry, brother,” Victor said softly. “You’ve suffered too much. First Sophia... now the boy. It’s a curse.”
“Maybe it is,” I whispered. “I need a moment alone in my study before the ambulance arrives. Watch the door, will you?”
“Of course, Lorenzo,” Victor said smoothly. “Take all the time you need.”
I walked down the hallway, turning the corner toward my study.
The moment I was out of sight, I slipped into the hidden security observation alcove behind the hallway tapestries. I pulled out my phone and watched the live feed from the nursery camera.
Victor waited ten seconds.
He glanced down both ends of the empty corridor, then quietly pulled a brass key from his pocket—a key to the nursery balcony door that he shouldn't have possessed.
He slipped into the nursery, closing the oak door silently behind him.
Hannah was sitting in the rocking chair, her back turned to him, softly humming.
“You should have stayed in the east wing, little girl,” Victor’s cold voice echoed through the quiet room.
Hannah froze, slowly turning around in the chair while holding the bundled blankets tight against her chest. “Mr. Rossi... what are you doing in here?”
Victor reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small glass syringe filled with clear liquid—the exact same neuro-inhibitor dropped on the balcony two nights ago.
“Fixing a mistake,” Victor said, stepping toward her with a cruel, indifferent smile. “My associate failed two nights ago because you made a scene. Today, I’ll finish it myself. A sudden cardiac arrest... the doctors will say his fragile little body simply couldn't handle the strain.”
“You’re a monster,” Hannah breathed, her voice shaking with rage. “He’s your nephew! He’s an innocent baby!”
“He’s an obstacle,” Victor corrected her coldly, extending the syringe. “He stands between me and two billion dollars. And frankly, so do you. Once I inject him, I’ll make sure you take the blame for it. The grieving father will destroy you, and I’ll take control of the empire.”
He reached out to grab the bundle of blankets from her arms.
Hannah pulled the blankets back, revealing an empty, rolled-up throw pillow.
Victor blinked, his eyes widening in confusion. “What—?”
CLICK.
The cold barrel of my SIG Sauer pressed hard against the base of Victor’s skull from behind.
“Looking for my son, Victor?” I whispered in his ear.
Victor went instantly stiff, his face draining of all color as the realization hit him like a physical blow.
The heavy nursery doors burst open, and Marco rushed in with four armed security officers, their weapons trained directly on my brother’s chest.
“Lorenzo...” Victor stammered, dropping the syringe onto the carpet. “This—this is a misunderstanding! I was just—”
“Shut up,” I commanded, my voice devoid of any human warmth.
I grabbed Victor by his collar, spinning him around and slamming him hard against the wall. The glass framed pictures rattled against the plaster.
“You hired the hitmen who bombed my car three months ago, didn't you?” I growled, digging the barrel of my gun into his chin. “Sophia died because of you!”
Victor swallowed hard, panic breaking through his polished exterior. “She wasn't supposed to be in the car! The bomb was meant for you! I needed you out of the way!”
Hannah gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.
I stared into my brother’s eyes—the eyes of the boy I had grown up with, the man I had trusted with my family’s legacy. A cold, dark abyss opened up inside me, urging me to pull the trigger and paint the wall with his brains.
My finger tightened on the trigger.
“Lorenzo! No!”
Hannah’s soft voice broke through the storm in my head. She stepped forward, placing a gentle, trembling hand on my arm.
“Don't do it,” she pleaded, tears shining in her green eyes. “If you kill him, you go to prison. Leo needs his father. Don't let this monster take you away from him too.”
I looked at Hannah. Then I looked at the floor, where my son’s empty crib stood in the morning light.
She was right. My life wasn't mine to throw away on revenge anymore. My life belonged to Leo.
I slammed the butt of my pistol into Victor’s jaw. His teeth cracked, and he collapsed onto the carpet, groaning in pain.
“Take him away, Marco,” I ordered coldly. “Hand him over to the FBI alongside the recordings from these cameras. Make sure he spends the rest of his pathetic life in a federal cage.”
As the guards dragged my screaming, bloody brother out of the nursery, the heavy tension in the house finally shattered like brittle glass.
I stood there, breathing heavily, the gun heavy in my hand.
Hannah walked over to me. Without a word, she reached out and took the weapon from my fingers, setting it safely on the table. Then, she wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest.
May you like
I froze for a second, unaccustomed to human touch. Then, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tightly as the quiet tears I had suppressed since Sophia’s death finally spilled down my cheeks.
***
