Chapter 2 - NINE MINUTES
Sophia pressed a folded linen napkin against Lorenzo’s side.
His entire body tightened.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know it hurts.”
His eyes opened again.
This time, they focused on her.
Barely.
Sophia pulled at the tape across his mouth.
“Slowly.”
Lorenzo’s skin was cold beneath her fingers.
The tape came away.
He dragged in one painful breath.
“Emma?”
“She’s here.”
His eyes immediately searched past Sophia.
Emma sat on the third stair with Biscotti trapped against her chest.
The cat looked offended.
Emma looked terrified.
When Lorenzo saw her, something in his face softened.
“Hey, piccola.”
Emma’s lower lip trembled.
“You got an owie.”
“I noticed.”
“Bad owie.”
“Very bad.”
She slid off the stair.
Sophia caught her.
“Stay there, sweetheart.”
But Lorenzo lifted two fingers weakly.
“Let her.”
Emma approached.
She touched his knee.
“You scared me.”
For a man whose name made grown men cross streets, Lorenzo Duca looked ashamed to have frightened a three-year-old.
“I’m sorry.”
Footsteps sounded above.
Sophia froze.
Lorenzo’s expression changed instantly.
No weakness.
No confusion.
Danger.
“How many?” he whispered.
“I don’t know.”
The pantry doorknob rattled.
Sophia reached for the nearest thing she could use as a weapon.
A wine bottle.
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“Break it first.”
“I know.”
“You’re holding it backward.”
Sophia looked down.
She was.
The lock clicked.
She raised the bottle anyway.
“Marco,” a voice whispered.
Sophia nearly collapsed.
Marco Bruno came down the stairs carrying bolt cutters and a compact medical bag.
He stopped when he saw Lorenzo.
For one second, the security chief’s face broke.
Then discipline returned.
“Boss.”
“Late.”
“You gave me nine minutes.”
“It’s been eleven.”
“Traffic.”
Lorenzo actually laughed once, then grimaced.
Marco cut the restraints.
Sophia caught Lorenzo’s shoulder when his body pitched forward.
“Easy.”
Marco crouched.
“Ricci is four minutes away.”
Lorenzo’s eyes sharpened.
“You called Enzo?”
“I did,” Sophia said.
A strange silence followed.
It lasted less than a second.
Sophia still noticed it.
“Was that wrong?”
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
Marco looked at Lorenzo.
Then Lorenzo said, “No.”
Too carefully.
Sophia’s stomach tightened.
Marco helped Lorenzo onto an old wooden bench.
“How did you find him?”
Sophia pointed at Emma.
“She did.”
Marco looked at the little girl.
Emma hugged Biscotti tighter.
“I followed kitty.”
“You saved his life.”
“Scissors broke.”
Marco glanced at the half-scissors inside Sophia’s apron.
“You tried to cut him free?”
Emma nodded.
Marco lowered himself until they were eye level.
“That was brave.”
“Pink scissors are not strong.”
“No,” Marco said solemnly. “We’ll have to speak to the manufacturer.”
Emma thought about that.
“Okay.”
Another sound came from upstairs.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Marco relaxed slightly.
“Ricci.”
Sophia watched him carefully.
Dr. Enzo Ricci descended carrying a black leather medical case.
He was sixty, elegant even at midnight, with neatly combed silver hair and the calm expression of a man who had delivered babies, closed wounds, and buried secrets for the Duca family longer than Sophia had been alive.
“Lorenzo.”
His concern appeared genuine.
He crossed the room immediately.
“What happened?”
“Later.”
Ricci opened Lorenzo’s shirt.
His hands moved professionally.
Confidently.
Sophia found herself relaxing despite everything.
This was Dr. Ricci.
He had treated Emma’s fever the previous winter without charging Sophia.
He remembered birthdays.
He brought Italian pastries every Christmas.
He had been Lorenzo’s father’s physician.
If anyone in that house was safe, it was Enzo Ricci.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
Ricci examined the wound.
“You were fortunate.”
“I don’t feel fortunate.”
“The blade missed anything immediately fatal.”
“Someone wanted me conscious.”
Ricci stopped for half a heartbeat.
Then continued.
“Probably.”
Marco stood near the stairs.
“Vincent has the entire house locked down.”
Sophia looked at him.
“What?”
“He claims Lorenzo left unexpectedly for New York.”
Lorenzo’s head lifted.
“I did not.”
“I know.”
“Who told him?”
“A message from your phone.”
Lorenzo’s expression became cold.
“My phone was taken before they brought me down here.”
Sophia pictured Vincent sitting behind Lorenzo’s desk.
Smiling.
Her skin prickled.
“Mr. Romano was in your study earlier.”
All three men looked at her.
Sophia immediately wished she had said nothing.
Lorenzo spoke first.
“What did you see?”
“Nothing. Maybe nothing.”
“Sophia.”
She swallowed.
“He was sitting in your chair.”
Marco frowned.
“So?”
“He was smiling.”
“What kind of smile?”
She almost laughed at the absurd question.
“I don’t know. Like…”
“Like he thought he belonged there?”
Lorenzo asked.
Sophia nodded.
Silence.
Ricci finished wrapping Lorenzo’s side.
“We should move him.”
“Where?” Marco asked.
“Upstairs.”
“No,” Lorenzo said.
Ricci stared at him.
“You need a hospital.”
“I need to know who put me in this chair.”
“You need blood work, imaging, stitches—”
“And I need to remain officially missing for the next few hours.”
Ricci stood.
“That is medically irresponsible.”
“So is dying.”
Marco nodded toward the far wall.
“There’s an old storm room behind the wine racks. Concrete walls. Separate ventilation. Vincent doesn’t know the access code.”
“You do?”
“Your father gave it to me.”
Lorenzo looked at Sophia.
“Take Emma upstairs.”
Sophia didn’t move.
“Vincent is upstairs.”
Something changed in Lorenzo’s face.
He had forgotten that she and Emma were now part of this.
“No.”
He looked at Marco.
“They stay with me.”
Sophia blinked.
“Mr. Duca—”
“If Vincent is involved, he knows you work here. If he discovers you found me…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
Emma tugged Sophia’s apron.
“Mama.”
“Yes?”
“Biscotti has treasure.”
The cat was chewing something.
Sophia bent down.
“Biscotti, drop it.”
Naturally, Biscotti ran.
Emma chased him between two wine racks.
“Emma!”
A small metallic object hit the stone.
Sophia picked it up.
A button.
Dark blue horn.
Expensive.
Heavy.
One side had a thread still attached.
Emma pointed excitedly.
“Doctor button.”
Ricci turned.
“What did you say?”
Emma looked at him.
“Your button.”
Sophia smiled nervously.
“Sweetheart, lots of coats have buttons.”
Emma shook her head with absolute certainty.
“No. Doctor moon.”
She pointed at the tiny silver crescent engraved along the edge.
Sophia looked down.
She had seen that crescent before.
On Dr. Ricci’s custom winter coat.
He wore it almost every night from November through March.
Her eyes moved slowly toward him.
Ricci wore the same navy coat now.
One.
Two.
Three buttons.
Then an empty line of thread where the fourth should have been.
Marco saw it too.
So did Lorenzo.
Nobody spoke.
Dr. Ricci looked down at his coat.
May you like
Then back at Emma.
And for the first time since Sophia had known him, the doctor everyone trusted stopped looking kind.
