Chapter 9 - WHAT GRETA WAS PAID TO DO
Greta did not deny the payments.
That frightened me.
We met in a police interview room with her lawyer, Agent Singh, Alessandro, and me.
Greta looked exhausted but composed.
The hospital had released her that morning.
She still wore bruises from the abduction.
Singh placed copies of the ledger on the table.
“Four years. Monthly transfers.”
Greta nodded.
“What for?”
“Silence.”
My stomach tightened.
Alessandro said, “Whose silence?”
“Mine.”
“About Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“Luca paid you.”
“Yes.”
“You accepted.”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“You framed me while taking money from the man hunting me.”
Greta looked at me.
“Yes.”
Anger rose fast.
“Then everything you said was a lie.”
“No.”
“Explain.”
“I took his money because refusing would have told him I was not controlled.”
I laughed.
Convenient.
Singh did not.
“Did you spend it?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“Separate account.”
“Amount?”
“Just over six hundred thousand.”
“Why keep it?”
“Evidence.”
“Why not report it?”
Greta looked at Singh.
“I reported evidence once.”
“Mercer.”
“Yes.”
The room quieted.
She had learned the same lesson my mother had.
The wrong official could become another threat.
Still.
Four years was long.
“So you played along,” Alessandro said.
“Yes.”
“With what instructions?”
“Watch the house. Watch Isabella’s old files. Report whether anyone came asking.”
“Did you report Nora?”
Greta looked down.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“The week she was hired.”
“You told Luca I was here.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“You brought him to us.”
Greta’s face twisted.
“I was already in too deep.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I thought if I did not report you, he would know I had switched sides.”
“You had switched sides.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“So I needed time.”
“For what?”
“To find the evidence first.”
“You used us.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
There it was.
No protection excuse.
No softened language.
She used me.
Used Mia.
Then panicked when she recognized Bunny.
“Why frame me?”
“I needed you outside the house before Luca moved.”
“What move?”
“He told me three days ago to search your room while you slept.”
My skin went cold.
“The tea.”
“Yes.”
“And the clock?”
“If you were fired, you would leave quickly.”
“Then Luca’s people could follow us.”
Greta looked at me.
“I planned to send you to a safe apartment.”
I laughed bitterly.
“With what? Another anonymous instruction?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever consider asking me?”
“No.”
“At least that’s honest.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“You accepted Luca’s money. Reported Nora. Hid evidence. Drugged an employee. Framed her for theft.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect us to believe you intended protection.”
“No.”
Everyone stopped.
Greta continued.
“I expect consequences.”
Maybe everyone in this story was finally learning that sentence.
Singh asked, “What do the payments connect to?”
Greta leaned forward.
“Luca used one account repeatedly. He called it domestic retention.”
“Meaning?”
“People inside houses.”
“Which houses?”
“Conti properties. Politicians. Judges. Contractors.”
Alessandro’s face hardened.
“A spy network.”
“Yes.”
“Names?”
“I have some.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
Singh sighed.
“Of course.”
Greta almost smiled.
“Old habits.”
She gave them the account.
The list was worse than anyone expected.
Not an army.
Something more realistic.
Assistants.
Drivers.
Housekeepers.
Maintenance staff.
People nobody noticed.
Some knew they were passing sensitive information.
Some thought they were simply reporting scheduling details to security consultants.
Luca had built access through ordinary people.
That was how he always knew.
My hiring.
Mia’s routines.
Mercer.
The mansion.
Even Matteo’s possible escape routes.
He did not need magic.
He needed people who were invisible to the powerful.
I had been one of those people.
That realization changed the way Alessandro looked at his staff.
Maybe himself too.
The list included one name that made Dom sit down.
Rosa Alvarez.
“No.”
I felt sick.
Rosa.
The cook.
The woman watching Mia.
I stood.
“Call her.”
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Mia was with her.
My whole body went cold.
Alessandro was already on the phone.
Security team at the apartment did not answer either.
Singh moved.
“Local units now.”
We ran.
The secure apartment was fifteen minutes away.
It took eleven.
Door open.
One officer unconscious.
Another missing.
Rosa gone.
Mia gone.
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
Not again.
“No.”
Alessandro caught my arm.
I pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He did not.
Dom searched.
Bedroom.
Kitchen.
Closet.
No Mia.
On the table sat Bunny.
That terrified me more than blood.
Mia never left Bunny voluntarily.
Under it was a note.
NO MORE COPIES. NO MORE POLICE. BRING MATTEO.
I stared.
Luca wanted Mia’s father.
Trade.
Blood for blood.
Alessandro’s face changed.
“No.”
I turned.
“You don’t get to say no.”
“I mean we do not trade one hostage for another.”
“That is my daughter.”
“I know.”
“Then stop talking like this is strategy.”
His eyes hardened.
“It is strategy if strategy brings her home alive.”
I hated him.
Because he was right and because his calm felt unbearable.
Matteo called from the hospital when Singh informed his protective detail.
“I’ll go.”
I nearly screamed.
“No.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“You met her in photographs.”
“She is still my daughter.”
“No.”
“Nora.”
“I will not have her first memory of you be that you disappeared for her.”
Silence.
Then he said, “What do you want me to do?”
I cried.
Because that was the right question.
Not “what am I allowed to do.”
What do you need.
“I don’t know.”
“We find a third option,” he said.
I almost laughed through tears.
“Wrong story,” I thought—but no, this story has no such prior motif. Instead I said, “We find another way.”
Agent Singh built a plan.
Luca wanted Matteo.
We would let him believe he was getting him.
No real exchange.
No unsupervised meeting.
No vigilante rescue.
Alessandro hated pieces of it.
Matteo hated all of it.
I hated everything.
But we followed procedure.
Because the alternative was men with guns deciding Mia’s life.
The contact instructions arrived from Luca’s phone.
Old ferry terminal.
Midnight.
Matteo alone.
I did not go.
That was the hardest decision of my life.
I stayed in a command room with Singh because if I appeared unexpectedly, Luca might panic.
Alessandro stayed too.
He had wanted to be near the terminal.
Singh said no.
He obeyed.
Also hard.
Matteo wore a concealed tracker and protective equipment.
Agents were positioned beyond sight.
At 12:04, he walked into the terminal.
Camera feed showed empty concrete.
One light.
Then Rosa appeared.
My stomach flipped.
Alive.
She held Mia.
Mia was crying.
Rosa was too.
Matteo stopped.
The first time he saw his daughter in person.
Through a kidnapping.
His face broke.
“Mia.”
She stared.
Rosa whispered something.
Mia looked at him.
“Daddy?”
I collapsed into a chair.
Alessandro turned away.
Even Singh’s face softened.
Matteo said, “Hi.”
His voice shook.
Luca appeared behind them.
Gun in hand.
Not pointed at Mia.
Yet.
“Family reunion.”
I gripped the table.
Singh whispered commands into her radio.
Wait.
Wait.
Luca looked at Matteo.
“You look terrible.”
“You always talked too much.”
“Three years and still rude.”
“Let them go.”
“Not until I have what I need.”
“You have me.”
“No.”
Luca smiled.
“I want your statement.”
Matteo frowned.
“What statement?”
“That you renounce any claim. That the child has no Conti standing. That Alessandro manipulated all evidence against me.”
I stared.
This was not only about succession.
He wanted narrative.
A weapon for court and family.
Matteo laughed.
“You kidnapped a three-year-old for paperwork.”
“For legitimacy.”
“You don’t have any.”
Luca’s face tightened.
Good.
Bad.
He raised the gun.
Agents moved.
Too early?
Too late?
Rosa suddenly dropped.
Not Mia.
Herself.
She wrapped her body around Mia.
Matteo lunged.
Gunshot.
The screen shook.
I screamed.
Agents flooded the terminal.
Alessandro grabbed my shoulders because I was trying to run toward a door that led nowhere.
“Wait.”
“Let go!”
“Wait.”
Radio chaos.
Then Singh shouted.
“Status!”
Seconds.
Hours.
A voice answered.
“Child secure.”
My knees gave.
“Adult female injured.”
Rosa.
“Male hostage injured.”
Matteo.
My heart stopped again.
“Shooter?”
Pause.
“Luca Conti in custody.”
Alive.
I cried so hard I could not see.
“Where’s Mia?”
Singh listened.
Then smiled.
“Safe.”
The word broke everything open.
When I reached the hospital, Mia ran to me.
No injuries.
Rosa had taken a bullet through the shoulder.
Matteo had been hit in the side.
Both stable.
Luca was under guard.
Mia clung to me.
“Daddy got hurt.”
I held her.
“Yes.”
“He came.”
“Yes.”
She whispered, “He didn’t leave.”
No.
He had not.
Three years of pain rearranged itself in one sentence.
Across the hall, Alessandro stood alone.
He had not entered.
Not his moment.
I looked at him.
Then nodded once.
He nodded back.
No claim.
No interference.
Maybe that was how trust began.
Not with promises.
With restraint.
While Mia slept after the rescue, I sat between Rosa’s and Matteo’s hospital rooms.
Two people had put their bodies between my daughter and a bullet.
Neither had owed her that.
I thought about Alessandro’s world, where loyalty had always been measured through blood, debt, fear, and command.
Then I looked at those two doors.
Rosa was not family by blood.
Matteo barely knew Mia.
Yet both had moved before anyone could order them.
Maybe that was the difference between loyalty and obedience.
One can be demanded.
May you like
The other has to be chosen.
I wrote the sentence in my phone because I did not want to forget it when powerful people started explaining everything again.
