Chapter 4 - THE NIGHT THE HOUSE WENT DARK
The first alarm was followed by a woman shouting from downstairs.
“Gas!”
Then every light in the DeLuca house died.
Darkness swallowed the library.
Leo screamed.
Matteo moved before anyone else.
“Leo.”
“I’m here!”
Grace heard furniture scrape, then the soft impact of Matteo dropping to one knee near his son.
Francesca’s voice cut through the alarm.
“Emergency power should have engaged.”
“It didn’t,” Matteo said.
“That means this is not a leak.”
Grace’s skin turned cold.
A flashlight snapped on.
Francesca held it low.
“Someone killed the backup.”
Matteo lifted Leo into his arms.
“Safe room.”
Grace took one step.
Pain sliced across her bandages.
She caught the edge of the desk.
Matteo turned.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
A crash sounded downstairs.
Then another.
The alarm stopped.
That was worse.
The silence that replaced it felt deliberate.
Francesca drew a compact pistol from beneath her jacket.
Grace stared at it.
“Stay behind me.”
“I thought this house was secure.”
“It is.”
“Great advertisement.”
Francesca almost smiled.
They moved into the hall.
Emergency strips along the baseboards flickered weakly, turning the corridor into a tunnel of red shadows.
Two guards appeared from the opposite staircase.
“East generator was cut,” one said. “Gate cameras are down.”
“Perimeter?” Francesca asked.
“Team is checking.”
Matteo’s voice was lethal in its calm.
“No one checks outside until Leo is secured.”
They reached a paneled wall at the end of the corridor.
Matteo pressed his thumb to a hidden reader.
Nothing happened.
Again.
Nothing.
Francesca swore.
“System’s dead.”
“The safe room is electronic?” Grace asked.
“There is a mechanical release inside the linen closet.”
A sound came from behind them.
Not a footstep.
A soft squeak.
Rubber against wood.
Grace turned.
At the far end of the hall, a figure in a maintenance uniform moved through the shadows.
“Hey!” she shouted.
The figure ran.
Francesca went after him.
Matteo pulled Leo closer.
Grace saw something silver flash in the man’s hand.
A syringe.
Not a gun.
He was not here to shoot anyone.
He was here to take someone alive.
“Matteo!”
The man suddenly reversed direction.
He had not been fleeing.
He had been drawing Francesca away.
A second figure emerged from a side room directly behind Matteo.
Grace did the only thing she could.
She shoved a heavy console table sideways with her hip.
Pain exploded through her back.
The table crashed into the attacker’s knees.
He stumbled.
Matteo spun.
The next five seconds happened too fast for Grace to process cleanly.
Matteo put Leo down behind him.
The attacker lunged.
Matteo caught his wrist, twisted, and drove him into the wall hard enough to crack a framed photograph.
The syringe dropped.
Grace kicked it beneath the console.
The man swung with his other hand.
Matteo ducked and struck him once in the ribs.
The sound was ugly.
Grace had seen bar fights.
This was not a bar fight.
Matteo moved with frightening efficiency.
No wasted motion.
No anger on his face.
That scared her more than if he had been screaming.
The attacker managed to tear free and ran toward the stairs.
A guard intercepted him.
They disappeared around the corner in a crash of bodies.
“Grace?”
Leo’s voice.
She turned.
The boy stood frozen by the wall, eyes huge.
Grace went to him despite the pain.
“Hey. Look at me.”
His lower lip trembled.
“Was he going to hurt Papa?”
“No.”
It was a lie.
Leo knew it.
Grace lowered herself carefully until they were eye level.
“Your dad has a lot of people protecting him.”
“But you protected him.”
Grace looked past Leo.
Matteo was watching her.
Blood marked his lower lip.
He looked furious.
Not at the attacker.
At Grace.
“You could have torn your stitches.”
She stared at him.
“Your son was ten feet from a man with a syringe.”
“I had him.”
“And I had a table.”
“This is not funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You were told to stay behind Francesca.”
Grace stood slowly.
“Last time I checked, I was a guest, not an employee.”
“You are injured.”
“So?”
“So stop throwing yourself into danger every time someone I love is threatened!”
The words hit the hallway harder than the alarm had.
Matteo stopped.
Grace stopped.
Leo looked between them.
The red emergency lights flickered.
Matteo’s expression closed like a steel door.
He turned away.
“Get Leo downstairs.”
The power returned ten minutes later.
By then, one attacker had escaped through a service exit.
The second had vanished somewhere on the grounds after knocking a guard unconscious.
No one was captured.
That seemed impossible until Francesca explained the intruders had used valid staff access codes.
“Inside help,” Grace said.
Francesca nodded.
They gathered in the breakfast room because the library had become an evidence scene.
Rosa sat with Leo wrapped in a blanket, feeding him hot chocolate he was not drinking.
Matteo stood near the windows, talking quietly to Enzo.
Grace sat at the table while a nurse inspected her stitches.
“You pulled two,” the nurse said.
Matteo’s head turned instantly.
Grace glared at him.
“Do not say it.”
He said nothing.
That was somehow worse.
Francesca entered carrying a clear bag.
“We found this beneath the console table.”
Inside was the syringe.
“What is it?” Matteo asked.
“Ketamine and a sedative mix. Enough to put an adult down. Too much for Leo.”
Rosa crossed herself.
Grace’s stomach turned.
“They were going to abduct him.”
“Most likely,” Francesca said.
“Why now?” Grace asked. “Why the same day you recover Sofia’s recording?”
No one answered.
That was answer enough.
“They know what you found,” Grace said.
Matteo looked at Francesca.
“Who had access to the drive?”
“You. Me. Enzo. Two technicians.”
“And the technicians?”
“Both locked in the security office until we sort this out.”
Grace noticed Enzo’s expression.
“You think it’s someone else.”
He looked at her.
“I think secrets this old rarely belong to only one generation.”
Francesca placed a second bag on the table.
Inside was a cufflink.
Black enamel.
A silver letter D.
Matteo’s face darkened.
“It was caught in the attacker’s sleeve?”
“Found near the service stairs.”
Grace looked at the monogram.
“DeLuca?”
“Yes,” Matteo said.
“Anyone in your family could own that?”
His mouth tightened.
“Not that design.”
Enzo leaned against the counter.
“It was commissioned for the old council. Twelve pairs.”
Grace felt a headache forming.
“Old council?”
“The men who ran the family businesses before Matteo took control,” Enzo said.
“Legitimate businesses?”
Enzo’s silence answered.
Grace rubbed her temple.
“I keep forgetting I’m having conversations people usually have in witness protection.”
Rosa gave her a worried look.
Matteo ignored the comment.
“Who still has a pair?”
Enzo began naming men.
“Your father’s are in storage. Carlo’s were buried with him. Tomaso sold his collection after the indictment. Luca had one pair.”
Matteo went still.
“And Vincent.”
Enzo nodded.
Grace looked between them.
“Who is Vincent?”
Matteo’s eyes turned cold.
“My uncle.”
“The one Sofia mentioned? Her father’s generation?”
“No. My father’s younger brother.”
“Is he involved?”
“I do not know.”
“Is he alive?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Sicily.”
Enzo’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
Then his expression changed.
“What?” Matteo asked.
Enzo answered the call but did not speak.
He listened for three seconds.
Then hung up.
“Not Sicily.”
Matteo’s jaw hardened.
“What do you mean?”
“Vincent’s plane landed at Teterboro this afternoon.”
Grace looked toward the dark windows.
“He’s here?”
Enzo nodded.
“He entered the country four hours before the alarm.”
Leo’s hot chocolate spoon clinked against the cup.
No one moved.
Then Grace’s phone began to ring.
Every person in the room looked at it.
The phone was new, provided by Matteo’s people after hers had been damaged in the restaurant.
Only three people had the number.
Matteo.
Enzo.
Rosa.
The screen displayed UNKNOWN CALLER.
Matteo crossed the room.
“Do not answer.”
Grace picked it up.
“Grace.”
“Stop giving me orders.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
For a moment, nothing.
Then breathing.
A man’s voice.
“Gracie.”
Her blood went cold.
David.
Matteo saw her face.
His hand extended.
Grace shook her head.
“Where are you?” she demanded.
“I didn’t know the kid was going to be there.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
Grace put the call on speaker.
David’s breath caught.
“Oh, that’s smart. You got him listening?”
“You pulled the cord.”
“I was told to make a distraction.”
“You almost killed a child.”
“I didn’t know!”
“You always have an excuse.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“It became about you when you stole my ring.”
Silence.
Then David laughed once.
A broken, frightened sound.
“So they told you.”
“Who is they?”
“You’re in DeLuca’s house, aren’t you?”
Matteo’s face gave nothing away.
Grace said, “Answer me.”
David lowered his voice.
“Listen carefully. That ring was never worth four hundred and sixty dollars.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t over the phone.”
“Convenient.”
“Gracie, I stole a lot from you. I lied. I was a coward. You can hate me forever, but I am telling you the truth now.”
Grace closed her eyes.
She hated that a small piece of her could still recognize when David was truly scared.
“What truth?”
“The ring opens a box Luca Bianchi hid before he disappeared.”
Matteo stepped closer.
“Where?” Grace asked.
“I only know the first half.”
“What does that mean?”
“It needs two pieces. The ring is one.”
“And the other?”
David breathed.
“Sofia had it.”
Matteo’s control cracked.
“What did my wife have?”
David went silent.
“David,” Grace said.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible.
“A key.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know. But Vincent does.”
Grace stared at Matteo.
David continued.
“And if Vincent DeLuca is back in New York, you don’t have much time.”
“Why?”
“Because the distraction at Lumina wasn’t the real job.”
Grace’s heart stopped.
“What was?”
David swallowed loudly.
“To get Matteo to take you home.”
No one in the room breathed.
Grace’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.”
“Why would anyone want me here?”
David’s answer came fast.
“Because whatever Sofia hid is inside that house.”
A click.
The call ended.
Grace looked slowly around the breakfast room.
At Rosa.
At Enzo.
At Francesca.
At Matteo.
At the mansion built by generations of men who believed walls could protect secrets forever.
May you like
Then somewhere above them, from the second floor, came the unmistakable sound of glass breaking.
Someone was still inside the house.
