Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE CITY WATCHED
“Put my brother on the phone,” I demanded.
The man on the line laughed softly. “You should have kept your place in the kitchen.”
My hands were shaking so badly Luca took the phone—not away from me, but close enough that we could both hear. “Who is this?” he asked.
A pause. “Tell Richard Bellini the Moretti boy is finally paying attention.”
The line went dead.
Gabriel sent two officers from his security team to our building while Luca called Evelyn's contact in the Chicago police department. I stood beside the SUV, staring at the unanswered messages on my screen. Somewhere across the city, people were trying to force families out of their rooms while my brother might be trapped in ours.
“I can't go to the shelter,” I said. “Not until I know Ben's safe.”
“Then don't,” Luca answered. “You don't owe anyone a performance of courage.”
I looked at him, surprised. For once, the man who owned almost everything was not trying to decide for me. He called Mrs. Donovan again, then handed me the keys to a small guest car in the security fleet.
“Gabriel will take you home. I'll go to St. Catherine's with Evelyn and coordinate help for the residents. I'll call the moment I know anything.”
I wanted to argue that he needed Gabriel. Luca shook his head. “I have people there. You need someone you trust.”
We drove toward my neighborhood with every light feeling too slow. Gabriel kept one hand on his phone, receiving reports from the two officers already on-site. Ben's apartment door was closed. The hallway was empty. A neighbor had heard a thud but hadn't seen anyone leave.
When we reached the building, Gabriel went ahead. He returned with a nod. “Clear.”
I climbed the stairs two at a time.
The apartment looked untouched, except for a chair overturned near the kitchen table. Ben was sitting on the floor behind the couch. His hands were tied with a charging cable, and a strip of tape hung loose from his wrist.
I ran to him. “Ben!”
“I'm okay,” he said too quickly. “I got one of the knots loose. The guy left when someone knocked downstairs.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“He pushed me into the table. That's all.”
It wasn't all. His cheek was swelling, and he couldn't stop trembling. But he was breathing, talking, and holding onto me as though we were children again.
Gabriel checked the windows while I cut the remaining cable. Ben said the intruder wore a maintenance uniform and showed a copied apartment key. He demanded to know where June kept Rosa's papers. When Ben said he didn't know, the man searched the drawers and took an old family photo album.
“Why would he take pictures?” I asked.
“Maybe because your mother hid something inside one,” Gabriel said.
I called Mom, who was staying with a friend after our hurried departure. She answered immediately. When I told her what happened, she started crying.
“The blue album,” she said. “There was a receipt tucked behind Rosa's photograph.”
“What receipt?”
“The one proving the foundation paid for the shelter building with donated money. If Bellini claims the property is a private asset, that receipt proves he knows better.”
I looked at Gabriel. The intruder had taken an important piece of evidence, but not the only one. Evelyn already had the deed copy and Rosa's letter. I reminded myself of that while I helped Ben pack a bag.
Before we left the apartment, Ben caught my sleeve. 'You have to tell Mom I was scared,' he said. 'Don't make it sound like I handled everything.'
I hugged him again. 'Being scared wasn't a failure.'
He stared at the kitchen, at the overturned chair and the empty space where our family album had been. 'I used to think you were always brave because you weren't afraid,' he whispered. 'I didn't know you were afraid all the time.'
I smiled sadly. 'You and me both.'
We checked the windows together, packed his school papers, and took a photograph of the damaged furniture for the police report. Then he called Mom himself, refusing to let me soften the story for him. Listening to my little brother speak clearly through a shaky voice, I realized that protecting him didn't mean keeping him small.
At St. Catherine's, Luca found a different emergency. A city inspector had posted a temporary closure order after receiving a report of a gas smell. The utility company confirmed a damaged line near the back entrance, but the inspection team couldn't say whether the damage was accidental.
Celia's daughter, Ava, was still on the second floor because the elevator had been shut down. The fire department was bringing an evacuation chair. Mrs. Donovan had refused to leave until every resident was accounted for.
Luca called me from the sidewalk. I could hear sirens and people shouting in the background.
“Ben?” he asked.
“Safe. Shaken. Somebody came into the apartment and took a photo album.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You didn't do this.”
“No, but the people around me gave your family a reason to be targeted. I won't pretend that's nothing.”
I swallowed. “How's Ava?”
“They're bringing her down now. Her mother is with her.”
A moment later, I heard cheering. Luca said a firefighter had carried the girl out while another brought her chair. I cried from relief and exhaustion, and Ben sat beside me with his shoulder against mine.
Luca stayed on the call while the residents were loaded onto buses bound for temporary accommodations. He told me that Celia had insisted the group remain together. One hotel had accessible rooms; another offered meeting space so the children could keep their evening routine. Mrs. Donovan took charge of the list of medications and school contacts.
“She organized all that while the firefighters were still here?” I asked.
“She organized it faster than my staff could find a clipboard,” Luca said, and I heard admiration in his voice.
On the way, Ben asked whether we were going to move again. I told him I hoped not, but I couldn't promise. He looked out the window for a while, then said he'd started saving money from his weekend shifts at the electronics store. 'It's supposed to be for tuition,' he said. 'But if we need a deposit somewhere, we can use it.' I told him school still mattered. He answered that family mattered too. Neither of us won that argument. We simply held hands at the next traffic light and kept going.
When I finally reached the temporary hotel that night, I saw him standing in the lobby beside a table covered in bottled water. His sleeves were rolled up. He looked tired enough to sleep standing. He also looked relieved when he saw Ben and me walk through the doors.
“Ben,” he said, “I'm glad you're here.”
Ben looked him over. “You know, I always thought rich people had better nights than this.”
“Tonight has been educational.”
For the first time that day, Ben smiled.
Celia was seated by the window with Ava, whose wheelchair had been brought beside her. She waved me over. “Your boss arranged rooms, but Mrs. Donovan made sure we had a say in the assignments. Tell him that's how it should be done.”
“I will.”
“And tell him he doesn't get credit for doing what he ought to do.”
“I think he knows.”
After midnight, Evelyn arrived with news from court. A judge had granted a temporary restraining order preventing sale or demolition of the shelter property. The gas leak had forced an evacuation, but it did not authorize any redevelopment work.
Cheers broke out around the lobby. Someone hugged Mrs. Donovan. Luca sat down for the first time in hours, the tension leaving his shoulders.
Then Evelyn lowered her voice. “The order is temporary. Bellini's lawyers are claiming the charitable restriction was never properly recorded. We still need proof of the trust's intent and evidence the sale signature was forged.”
“I have Rosa's letter,” Luca said.
“The letter helps. But the bank records could decide the case.”
I remembered the album in the intruder's hands and felt sick.
Gabriel's phone buzzed. He read the message, frowned, then handed it to Evelyn. She looked at Luca.
“The police have located the maintenance worker who entered Natalie's apartment,” she said. “He says he was hired through an agency.”
“Which agency?” I asked.
She hesitated. “Mercer Executive Services.”
Luca went still.
“Grant Mercer,” he said.
I knew the name. Grant was Luca's chief of staff, the man who approved vendor invoices, arranged his travel, and handled his calendar. He had personally introduced Vanessa to the household after their engagement.
“He's worked for you for eight years,” I said.
“Exactly,” Luca replied.
Then Gabriel checked a second message and looked up in alarm.
“Boss. Grant left the mansion forty minutes ago. He took the backup server containing the electronic-signature logs.”
Luca stood. “Where is he now?”
May you like
Gabriel hesitated.
“According to the toll cameras,” he said, “he's on his way to the Bellini estate.”
