Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY GRAVE
At 5:17 that morning, Lorenzo Rossi stood inside a private mausoleum and stared into his wife's empty coffin.
He had seen men disappear before.
He had ordered some of those disappearances.
But this was different.
Sophia's coffin had been sealed two months earlier.
Now the velvet lining was torn.
The body was gone.
Mateo stood beside him.
"No signs of forced entry on the main gate."
"Inside job."
"Likely."
Lorenzo touched the edge of the coffin.
His hand trembled once.
Then stopped.
Hunter remained outside with Leo and two guards.
She hadn't wanted to come.
Lorenzo hadn't wanted her there either.
But after the security operator was murdered inside the estate, he trusted distance even less than proximity.
Dr. Gallagher had objected to moving Leo.
Lorenzo ignored him.
A bulletproof SUV waited twenty feet from the mausoleum door with medical equipment, a nurse, oxygen, and enough armed security to invade a small country.
Leo slept against Hunter.
The strange intimacy of it disturbed her.
Three weeks earlier she had buried Grace.
Now she was holding another mother's child outside another mother's opened grave.
"Mr. Rossi?"
Lorenzo turned.
A groundskeeper stood near the entrance.
Old man.
Seventy, maybe older.
Mateo had already questioned him twice.
"I remembered something."
"What?"
"The night Mrs. Rossi was buried."
Lorenzo waited.
"There was another vehicle after everyone left."
Mateo frowned.
"You never reported that."
"I thought it belonged to family."
"What vehicle?"
"Black ambulance."
Lorenzo looked at Mateo.
"Ambulance?"
"Medical transport. No markings."
"Who was inside?"
"I didn't see."
"When?"
"Maybe two hours after the funeral."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
"Did anyone enter the mausoleum?"
"I heard the gate."
"Why didn't you check?"
The groundskeeper looked frightened.
"Your sister told me it was authorized."
Isabella.
Again.
Lorenzo returned to the estate before sunrise.
Isabella had been confined to a guest room under guard.
She was sitting calmly when he entered.
"You opened Sophia's coffin."
Isabella looked up.
"No."
"A groundskeeper saw your medical transport."
"Then your groundskeeper is lying."
"He has worked for our family for thirty-two years."
"And you've known me thirty-eight."
"Which should make this easier."
Pain flashed across her face.
"So that's it? A frightened old man says my name and suddenly I'm the enemy?"
Lorenzo placed Sophia's necklace on the table.
"Her body is gone."
Isabella stared at it.
Lorenzo watched every movement in her face.
For the first time, he saw genuine surprise.
"What?"
"You didn't know."
She looked at him.
"No."
He believed her.
That frightened him more.
"Then what were you hiding?"
"I'm not hiding anything."
Lorenzo pulled out the vial recovered from her purse.
Gallagher's preliminary test had found digoxin.
"Explain this."
Isabella's shoulders dropped.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, "It was for me."
Lorenzo frowned.
"What?"
"I have atrial fibrillation."
He stared.
"No, you don't."
"I was diagnosed six months ago."
"Why wouldn't you tell me?"
"Because you had enough."
Her eyes filled.
"Sophia was pregnant. The business was unstable. Marco DeMarco was threatening divorce. And you were fighting half of New York."
Lorenzo sat across from her.
"The concentration is too high."
"I know."
"Gallagher says someone could use it to poison Leo."
"I didn't."
"Who knew you had it?"
"My doctor. Marco."
Her husband.
Marco DeMarco controlled several Rossi shipping companies.
And had been fighting quietly with Lorenzo over money for almost a year.
Lorenzo leaned back.
"Where is Marco?"
Isabella looked away.
"Milan."
"No."
"That's what he told me."
"When did he leave?"
"The morning after Sophia died."
Lorenzo stood.
Mateo entered seconds later.
"I need everything on Marco DeMarco."
Mateo nodded.
"Already started."
"And Isabella stays."
Isabella rose.
"You still think I did this?"
"I think someone used you."
Her anger disappeared.
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're safer here."
Downstairs, Hunter was feeding Leo when one of the older maids entered.
Her name was Teresa.
Sixty years old.
She had served the Rossi family since Lorenzo was a teenager.
Teresa looked at Hunter gently.
"You should sleep."
"I can't."
"The baby will."
Hunter smiled sadly.
"Babies sleep. Mothers don't."
Teresa's face softened.
"You had one."
Hunter looked up.
"How did you know?"
"A woman recognizes another woman carrying empty arms."
Hunter nearly cried.
Instead she looked toward Leo.
"Her name was Grace."
Teresa sat beside her.
"What happened?"
Hunter swallowed.
"Hospital said respiratory failure."
"Hospital?"
"St. Catherine's."
Teresa froze.
Hunter noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No."
Hunter stared.
"You recognized it."
Teresa stood.
"I shouldn't have said anything."
"Teresa."
The older woman moved toward the door.
Hunter blocked her.
"My daughter died there."
Teresa lowered her voice.
"St. Catherine's was where Mrs. Rossi was first taken after the explosion."
Hunter's heart began pounding.
"I thought Sophia died at Manhattan Memorial."
"She was transferred."
"Why?"
Teresa looked frightened.
"I don't know."
Hunter thought about her own hospital stay.
Grace had been born unexpectedly at thirty-five weeks.
Healthy enough to cry.
Healthy enough for Hunter to hold her.
Then nurses had taken Grace away for routine monitoring.
Two hours later, a doctor said she had developed respiratory distress.
By morning, Grace was dead.
Hunter had never been allowed to see the body again.
The hospital claimed infection-control rules.
At the time, grief had crushed her ability to question anything.
Now something cold moved through her.
"When exactly was Sophia Rossi brought to St. Catherine's?"
Teresa gave her the date.
Hunter stopped breathing.
It was the same night Grace was born.
Hunter's hands began shaking.
Leo stirred.
Teresa whispered, "What is it?"
"My daughter."
"What about her?"
Hunter's voice barely worked.
"She was born at St. Catherine's that same night."
Before Teresa could answer, Lorenzo entered.
Hunter looked at him.
"We need to talk."
He saw her expression.
"What happened?"
She told him.
Every detail.
Grace's birth.
The sudden respiratory crisis.
The refusal to let Hunter see her afterward.
The timing.
Lorenzo listened without interruption.
Then he called Gallagher.
"Can hospitals make identification mistakes with newborns?"
Gallagher frowned.
"Possible, but rare."
"Could they deliberately switch infants?"
The doctor stared at him.
"What are you asking?"
Lorenzo looked at Leo.
Then at Hunter.
"Run a DNA test."
Hunter's face went white.
"Between who?"
"You and Leo."
The room became completely silent.
Hunter almost laughed.
"That's impossible."
"Probably."
"Leo is Sophia's son."
"I watched surgeons deliver him."
"You said you weren't there. You were outside."
Lorenzo froze.
She was right.
The explosion had left Lorenzo injured.
Doctors told him Sophia was dying.
A surgeon emerged twenty minutes later carrying a premature infant.
Lorenzo had never questioned whose child it was.
Why would he?
Gallagher collected Hunter's sample.
Then Leo's.
The test was rushed through Lorenzo's private laboratory.
Three hours later, Gallagher walked into Lorenzo's office holding a sealed report.
He looked as though he had seen a ghost.
Hunter stood beside Lorenzo.
Neither spoke.
Gallagher placed the report on the desk.
Lorenzo opened it.
Read once.
Then again.
Hunter watched his face.
"What does it say?"
He couldn't answer.
She snatched the paper.
Her eyes moved down the page.
Probability of maternity:
99.997 percent.
Hunter dropped the report.
"No."
She backed away.
"No."
Leo began crying upstairs.
Hunter covered her mouth.
Lorenzo stared at the laboratory result.
The baby he had spent two months believing was his son belonged to Hunter.
Which left only one impossible question.
May you like
If Leo was Hunter's child—
where was Lorenzo's real son?
