Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the LobbyThe next three weeks felt like living inside a fast-forward dream sequence.
The lower-level suite of the penthouse had been transformed into a gorgeous, sunlit nursery complete with a custom crib, educational toys, and a full-time professional nanny named Sarah whom Alessandro had personally vetted and hired. I no longer had to sneak around or hold my breath every time the private elevator chimed. Mia had her own space, and I had a real office, a secure salary, and a boss who treated me with a level of respect I had never experienced in my life.
Yet, despite the luxury and the safety, an unsettling feeling began to gnaw at the back of my mind.
It started on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
I was reviewing the incoming grocery delivery manifest in the main kitchen when my phone buzzed on the marble counter. An unknown number flashed across the screen. I ignored it, assuming it was a spam call. It buzzed again immediately.
Then a text message popped up:
“You think you won because Elena fell, don't you? Look behind you in the lobby when you leave tonight. We aren't done yet.”
My breath caught in my throat. I dropped the clipboard and rushed to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grand entrance of the Duca Tower far below. Through the gray sheets of rain, a figure stood beneath the marble overhang of the lobby entrance. A woman in a dark trench coat, her face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat, looking straight up toward the penthouse windows.
Even from twenty stories up, I recognized the silhouette.
Elena.
Before a cold wave of panic could fully paralyze me, the kitchen door swung open, and Alessandro walked in, loosening his tie as he headed straight for the espresso machine.
“Trouble?” he asked, noticing the pale expression on my face immediately.
He didn't miss a thing. That was the first thing I had learned about him, and right now, it was my only lifeline.
I turned my phone around and slid it across the marble counter toward him.
Alessandro glanced down at the screen. The relaxed, tired look on his face vanished in a fraction of a second. The air in the kitchen dropped twenty degrees.
“She’s still here,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “She texted me. She’s downstairs.”
Alessandro didn't shout. He didn't curse. He simply picked up his phone, dialed a direct extension with his thumb, and pressed it to his ear.
“Security,” he said, his voice cold enough to shatter glass. “This is Duca. Check the main lobby cameras immediately. Find the woman in the dark trench coat standing near the revolving doors. Detain her. Do not let her leave the premises until I come down.”
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He ended the call, tossed his phone onto the counter, and looked at me.
“Grab your coat,” Alessandro said, his eyes hard as flint. “Let’s go see what Elena thinks she has left to lose.”
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