The nursery grew so quiet that the hum of the electronic air purifiers sounded like a jet engine. I stared at the underside of Theo’s mattress, my chest tightening with a cold, metallic dread that I hadn't felt since my early days in the underworld.

I stared at the dead monitor, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger. For years, I had believed I was the sole survivor of my father's legacy, the lone wolf running the Moretti empire with cold, calculated precision. Now, I found myself cornered by a phantom council demanding a ledger I didn't even possess yet, using a little girl I had only just discovered was my sister as bait.

The door to my study swung open without a knock. Bruno strode in, his face grim, holding a heavy tactical tablet.

"Boss, we just intercepted a high-frequency satellite ping originating from the woods just outside our western perimeter," Bruno said, laying the tablet on my desk. "It’s a localized burst transmission. Someone is uploading our internal security blueprints to an external server in Zurich."

I looked down at the tablet. The tracking coordinates pointed directly to the domestic staff quarters—specifically, the room adjacent to Elena and Sophie's suite.

"Who has access to that wing?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.

"Only the inner staff," Bruno replied, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "And... Elena herself."

I stood up so fast my leather chair rolled backward and crashed against the oak bookshelves. "Elena? Impossible. She's been terrified out of her mind since the day the transmitters were found."

"Fear makes people do desperate things, boss," Bruno countered gently. "Dante’s people could have her family. They could be holding someone she loves hostage overseas, forcing her to feed them data."

"Let's find out," I said, drawing my Beretta and checking the chamber with a sharp click. "Get the tactical team. We're searching every inch of the staff quarters right now."

Within two minutes, six heavily armed security operatives flanked me as we marched down the grand hallway toward the domestic wing. The estate was dead silent except for the heavy thud of our tactical boots against the marble floor.

When we reached Elena’s door, I didn't bother knocking. I raised my boot and kicked the heavy wooden door inward with a resounding crash.

The room was empty.

The bed was neatly made, the wardrobe doors hanging slightly open, and a small suitcase sat on the floor, half-packed with cheap clothes. But Elena and Sophie were nowhere to be found.

On the bedside table sat a burner phone, its screen glowing brightly with a single new text message.