LOGINDrisanaI didn’t know how long I’d been sitting on the nursery floor. Minutes. Maybe an hour. Time had stopped making sense.My back rested against the side of Luca’s crib, my knees drawn toward my chest. The room was still filled with all the things that belonged to him.His clothes. His toys. The little stuffed rabbit. The blanket. Everything was exactly where it had been—everything except him.I couldn’t bring myself to leave. There was nothing left to protect. Nothing left to check. And still, I couldn’t make myself move.My fingers kept finding the torn piece of blue fabric I’d pulled from the window latch. I rubbed it between my fingertips over and over, as though the texture could tell me where my son was and, if I held it tightly enough, I could somehow hold onto him.The moment I closed my eyes, Luca’s face appeared immediately. His sleepy little expressions. The way his mouth opened slightly when he slept. The tiny crease that appeared between his brows whenever he was hung
ArmaniBy the time the sun began thinking about rising, my house no longer looked like a home.It looked like a command center. My study had been stripped of everything unnecessary. The maps that usually hung in the adjoining office were spread across my desk. Laptops covered the leather surface. Phones were charging from every available outlet. Security feeds occupied three monitors at once.A dozen men stood around the room. Marcus was in the center of it. Nobody spoke unless they had something useful to say. I stood at the head of the desk with my sleeves rolled to my forearms, staring at the clock.4:17 a.m.Luca had been gone for hours.Hours.And I had nothing. No ransom demand. No message. No photograph. No claim.Nothing.“Again.”Marcus looked up.“We’ve already run it.”“I don’t care. Run it again.”He didn’t argue. The search restarted. Every known kidnapping contact. Every intermediary. Every criminal organization that had ever done business in Chicago. Every man who had
DrisanaI woke up before my alarm.I didn’t know why.My eyes opened slowly to the darkness of the bedroom, my body still heavy with sleep. Armani’s arm was wrapped around my waist, his breathing steady against the back of my neck.For a few seconds, I just lay there. Then I noticed what the baby monitor was missing. I turned toward the nightstand. Nothing. My sleepy mind took a moment to remember why. We hadn’t brought it into the bedroom tonight. For the first time in months, we had decided we didn’t need it.I smiled faintly.He was fine. Probably sleeping. I carefully slipped out of Armani’s arm and sat up. My feet touched the cold floor. I glanced back at him. He didn’t stir. He was deep into his sleep, dreaming about whatever. I left the room quietly. The hallway was dark and quiet. Too quiet. I walked toward the nursery, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The door was slightly open.I frowned. I was almost certain we’d closed it. I pushed it wider.“Elena?”No answer.I steppe
DrisanaThe new night nanny arrived just before dinner.Her name was Elena, and I had met her several times before tonight.She had been working with us for weeks, mostly during the day, learning the baby’s routine and getting used to the house. She knew when he usually slept, how he liked to be held, which bottle he preferred, and the exact face he made before he started crying.Tonight was her first overnight shift alone. I stood in the nursery doorway while she checked the baby’s bag for the third time.“You have everything?” I asked.She smiled. “Yes, Mrs Rossi.”“Extra clothes?”“Yes.”“Bottles?”“Prepared.”“Diapers?”“More than enough.”I nodded. She glanced at me.“You can go downstairs and eat your dinner.”I laughed softly.“I know.”“You’re allowed to leave him with me.”“I know that too.”She smiled knowingly.I looked at my son sleeping peacefully in his crib. It still felt strange leaving him with someone else. Not because I didn’t trust Elena.I did.She had been carefu
ArmaniSaturday mornings used to mean meetings.Calls. Reports. Men waiting outside my office with problems that couldn’t wait until Monday.This morning, there was none of that. No phone vibrating on the table or urgent messages from the company or anyone waiting for me to make a decision that could change someone’s life.Just sunlight spilling across the backyard and my son lying on a blanket in the grass. I sat beside him, one knee raised, watching his tiny hands move aimlessly above his head.Drisana was a few feet away, trying to keep him entertained with a ridiculous stuffed rabbit Marcus had given him.“You know he can’t even see that properly yet,” I said.“He can see it.”“He’s just three months old.”“He knows.”I looked at her. She looked completely serious. I smiled.“You’ve decided he’s a genius.”“Of course he is.”“He drooled on himself five minutes ago.”“That doesn’t mean anything.”“It means he’s your son.”She gasped. I laughed. She threw a small cushion at me. I ca
DrisanaI found the emails by accident.Or maybe I was looking for them without admitting it.I sat at the desk in the corner of our bedroom, scrolling through an account I hadn’t opened in almost a year. The password had worked on the third attempt. I had half expected the account to be gone.It wasn’t. Neither was the life attached to it. There were hundreds of unread messages. Clients asking about projects that had never been completed. Suppliers following up on payments. Former employees asking whether the company was still operating. A few personal messages from people I hadn’t spoken to since before everything fell apart.I stopped scrolling. One email was from a woman I’d worked with for years.Drisana, I don’t know if you’ll ever see this, but I hope you’re okay.My throat tightened. I closed the email before I could read further. For months, I had convinced myself that losing my business was one of the smaller things I’d lost.My freedom mattered more. My safety mattered mo
ARMANI “Will you be my boyfriend?” I stared at her. If I said that didn’t catch me off guard I’d be lying. It was so sudden. There she goes again. Amusing me without doing too much. She stared back with her chin up like whatever she had just asked was completely normal. The courage of this w
DRISANA Carter was calling again. I watched his name light up my screen and let it go dark without touching it. Seventeen missed calls since last night. I had lain in the dark with my phone face up on the pillow, staring at that unanswered text until the light outside my window changed color
ARMANI *Who are you?* Eight months and she picks tonight to ask. Not a random Tuesday. Not after one of those late conversations where something almost real slipped through before one of us pulled it back. Tonight. When her fiancé had brutally thrust inside her best friend in doggy style and h
DRISANA The elevator was taking too long. I shifted my weight and checked my phone again, still nothing from Carter. No be there soon, no running late, no anything. Just two blue ticks that told me he had read both texts and decided I wasn’t worth a reply. It was Sloane who convinced me to com







