Chapter 4 - THE VILLA IN THE HILLS
The air in the SUV shifted, growing dangerously cold.
“Give that to me,” I said, snatching the rabbit from Julian’s hands. I felt the belly of the stuffed animal. Right where the cotton stuffing should have been soft, there was a distinct, hard rectangle.
My breath caught. Richard.
Two days before I left, Richard had offered to mend a tear in Maya’s rabbit. I had thought it was a rare moment of kindness.
“I don’t know what it is,” I whispered, looking up at Julian. “I swear to you, I didn’t put it there.”
Julian stared at me for a long moment, evaluating my panic. Finally, he nodded to Marcus in the front seat. The SUV began to climb into the lush, cypress-lined hills of Frascati, just outside Rome.
The villa was surrounded by ten-foot stone walls and wrought-iron gates that swung open immediately as we approached. There were men in dark suits walking the perimeter. This wasn’t just wealth; this was a fortress.
“We’ll look at the toy inside,” Julian said as the car parked in a sprawling gravel courtyard.
For the next three days, life at the villa was a surreal, luxurious dream. Julian provided us with a massive suite overlooking olive groves. Maya laughed for the first time in months, splashing in the sunken courtyard fountain while Marcus stood nearby, surprisingly gentle as he watched her.
I fell into a rhythm with Leo. I fed him, rocked him, and helped Julian learn how to soothe the baby’s colic. During those quiet, late-night hours in the nursery, Julian’s defenses lowered.
“His mother,” I asked softly one evening, rocking Leo while Julian leaned against the doorway. “Is she…”
“Dead?” Julian finished quietly. “No. She’s alive. Her name is Elena. She walked out three days after Leo was born. Left a note on the kitchen counter saying she didn’t want a child, took a settlement, and vanished.”
I looked down at the beautiful, sleeping baby. “How could anyone leave him?”
“Because people are selfish, Sarah,” Julian said, his eyes locking onto mine. “But I won’t let anyone hurt him.”
It was an answer, but it opened a terrifying new question. If his ex-wife had taken a settlement and left, why the bodyguards? Why the fortress?
The next afternoon, the illusion of safety shattered.
I was in the garden with Maya. She was drawing with chalk on the stone patio. I stepped inside the kitchen for exactly two minutes to grab a glass of water.
When I came back out, Maya was standing by the wrought-iron fence. A man was standing on the other side, speaking to her through the bars.
He was holding a photograph through the iron slats.
“Maya!” I screamed, dropping the glass. It shattered on the stone.
Marcus was there before the glass stopped moving, sprinting across the lawn. The man at the fence bolted into the olive grove. Marcus didn't pursue; his priority was Maya. He scooped her up and brought her to me.
I fell to my knees, burying my face in her neck, sobbing in terror.
“Look, Mommy,” Maya said innocently, holding up the object the man had given her.
I took it with trembling hands. It was a polaroid photograph.
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It was a picture of me, sleeping on the plane. Taken from a few rows back.
Written on the bottom in thick black marker were two words: FOUND YOU.
