Chapter 3 - THE YELLOW DOOR ON MAPLE STREET
The midnight air was biting cold as Luca’s black SUV tore through the deserted streets of Chicago’s west side, its tires hissing against the damp asphalt.
In the backseat, little Oliver sat curled up next to Emily, fast asleep with his head resting on her shoulder, his small fingers still tightly clutching his mother's worn leather baseball glove. The emotional exhaustion of the evening had finally overwhelmed him.
In the front passenger seat, Luca stared straight ahead through the windshield, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle twitched violently along his cheek. Every fiber of his being was coiled like a spring, ready to snap.
“Someone else found out yesterday,” Vanessa's words echoed in his mind.
In their world, knowing a secret about a Moretti family member wasn't gossip—it was leverage. And the only person ruthless enough, wealthy enough, and desperate enough to snatch a six-year-old child to cripple Luca Moretti was his chief rival: Viktor Vance, the ruthless enforcer and proxy for Richard Harrington’s syndicate.
"Boss," Matteo said from behind the steering wheel, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror. "We're two minutes out from Maple Street. But I'm picking up scanner chatter. A black sedan was spotted speeding away from the east district twenty minutes ago."
"Step on it," Luca ordered, his voice dangerously low.
Two minutes later, the SUV slid to a sharp halt in front of a modest, weathered two-story house nestled between two towering industrial warehouses. A faded yellow front door stood out starkly against the peeling white siding.
The porch light flickered weakly in the wind.
Luca shoved his door open before the vehicle had even come to a complete stop. He hit the porch in three long strides, skipping the steps entirely. He didn't bother knocking. With a single brutal kick of his heavy boot, the wooden front door splintered inward, crashing against the hallway wall with a deafening thud.
"Clear!" Matteo shouted, drawing his firearm as he rushed in right behind Luca, followed by three tactical guards.
The interior of the house was warm, smelling faintly of chamomile tea and children's watercolor paint. Toys were neatly stacked in a small plastic bin by the living room sofa. A television played softly in the corner, broadcasting a late-night cartoon to an empty room.
"Check the back!" Luca barked, his heart hammering against his ribs in a way it hadn't in ten years.
He strode quickly down the narrow hallway, pushing open a small bedroom door.
The room was painted a soft pastel pink. A child's twin bed sat neatly made with princess-themed sheets. On the nightstand rested a framed photograph of a young woman with kind eyes and dark hair—Caroline.
Luca froze. He reached out with a trembling hand and picked up the photograph.
Tucked behind the frame was a folded piece of heavy cardstock. With shaking fingers, he pulled it out and opened it.
It was a handwritten birthday card, decorated with crooked purple crayons and clumsy lettering.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMMY. I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK.
Beneath it, in Caroline’s familiar, elegant handwriting, was a reply:
“My sweet little Lucy. No matter what happens, your daddy will always find you.”
A heavy tear slipped down Luca's cheek, catching the dim lamplight before falling onto the wooden floor. Caroline had known. Even while dying, she had known about their daughter, hiding her away from the violent crossfire of the syndicate, trusting only one person to keep her safe: an old woman named Eleanor Price, who had lived quietly in this house for six years.
"Boss!" Matteo's voice echoed urgently from the kitchen in the back. "You need to see this!"
Luca dropped the card into his pocket and sprinted down the hall.
May you like
In the kitchen, the back door stood wide open, banging rhythmically against the exterior wall in the cold autumn wind. On the linoleum floor near the kitchen table sat an overturned teacup, dark liquid staining the white tiles.
And lying face down beside it was an elderly woman in a faded floral blouse.
