Luca’s hands shook as he held the note. Stay out of this, or you will disappear next.His instincts screamed at him—he had pushed too far. He turned, scanning the empty street, the shadows between the parked cars, the tree line in the distance.
Nothing. But he knew. Someone was out there. Someone was watching him. His pulse pounded as he pulled out his phone and dialed Marco’s number.
The line rang twice before Marco picked up. “Luca?” Marco’s voice was gruff, exhausted. Luca didn’t waste time.
“Watch the nanny,” he said, his tone sharp, urgent. There was a pause.
“What?” Marco sounded confused, irritated.
“I found something massive about Eleanor,” Luca continued, glancing around again, making sure he was alone. “But I won’t say it over the phone. Meet me first thing in the morning.”
Another silence.
Then—Marco sighed. “You have to be sure—”
“No,” Luca snapped. “This is real, Marco. I mean it. She’s dangerous.”
Marco exhaled sharply. “Fine,” he said finally. “Tomorrow morning. My office.”
Luca nodded to himself. “See you then.”
He hung up.
Then, gripping the note tightly, he slid into his car and drove away, his mind racing. He had one night to gather everything.
Tomorrow, he’d blow this whole thing wide open.
Carmen sat at the dining table, picking at her untouched food. She hadn’t slept. Not really. Her mind kept replaying everything—Matteo’s words, the drawings, the secrets, Ella’s strange phone call.
And worst of all—Marco’s refusal to see it. But tonight, he finally listened.
“I’ll start paying attention,” Marco had said, his voice low, tired. “I promise.”
A small relief. But not enough. Not when Matteo was still clinging to Ella. Not when Carmen felt like her son was slipping through her fingers. Across the room, Matteo sat on the floor, playing with his toy cars.
Ella was beside him, watching with her usual gentle smile.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” she cooed. “You’re doing such a good job.”
Carmen’s stomach twisted. Her own son wouldn’t sit with her anymore. Wouldn’t even eat unless Ella fed him. She felt like an outsider in her own home. Marco finally promised to start watching Ella. But what if it was already too late?
Marco sat in his office, fingers tapping impatiently against his desk.
The clock read 8:07 AM.
Luca was late. That wasn’t like him. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
Voicemail.
Marco frowned, hanging up. Maybe Luca was just running behind. Maybe he had overslept. But something felt wrong.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Then thirty. Then an hour.
Marco’s patience wore thin. He dialed again. Again—voicemail. A cold feeling settled in his gut.
Luca was never late.
And then he got a text from him, “Sorry boss, I need to gather more evidence. I’ll be gone for a few days.”