Papers were spread across the large mahogany desk, filled with names, locations, and connections—everything they had gathered on Eleanor Moreau.
Or rather, Angela Green. Maria Moretti. La Serpente.
The woman who had stolen their son.
Carmen sat at the opposite end of the desk, her arms crossed tightly, her expression unreadable.
But her anger?
It was visible. She hadn’t looked Marco in the eyes since they arrived. Hadn’t spoken unless necessary.
And every time Marco tried to bridge the growing distance between them, she only pulled further away.
Luca, sitting between them, could feel it too.
The silence was louder than words.
But right now?
They had bigger problems.
“Alright,” Luca sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We know she’s been planning this for years. But the question is—where would she take Matteo?”
Marco’s jaw clenched.
“She wouldn’t go far,” he muttered. “She’s smart. She knows we’re looking for her. She’ll go somewhere she feels untouchable.”
Carmen finally looked up, her voice cold. “Then we need to figure out where she feels safest.”
Marco met her gaze, but Carmen’s eyes were unreadable.
She was still furious. Marco knew he deserved it.
But he pushed the thought aside. “She has connections,” Luca said, flipping through the files. “She’s worked with powerful people before. Criminals. Corrupt politicians. The kind of people who could help her disappear without a trace.”
Marco’s fingers tightened into a fist.
“Then let’s find them.”
Reaching Out to Families
Hours passed as they dug through records, trying to find anyone who had been targeted by Ella before.
They found several cases—families who had lost their children, only to get them back years later, unrecognizable.
But when they reached out?
No one wanted to talk.
Carmen slammed her phone onto the table, frustration burning in her eyes.
“They keep hanging up,” she muttered. “It’s like they’re terrified.”
Luca sighed heavily, setting his phone down.
“That’s because they are,” he said. “Imagine losing your child and getting them back… but they’re a different person. A stranger. No one wants to relive that.”
Carmen ran a hand down her face, her breath shaky.
“Then how the hell are we supposed to find Matteo?” she whispered.
Marco watched her, his chest tightening.
She looked tired. Worn. Broken. And he had been the one to push her away when she was trying to protect their son.
He swallowed hard. “Carmen,” he said softly.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t even react. Marco exhaled sharply, leaning forward.
“I know you hate me right now,” he admitted.
Carmen’s jaw tightened. “Hate is a strong word,” she muttered, still not looking at him. “But I’m getting there.”
Luca cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.
“Maybe I should—”
“No,” Marco said firmly. “Stay.”
He turned back to Carmen, his voice low, sincere.
“I was wrong.”
Carmen finally met his gaze, her eyes flashing with something unreadable.
Marco swallowed.
“I should have believed you,” he said, his voice tight with guilt. “About Ella. About everything. But instead, I called you crazy. I humiliated you. I threw you out of our home.”
Carmen’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice sharp. “You did.”
Marco took a slow breath.
“And I was wrong.”
The words hung in the air, heavy between them. Luca stayed silent, watching the tension unfold. Carmen’s eyes shone with unspoken emotions.
Anger. Pain.
But also—
Relief.
“You didn’t just not believe me,” she said quietly. “You made me feel like I was losing my mind. You made me feel like I was nothing.”
Marco felt a sharp sting in his chest.
“I know,” he whispered. “And I will never forgive myself for it.”
Carmen let out a slow breath, looking away.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” she muttered. “But Matteo is all that matters right now.”
Marco nodded.
“Then let’s find him,” he said.