Chapter 1 - THE BABY IN THE TRASH
|
“Sir, I found your son in the trash bin by the kitchen.”
The words came from an eight-year-old girl standing barefoot on the marble floor of the Moretti mansion.
Rocco Moretti, the most feared mafia boss in Chicago, slowly lowered the glass of whiskey in his hand.
“What did you just say?”
Sophia Bellini clutched a newborn baby against her chest. His tiny face was red from crying, and his fingers curled desperately around the edge of an expensive cream-colored blanket.
“Your son, sir. I found him behind the kitchen. Someone put him inside the trash area.”
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then Rocco stood.
At forty-eight, he had built an empire by recognizing danger before other men knew it existed. He had survived assassination attempts, betrayed business partners, and watched enemies beg for mercy. Yet nothing in his life had prepared him for the sight of a newborn lying in the arms of his housekeeper’s daughter.
“Who left my son in the trash?”
His voice cut through the dining room like a blade.
Around the long table, three lawyers exchanged nervous glances. His consigliere, Dominic Russo, immediately signaled the guards to secure the exits.
Sophia's mother, Elena Bellini, rushed forward.
“Sophia! What have you done? Give the baby to Mr. Moretti.”
Sophia shook her head.
“He's cold, Mommy.”
That answer silenced Elena.
Rocco approached slowly. His black suit fitted him perfectly, and the gold watch inherited from his father glinted beneath the chandelier. He looked at the infant first, then at the small hospital bracelet around the child's wrist.
St. Helena Private Hospital.
The same hospital where Rocco's first son had been born.
His face became dangerously still.
Valentina Moretti entered from the adjoining hallway wearing an elegant silk robe. At thirty-nine, Rocco's wife was famous for her beauty, charitable donations, and ability to make every room feel as though it belonged to her.
She surveyed the scene without appearing surprised.
“Rocco, darling, what is happening?”
“Sophia says this is my son.”
Valentina gave a delicate laugh.
“She's eight years old. Children misunderstand things. Perhaps she found someone else's baby outside.”
Sophia looked directly at her.
“No, ma'am. He was inside your house.”
Valentina's smile tightened.
Rocco noticed something else. His wife had not looked at the baby's face once.
Her eyes were fixed on the bracelet.
“Why are you looking at that?” Sophia asked.
For a fraction of a second, Valentina's composure shattered.
Then she smiled again.
“Because I'm concerned about the child, sweetheart.”
Sophia hugged the baby closer.
“You don't look concerned.”
Dominic coughed to hide his reaction. One of the lawyers suddenly became fascinated by his paperwork.
Rocco extended his hand.
“Let me see the bracelet.”
Sophia carefully turned the infant's wrist toward him.
Beneath the faded hospital symbol was a number partially obscured by dirt. Rocco rubbed it with his thumb until the engraved digits became visible.
His breathing stopped.
04-17-26.
The date of his first son's death had been recorded on the family documents as April 17, 2026.
But the bracelet carried something else beneath the date: a second identification number, one Rocco recognized from a confidential medical file.
A file he had personally ordered sealed.
“Where did you find him?” he asked again.
“Behind the kitchen, sir. Near the outside trash bins. I heard him crying.”
“Who else was there?”
“No one. But I saw a woman walking away.”
Valentina folded her arms.
“Rocco, this is becoming ridiculous.”
He lifted his gaze toward his wife.
“You knew the hospital.”
“Of course I knew it. Our family uses the best doctors in Chicago.”
“Then you'll have no problem explaining why my dead son's identification number is attached to this child.”
For the first time that evening, Valentina had no immediate answer.
Rocco turned to Dominic.
“Lock down the property. Nobody leaves until I know how this baby got here.”
Sophia looked down at the infant, whose crying had finally softened into exhausted whimpers.
“Please don't let them take him away,” she whispered.
Rocco looked at the little girl.
“Who are you afraid of?”
Sophia glanced toward Valentina.
Then she leaned close enough for only Rocco to hear.
May you like
“The woman who left him there might still be inside your house.”
And somewhere upstairs, behind a locked bedroom door, a phone began ringing.
