Chapter 2 - The Man Beneath My HouseThere are sentences that divide your life into before and after.
Your brother is alive.
That was one of them.
Roman looked at me.
He knew better than to speak.
My younger brother, Daniel Duca, had died eleven years earlier after an explosion at one of our family warehouses.
He had been twenty-six.
I had been twenty-nine.
The official report said the fire burned hot enough that identification required dental records.
I had never seen his face.
That fact suddenly mattered.
At the time, grief had swallowed details.
Now every detail came back.
The rushed funeral.
The sealed coffin.
My father insisting I not view the remains.
The family physician signing the identification paperwork.
I stepped into the hidden corridor.
Roman caught my arm.
“Boss.”
I looked at him.
“Let my men go first.”
He was right.
I hated that.
Two guards descended.
No gunfire.
No shouting.
Only one voice.
“Please.”
We followed.
The passage dropped twenty feet before opening into a hidden basement chamber beneath the neighboring property line.
A single bulb hung overhead.
There was a mattress.
Bottled water.
Medical supplies.
A portable toilet.
Chains attached to the far wall.
And a man.
He looked roughly forty.
Thin.
Bearded.
His wrists were raw.
Roman immediately searched him for weapons.
None.
The man stared at me.
“You look like him.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I hated him instantly for saying it.
“Who are you?”
He swallowed.
“Elias Ward.”
The name meant nothing.
“Why are you inside my house?”
“I’m not.”
Roman frowned.
Elias lifted his chained wrists.
“I’m under it.”
“Who put you here?”
His eyes went toward the ceiling.
“Your uncle.”
Everything inside me went cold.
Vincenzo Duca.
My father’s younger brother.
My mentor after my father died.
The man who currently controlled half our legitimate investment holdings while I handled the uglier side of the family business.
“Why?”
Elias laughed weakly.
“That depends how much truth you can handle.”
I stepped closer.
“Try me.”
He studied me.
Then said:
“Daniel discovered your uncle was stealing from your father.”
I did not react.
“Keep talking.”
“Not money.”
“What?”
“People.”
Roman’s expression sharpened.
Elias continued.
“Vincenzo used Duca shipping routes for undocumented labor. Men disappeared. Women disappeared. Anyone who threatened him disappeared.”
I had heard rumors years ago.
My father denied them.
I believed him.
Maybe I had believed what was convenient.
“Daniel found records,” Elias said. “He planned to expose everything.”
“And then he died.”
“No.”
My jaw tightened.
Elias looked directly at me.
“Then they made you think he died.”
I grabbed his shirt.
Roman said my name quietly.
I released him.
“Where is Daniel?”
“I don’t know.”
“You just said he’s alive.”
“He was alive three months ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he was here.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Here?”
“In this room.”
Elias pointed toward the wall.
“I was kept here with him.”
Roman searched the chamber.
There were two mattresses.
Two sets of restraints.
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“They moved him.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who?”
“Vincenzo’s men.”
I looked at Roman.
His face was grim.
Then something upstairs crashed.
We all froze.
Roman touched his earpiece.
No response from the guards at the study.
“Move.”
We climbed quickly.
The study was empty.
One guard lay unconscious near the doorway.
The other was gone.
I ran toward the kitchen.
“Mia!”
No answer.
I moved faster.
The kitchen lights were on.
The vacuum cord trailed through the hall.
A small pink hair clip lay near the back door.
Mia’s.
My pulse became ice.
Roman cursed.
Then from beneath the breakfast table came a tiny sound.
Lily crying.
I dropped to one knee.
The baby was there.
Wrapped safely in the rose-colored sling.
But Mia was gone.
A note had been placed beside her.
One sentence.
THE CHILD HEARD TOO MUCH.
For the first time in years, I felt something stronger than anger.
Fear.
May you like
Because six-year-old Mia Harper had found my family’s secret.
And someone had taken her for it.
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