Chapter 2 - The House of SecretsSophie was whisked away to the Moretti estate—a fortress of glass and steel perched on the edge of Lake Michigan. For the next twenty-four hours, she was a guest, but the walls were iron-clad. Dominic Moretti was a man who didn't let secrets walk away, especially secrets that knew his own blood.
In the nursery, Sophie sat with the baby, whom the staff had tentatively called 'Angelo.' As the sun began to rise, she finally worked up the courage to examine the locket again. It wasn't a replica. She knew the tiny scratch on the back from when she had accidentally dropped it on a tile floor.
How had it survived?
She started to search the bassinet, turning over the expensive fabrics and looking into the lining. She found a small, hidden pocket sewn into the underside of the mattress. Inside was a scrap of paper, faded and yellowed—a hospital discharge summary.
It was Leo’s.
Sophie’s world tilted. Her son had died in that hospital. She had seen his body. She had touched his cold skin. But the documentation in her hand was dated four years ago, and then, inexplicably, stamped with a new date: three days ago.
Dominic entered the room quietly. He had changed out of his suit into a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal a sprawling tattoo of an eagle across his forearm.
"I had my people dig into your records, Sophie," he said. He didn't sound angry; he sounded exhausted. "Four years ago, you lost a child. The records show the burial was handled by the hospital's mortuary service. I tracked down the funeral director. He hasn't been in the state in three years."
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"What are you saying?" Sophie gasped, clutching the baby.
"I’m saying that people like us—people with power—sometimes become targets in ways we never imagined," Dominic said. "There are people who don't want us to have legacies. And there are people who trade in children."
