Chapter 4 - The Lockdown
Within ten minutes, the Bolaro mansion transformed from a luxurious suburban fortress into an impenetrable holding cell.
Heavy iron security gates slammed shut across the perimeter driveways. Armed men in dark suits took up positions at every exit, hallway intersection, and stairwell. Inside the main drawing room, all twelve members of the household staff—along with Dr. Crane—were gathered under tight guard.
Maya stood quietly near the doorway of the nursery, holding little Nico, who had finally drifted into an exhausted, natural sleep now that the poisoned formula had been flushed from his system and replaced with sterile saline and glucose. The transformation was remarkable; the frantic, unnatural flush on his cheeks had faded, and his breathing was slow and steady.
Lorenzo walked into the nursery, closing the heavy oak door softly behind him. He looked exhausted. The hard lines of his face seemed deeper, his broad shoulders slightly slumped under the crushing realization that the enemy hadn't broken through his gates—they had been sitting at his dining table.
"He's sleeping," Maya murmured softly, not looking up from the baby. "Truly sleeping. Not the semi-conscious stupor the sedative put him in. His vitals are stabilizing."
Lorenzo walked slowly to the side of the crib, looking down at his son’s peaceful face. For a long moment, the ruthless underworld boss vanished, leaving only a father staring at a miracle he had almost lost.
"Thank you, Nurse Ellis," Lorenzo said quietly, the words sounding foreign and difficult in his mouth, as if gratitude was a language he rarely spoke. "You saved his life. If you hadn't looked closer..." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
"I just did my job, Mr. Bolaro," Maya replied, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand. "Though, if you want to keep him safe, we need to talk about how this happened."
"Marcus is running background checks on every single person in this house as we speak," Lorenzo said, his voice hardening again, the dark steel returning to his eyes. "Financial audits, phone logs, recent visitors. Whoever is doing this made a mistake. They thought they were dealing with a helpless baby and a desperate father. They forgot that I own the ground they walk on."
"It's not enough to check their bank accounts," Maya cautioned, looking up at him. "People like this—people who can smile in your face while poisoning an infant every night—don't leave a paper trail of blood money in checking accounts. They use proxies, encrypted messaging apps, or cash drops. If you just interrogate them standard-style, they’ll deny it, lawyers will get involved, and the real culprit might slip away or destroy the rest of the evidence."
May you like
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes, studying her with a new level of intense respect. "You have a mind like a chess player, Nurse Ellis. What’s your suggestion?"
"We don't interrogate them yet," Maya said, a determined glint appearing in her dark eyes. "We let them think they're safe. We let the trap close slowly. Someone in that room downstairs is sweating right now because they realize the bottle was found. If we watch who panics first, we won't have to guess who did it."
