Chapter 3 - THE RED BACKPACK
Emma Delgado had not been kidnapped.
At least, not yet.
Hospital cameras showed her leaving the pediatric waiting area at 12:14 a.m. beside a woman wearing blue scrubs.
The woman held Emma’s hand.
Emma did not appear frightened.
“That means she knew her,” Marco said.
Alessandro stared at the screen.
“Or trusted the uniform.”
Marco enlarged the image.
The woman’s face was partially hidden by a surgical mask.
“Find her.”
“We’re running facial recognition.”
“Run faster.”
Sophia sat upright in her hospital bed despite the doctors’ objections.
“My daughter is gone!”
Alessandro entered.
Sophia immediately pointed at him.
“You promised she was safe!”
“I know.”
“Where is she?”
“We’re finding her.”
“No!”
Sophia ripped the oxygen tube from her face.
“I’m finding her.”
A nurse rushed forward.
Alessandro stopped her gently.
Then crouched beside Sophia.
“Listen to me.”
Her eyes burned with fury.
“My daughter trusted you.”
“I know.”
“If anything happens—”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
Alessandro paused.
She was right.
So he changed the promise.
“I will not stop until Emma is back in this room.”
Sophia’s anger collapsed into tears.
Alessandro stood.
“One question.”
“What?”
“Where is the ledger?”
Sophia froze.
That reaction confirmed everything.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Where is it?”
Sophia looked away.
“Why?”
“Because whoever took Emma may believe she has it.”
Sophia’s face drained of color.
“Oh, God.”
“Where?”
“I found it two years ago.”
“Where?”
“In the basement archive at your mother’s old estate.”
Sophia explained that Isabella had sent several employees to clean storage rooms before the property was sold.
Inside a locked cabinet whose key had accidentally been left behind, Sophia found handwritten books containing employee names, wages, deductions, addresses, debts, and disturbing personal notes.
Pregnant.
Divorced.
No family nearby.
Needs immigration attorney.
Son arrested.
Mortgage overdue.
The Moretti family had cataloged vulnerability.
“I photographed pages,” Sophia whispered.
“Why?”
“Because my name was there.”
She had been listed before she even began working at Alessandro’s mansion.
That was impossible.
“Who hired you?”
“Rosa.”
Alessandro frowned.
Rosa Bellini had managed the Moretti household for twenty-six years.
She had treated Alessandro like family.
“What exactly did your entry say?”
Sophia closed her eyes.
“Delgado, Sophia. Widow. One child. No nearby relatives. Financially vulnerable. Recommended.”
Recommended.
Not hired.
Selected.
Alessandro’s stomach turned.
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the ledger?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
Sophia looked toward Emma’s empty chair.
“In Emma’s backpack.”
Alessandro stared at her.
“You put evidence like that in a child’s backpack?”
“No. I put the memory card containing the photographs inside the lining. I thought nobody would search a kindergarten bag.”
“Where’s the backpack?”
“At home.”
Marco appeared in the doorway.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the nurse.”
“Who is she?”
“She isn’t a nurse.”
Marco showed him a photograph.
Alessandro recognized the woman instantly.
Rosa Bellini.
The woman who had served his family for more than two decades.
The woman who had given Emma hot chocolate hours earlier.
Sophia whispered:
“No.”
Alessandro called Rosa.
She answered on the second ring.
“Alessandro.”
“Where is Emma?”
“Safe.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Put her on.”
A rustle.
Then:
“Mr. Moretti?”
Emma.
Alessandro exhaled.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Miss Rosa bought me pancakes.”
In the background Rosa said something.
Emma continued:
“She said Mom asked her to take me somewhere safe.”
Alessandro looked at Sophia.
Sophia shook her head violently.
“Emma, listen carefully. I need to speak to Rosa.”
“Okay.”
Rosa returned.
“You frightened her.”
“You removed a child from a hospital.”
“I saved her.”
“From whom?”
A pause.
“Your family.”
Alessandro looked at Marco.
“Where are you?”
“You know I won’t tell you.”
“Then tell me why.”
Rosa’s voice became quiet.
“Because Isabella knows Sophia found the ledger.”
“My mother claims she doesn’t know where it is.”
“Your mother lies beautifully.”
“You knew about the system?”
“I helped build it.”
The confession hit him harder than expected.
“Why?”
“Because twenty-six years ago I was Sophia.”
Alessandro said nothing.
Rosa continued.
“Your father recruited desperate employees. He offered loans, housing, legal assistance. Then he created debts they could never repay.”
“And you helped him?”
“At first because I was afraid.”
“And later?”
Silence.
“Later because fear becomes habit.”
“Where is Emma?”
“Getting syrup everywhere.”
Despite everything, Alessandro almost laughed.
“Bring her back.”
“Not yet.”
“Rosa.”
“Go to Sophia’s apartment.”
“Why?”
“Find the backpack before Matteo does.”
The call ended.
Twenty minutes later Alessandro and Marco entered Sophia’s small Queens apartment.
The front door had already been forced open.
Drawers were overturned.
Mattress slashed.
Kitchen cabinets emptied.
Someone had searched everything.
Emma’s pink school backpack was gone.
Marco examined the window.
“We’re late.”
Alessandro noticed something on the refrigerator.
A child’s drawing.
Emma standing beside Sophia beneath a yellow sun.
Next to it was another picture.
A large mansion.
A black-haired man.
Alessandro.
Emma had apparently drawn him after meeting him.
Beneath his stick-figure body she had written:
MOM’S BOSS.
Alessandro stared at it.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice said:
“You want the girl alive?”
Alessandro’s blood turned cold.
“You don’t have her.”
“No.”
The caller laughed.
“But Rosa won’t keep her forever.”
“What do you want?”
“The memory card.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Then find it.”
The line disconnected.
Marco looked at him.
“Whoever that was thinks Rosa has Emma and Sophia has the evidence.”
“No.”
Alessandro stared at the destroyed apartment.
“They’re panicking.”
“Why?”
“Because the ledger contains something worse than stolen wages.”
Marco frowned.
“What?”
Alessandro pointed toward the ripped mattress.
“They weren’t searching like accountants.”
He walked into Emma’s bedroom.
Her closet had been emptied.
Even old photographs were scattered across the floor.
One photograph caught his attention.
Sophia, younger, standing beside her late husband, Miguel.
Behind them stood a man Alessandro knew.
His father.
Vittorio Moretti.
Alessandro picked up the photograph.
Written on the back were four words.
MIGUEL - KEEP HIM QUIET.
Marco read it.
Neither man spoke.
Sophia had always said her husband died in a construction accident seven years earlier.
But Vittorio Moretti had supposedly never known Miguel Delgado.
Alessandro turned the photograph over again.
Suddenly the stolen wages seemed almost insignificant.
“What if Sophia wasn’t selected because she was vulnerable?” Marco asked.
Alessandro looked at him.
“What if she was selected because of her husband?”
Alessandro’s phone buzzed.
A message from Rosa.
One address.
May you like
And beneath it:
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY MIGUEL REALLY DIED.
