Chapter 3 - Shadows on the Perimeter
Two weeks passed.
The change inside the Rossi estate was nothing short of miraculous. Leo had gained three pounds, his skin was glowing, and his soft, gurgling laughs filled the second-floor nursery every morning.
Hannah had settled into her new suite, though she still acted timid around the estate’s opulence. She refused the designer clothes I ordered for her, preferring simple, comfortable cotton dresses, and spent almost every waking hour with Leo. She didn't treat him like a job; she loved him with the fierce, aching devotion of a woman who had been denied the chance to love her own child.
And I watched her. From the security monitors in my private office, I watched how she sang old lullabies to him, how she gently bathed him, and how her presence brought warmth back into a house that had been cold since Sophia died.
"Lorenzo, we have a situation," Dominic said, stepping into my office without knocking. He threw three surveillance photographs onto my desk.
The photos showed a sleek grey sedan parked near the perimeter gates of the estate, its tinted windows partially rolled down. A long zoom lens was visible, pointed directly at the nursery window where Hannah was standing with Leo.
"Who is it?" I asked, my blood running cold.
"It’s not the rival syndicates," Dominic reported, his expression dark. "It’s Marcus Miller."
I recognized the name instantly. Marcus Miller was Hannah’s abusive ex-boyfriend—a mid-level enforcer for a local loan shark firm, a violent piece of trash with three felony warrants currently being suppressed by corrupt local precinct officers.
"He’s been trailing her since she stopped showing up at her old apartment," Dominic continued. "He realized she didn't get fired—she got moved into the main house. Word on the street is he thinks she hit the lottery and he wants a cut of her new salary."
I stood up, pulling my brass knuckles from the top desk drawer. "Does he know she’s nursing Leo?"
"Not yet. He thinks she’s just an elevated nanny."
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"Keep it that way," I ordered, my voice dangerously low. "If Marcus Miller touches so much as a strand of her hair, don't bring him to the police, Dominic. Bring him to the boathouse."
Before Dominic could reply, a loud crash echoed from the main driveway downstairs, followed by the sharp, alarming sound of breaking glass and screaming.
