No Nanny in Chicago Could Survive 48 Hours With the Mafia Boss’s Terrifying Triplets

Victor left Chicago before sunrise.

He took Owen, two trusted investigators, and a security team to Indiana, where the last known address of Lily's foster family had been recorded. I wanted to accompany them, but Victor refused.

“You stay with the boys.”

“They need their sister.”

“They need you alive.”

I stared at him.

“You cannot protect everyone by keeping them in separate rooms.”

His expression softened slightly.

“Amelia, if someone has been following this investigation, they may try to use you to reach me. I won't risk it.”

“I've already been dragged into this.”

“Which is precisely why I'm asking you to remain here.”

I hated that he was right.

Before he left, Victor handed me a small phone.

“It has a direct line to Owen. If anything happens, you call him.”

“What counts as anything?”

“Anything that makes you feel unsafe.”

I slipped the phone into my pocket.

“And Victor?”

He paused.

“Bring Lily home.”

He nodded.

“I will.”

For most of the day, the townhouse remained quiet. The boys ate breakfast, watched cartoons, and helped me arrange their toys in the playroom.

Matteo asked whether his sister would like dinosaurs.

Luca wanted to show her his collection of wooden cars.

Noah insisted that Lily should sleep beside him until she became accustomed to the house.

I listened to their plans and felt an ache in my chest.

They had never met their sister, yet they were already preparing a place for her.

Children, I thought, understood belonging in ways adults often forgot.

At four in the afternoon, Victor called.

“We found the house.”

“Is Lily there?”

“No. The place has been abandoned.”

My stomach dropped.

“What about the foster mother?”

“Her name is Margaret Hale. She worked at the hospital where Isabella delivered Lily. She left a note behind.”

“What's it say?”

Victor was silent for a moment.

“She wrote that she had made a terrible mistake and that the child was never supposed to be returned to Eleanor.”

“Returned?”

“That suggests Eleanor knew where Lily was.”

“Can you find her?”

“We found a second address.”

His voice sounded strained.

“Margaret may have taken Lily there.”

I gripped the phone.

“Then go.”

“We're already on our way.”

The line disconnected.

An hour later, Owen called.

They had located Margaret's second address, a modest house on the outskirts of a small town. The front door had been forced open, and the rooms had been searched.

They found no sign of Margaret.

But they found something else.

A child's drawing taped inside a kitchen cupboard.

Three boys stood beside a little girl. Above them, a woman had drawn a yellow sun.

At the bottom were five names.

Matteo.

Luca.

Noah.

Lily.

Grace.

I stared at the picture Owen sent me.

Grace.

My sister's name.

Margaret had known Grace.

Perhaps Grace had visited Lily before she died. Perhaps she had helped Margaret care for the baby. Perhaps the bracelet was not a coincidence at all.

I called Victor.

“There's a connection between Margaret and Grace.”

“I know.”

“How?”

“We found a photograph in the house. Grace was holding Lily.”

My eyes filled with tears.

“Was she happy?”

Victor's voice softened.

“Yes.”

For the first time in three years, I felt I had found a piece of my sister that grief had not taken away.

Then Victor added, “There's something else.”

“What?”

“Margaret's neighbor saw a little girl being taken away by a woman in a gray coat. She said the child was crying for someone named Amelia.”

My blood turned cold.

“Me?”

“The neighbor thought the girl said, 'Aunt Amelia will find me.'”

I pressed a hand against my mouth.

Grace must have told Lily about me.

Even before the child could understand the world, she had known there was someone else who might care for her.

“Where are you going now?” I asked.

“To a private clinic outside Indianapolis. Margaret had an appointment there two days ago. We believe someone may have taken Lily there.”

“I'm coming.”

“No.”

“Victor—”

“Amelia, listen to me. If Eleanor knows you're connected to Grace, she may be watching you. Do not leave the townhouse.”

I looked through the kitchen window.

A black SUV was parked across the street.

My heart stopped.

“Victor,” I whispered. “I think someone is outside.”

“Stay inside. Lock the doors. Call Owen.”

The SUV remained still.

I hurried to the security panel and activated the interior locks. The guards stationed near the entrance moved into position.

Then the SUV's headlights flashed twice.

A man stepped out.

He held up a white envelope.

One of the guards approached him, keeping a hand near his jacket.

The man handed over the envelope and immediately returned to the vehicle.

The SUV drove away.

I opened the envelope only after Victor instructed me to do so over the phone.

Inside was a photograph of Grace standing outside a hospital.

Someone had written a message across the bottom.

STOP LOOKING FOR THE GIRL, OR YOUR SISTER'S DEATH WILL BE YOURS.

I could barely breathe.

Victor's voice became cold.

“Do not touch anything else. Owen is sending someone to collect the envelope.”

“Who would send this?”

“I have a suspicion.”

“Your mother?”

“I hope not.”

“Why?”

“Because if Eleanor is involved, this family is in more danger than I thought.”

That evening, the boys noticed my distress.

Noah climbed onto the sofa beside me.

“Is Lily coming home?”

I swallowed.

“I hope so.”

“Are you sad?”

“A little.”

He leaned against my arm.

“Daddy says people who love you come back.”

I looked at him.

“Does he?”

“He said Mommy loved us, even when she couldn't stay.”

The words nearly broke me.

I wrapped my arms around him.

“Your father is right. Love doesn't disappear just because someone is gone.”

Noah considered this.

“Then Grace still loves you?”

I closed my eyes.

“Yes,” I whispered. “She does.”

Later that night, Victor returned to Chicago with Owen.

He looked exhausted.

“Did you find her?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“We found the clinic. Margaret had been treated there under a false name. The staff confirmed that a little girl matching Lily's description had been brought in, but she was gone before we arrived.”

“Where did they take her?”

“We don't know.”

I looked at the photograph of Grace.

“Someone is always one step ahead of us.”

Victor nodded.

“Because someone is telling them where we look.”

We stood in silence.

Then he turned toward Owen.

“Who had access to the investigation?”

“Me, you, the lead investigator, and three members of the security team.”

“Remove everyone else from the case.”

“Understood.”

Victor looked at me.

“Amelia, I need you to tell me everything Grace said before she died.”

I tried to remember.

“She was frightened during the last month of her life. She kept checking her phone. She asked whether anyone had been asking about our family.”

“Did she mention Isabella?”

“Not by name.”

“Did she ever tell you she was helping a child?”

I shook my head.

“Not directly. But she did say she had promised someone she would never abandon a little girl.”

Victor looked toward the photograph.

“Lily.”

I nodded.

He took a slow breath.

“Then we need to find out what Grace left behind.”

The following morning, I returned to my old apartment with two security guards. The landlord had changed the locks after I fell behind on rent, but Victor's attorney had arranged access so I could collect my remaining belongings.

The apartment looked smaller than I remembered.

Grace's books were still stacked beside the window. Her favorite mug sat on the kitchen shelf. A framed photograph of us as children lay face down on the counter.

I stood in the doorway for a long time.

Then I remembered the envelope.

Three days before her death, Grace had called me from the hospital and told me she had hidden something beneath the loose floorboard in her bedroom.

At the time, I had forgotten about it amid the funeral arrangements.

I knelt beside the bed and lifted the board.

Beneath it was a small notebook wrapped in plastic.

My hands shook as I opened it.

The first pages contained ordinary notes about her nursing classes. Then the entries became shorter, more urgent.

Eleanor Bellandi has found out about Lily.

Margaret is frightened.

Isabella says Victor cannot know until she has proof.

If something happens to me, Amelia must find the girl.

I turned another page.

The handwriting was hurried.

The accident wasn't an accident.

A car has been following me for six days. I think they know where I live.

If I disappear, the evidence is in the blue locker at the old train station.

I stared at the words.

Grace had known she was in danger.

She had tried to warn me.

And I had never understood.

I pressed the notebook against my chest, fighting back tears.

Then I turned to the final page.

There was a locker number and a key taped beneath the paper.

Beside them was a name.

Daniel Cross.

I recognized it immediately.

Daniel had been Grace's boyfriend during her final year of nursing school. He had disappeared after her funeral, leaving behind a phone number that no longer worked.

I called Victor.

“I found something.”

He listened as I explained.

When I mentioned Daniel Cross, his voice changed.

“Do not go to the station.”

“Why?”

“Because Daniel Cross was a security contractor for my mother.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“He worked for Eleanor for six months before Grace died. After the accident, he disappeared.”

“Do you think he killed her?”

“I don't know.”