Chapter 3 - The Enemy Had Been Sitting at Lucian’s Table for Years
Elena was transferred to a secure hospital before midnight.
Lucian stayed beside her.
Not because he trusted the doctors.
Because he no longer trusted anyone.
Arya sat with Noah in the pediatric wing.
For the first time in six years, Lucian was terrified of losing someone for a reason that had nothing to do with business.
He had always believed death was the currency of his world.
People threatened you.
People betrayed you.
People disappeared.
You survived.
But Elena lying in that hospital bed had turned survival into something personal.
When she finally slept, Lucian left the room.
Matteo waited in the corridor.
"Marcus Hale has been located."
Lucian's face hardened.
"Where?"
"An estate outside Gary."
"How many men?"
"At least twenty."
Lucian shook his head.
"No raid."
Matteo looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because I want him talking."
They reached the estate before dawn.
It was an old brick mansion surrounded by snow.
Marcus Hale was sitting at a dining table.
He looked sixty.
Gray hair.
Perfect suit.
A glass of whiskey untouched beside him.
When Lucian entered, Marcus smiled.
"You've grown."
Lucian stopped.
"My whole life you told me you were dead."
Marcus shrugged.
"Your father needed you to believe that."
"Why?"
"Because boys don't inherit kingdoms if they know who is waiting to take them."
Lucian looked at him.
"You took Elena."
"I protected her."
"You kidnapped her."
"I kept her away from your enemies."
"By keeping her away from her children?"
Marcus's eyes hardened.
"Your father would have thanked me."
"My father is dead."
"Exactly."
Lucian stepped closer.
"Why Arya?"
Marcus laughed softly.
"You mean why did I care about the children?"
"Yes."
"Because your father promised the empire to you."
"He did."
"And I believed he was making the greatest mistake of his life."
Marcus leaned back.
"You were emotional."
Lucian almost smiled.
"That's your explanation?"
"No. That's the beginning."
Marcus continued.
"You had Elena. You had children. You started thinking about leaving the business."
Lucian froze.
"How would you know that?"
"Because I was watching."
Marcus's eyes gleamed.
"You were going to walk away."
"Yes."
"And that terrified me."
"Why?"
"Because your father spent thirty years building the Moretti organization."
"He built a prison."
Marcus's face darkened.
"He built power."
"And you wanted it."
Marcus smiled.
"Of course."
Lucian heard footsteps outside.
Matteo entered.
"Boss."
Marcus looked at him.
"You were always loyal to the wrong Moretti."
Matteo ignored him.
"We have a problem."
Lucian turned.
"What?"
"Vincent has Arya."
Everything inside Lucian stopped.
"What?"
"He got into the hospital."
Lucian grabbed Matteo by the collar.
"How?"
"We had an internal breach."
Marcus laughed.
"You still don't understand."
Lucian turned.
Marcus said, "Vincent never needed to attack the hospital."
"Then how?"
"Because there was already someone there."
Lucian remembered.
The nurse.
The receptionist.
The orderly.
The security guard.
Someone had carried the information.
Someone knew where Arya was.
Lucian's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Vincent's voice came through.
"Hello, Uncle."
Lucian's face went cold.
"You have Arya."
"Yes."
"Release her."
"I want something first."
"What?"
"The Moretti ledger."
Lucian frowned.
"What ledger?"
"The one your father hid."
Marcus stopped smiling.
Lucian noticed.
"You know about it."
Marcus looked away.
Vincent continued.
"Bring it to the old train station."
"And if I refuse?"
"You'll receive something that belongs to you."
A photograph arrived.
Arya tied to a chair.
Her eyes were open.
She wasn't crying.
She was staring directly into the camera.
Lucian's heart shattered.
Then another message arrived.
She asked if her father was coming.
Lucian closed his eyes.
"Where?"
"Union Station. Midnight."
The line ended.
Matteo stepped forward.
"We go."
Marcus smiled.
"And then what?"
Lucian stared at him.
"You're coming too."
Marcus's smile vanished.
"Why?"
"Because you know where the ledger is."
Marcus said nothing.
Lucian's expression hardened.
"Tell me."
Marcus stared at him.
Then he finally whispered.
"Your father didn't leave you money."
"What did he leave?"
"A key."
Lucian frowned.
"Where?"
Marcus pointed toward Lucian's chest.
"In your mother's locket."
Lucian went still.
His mother's locket had been buried six years ago with Elena.
No.
Not buried.
Elena had taken it.
He turned toward the hospital.
Everything clicked.
Elena had the key.
And Marcus had known all along.
Back at the hospital, Lucian woke Elena.
"Your locket."
Her eyes widened.
"What about it?"
"Where is it?"
She reached beneath her pillow.
A small gold chain.
Lucian took it.
Inside was a tiny steel key.
Elena whispered, "Your mother gave it to me."
"Why?"
"She said your father was afraid Marcus would find the ledger."
"What does the key open?"
"A safety deposit box."
"Which bank?"
Elena shook her head.
"I don't know."
Arya had memorized the code.
Lucian remembered her Bible.
He suddenly understood.
She wasn't just carrying a Bible.
She was carrying a map.
The code opened the safety box.
Inside the box was a black ledger.
Hundreds of names.
Payments.
Locations.
Photographs.
And at the bottom was a single page signed by Lucian's father.
Marcus Hale stole from the organization for eighteen years.
Vincent Hale knows everything.
Elena Bennett is innocent.
Protect my grandchildren.
Lucian's fingers tightened around the page.
His father had known.
He had been preparing for this moment.
Then another document caught his eye.
A birth certificate.
Two children.
Arya Bennett.
Noah Bennett.
Father: Lucian Moretti.
Mother: Elena Bennett.
Lucian stared at his own name.
It wasn't a theory.
It wasn't a story.
They were his.
The next page contained one final sentence.
If Marcus comes for the children, do not negotiate.
End the Moretti side of the war.
Lucian closed the ledger.
Matteo looked at him.
"What are you going to do?"
Lucian's answer was quiet.
"I'm bringing my family home."
At midnight, the old train station would become a battlefield.
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But this time Lucian wasn't fighting for an empire.
He was fighting for two children who had asked him for nothing except a chance to come home.
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