Chapter 7 - The Children the City Would Split Apart
The judge's first question wasn't about money.
"Mr. Moretti, what will happen when you are angry?"
Luca sat in a small family courtroom wearing the only plain gray suit Rosa could find in his closet. Across the aisle, Denise Porter waited with folders of records and the weary patience of someone who had listened to a hundred promises from adults who misunderstood what children needed.
"I used to believe anger solved problems," he answered. "Now I know these girls have already seen what angry men do. I won't bring that into their home."
The judge studied him. "Promises are easy. Who will hold you accountable?"
"Ms. Porter. Their therapists. Their teachers. Their mother, if we can find her. And the girls themselves."
A lawyer representing the children's placements rose. The agency had concerns about Luca's criminal associations, the armed guards at his estate, and whether the girls might be exposed to retaliation. Those concerns were real. The courtroom didn't soften them because the man in question happened to be rich.
Then Denise presented her observations. Luca had cooperated with visits, opened the house records to review, agreed to remove weapons from the residential areas, and arranged for an independent child psychologist. Most important, the children wanted to remain together.
Grace was allowed to speak privately with the judge. Luca waited outside, pacing a corridor that smelled of coffee and old carpet.
He was still pacing when Grace came out.
"Did I say it right?" she asked Denise.
"You said what you meant. That's right enough."
Luca crouched. "What did you tell her?"
"That I'm afraid of your house," Grace said. "Because it's too quiet. And because the gates are high."
He forced himself to keep listening.
"And I told her when I couldn't sleep, you stayed in the hallway until I did. You didn't ask me to stop crying."
"Thank you for telling the truth."
"I told her I wanted Mommy. But while we're looking, I want my sisters."
The judge extended the temporary placement with supervision and a formal safety plan. The arrangement was not an adoption, not a permanent ruling, and not permission for Luca to make decisions for every child. Still, the girls would sleep under the same roof that night.
At the courthouse steps, a reporter shouted, "Are they really all your daughters?"
Luca could have answered with the grand promise that had moved the crowd outside the hotel. Instead he said, "One is my biological daughter. The others are children I intend to care for, if they'll let me. Their stories belong to them, not the cameras."
The clip spread faster than the original photograph.
That afternoon, the investigation produced its first break. St. Agnes Annex had been sold through three shell companies after its closure. The final owner was a Moretti Logistics subsidiary that Luca had approved in a stack of real-estate acquisitions six years earlier. He had never visited it. The signature on the purchase was his.
"Adrian's going to use this," Ruth warned.
"He already is," Luca said. "I'm the name on the deed."
Detective Soto met them in a municipal office, accompanied by federal investigator Thomas Reed, whose badge and careful wording made clear that Luca himself remained under scrutiny.
"We have a possible location for Hannah," Soto said. "But we need the warrant process and a coordinated entry. No private rescue teams, no armed employees charging in."
Luca's expression closed. "She's in there."
"We don't know whether she is now. If we go in loudly and recklessly, people could die."
He looked at Reed. "Do you suspect me?"
"Your company owns the building. Some financial transfers were authorized through accounts in your name. We're following the evidence, wherever it leads."
"Then follow it quickly."
He left his own men outside and gave Soto access to the property records, shipping logs, and foundation correspondence. She didn't thank him. A man with his history wasn't owed applause for finally allowing an investigation to do its work.
Back at the estate, the children were preparing for a quieter kind of battle. Denise had suggested they each choose something that would make the strange house feel less strange. Emma wanted a proper shoe rack so June wouldn't lose her boots. Nora wanted the bedroom doors painted different colors. Sophie requested a blackboard for drawings. Tessa asked for a lamp that could stay on all night.
Ruby asked for a key to the front gate.
Luca hesitated. "Why?"
"Because at the other house, the men locked the door from the outside."
He knelt until their eyes met. "You shouldn't ever have to use a gate alone. But you should know how to get out in an emergency. Mateo will show you and Rosa, and we'll practice with Denise."
Ruby nodded, satisfied not by a key but by the fact that someone had listened.
After dinner, Luca found nine pairs of shoes lined carefully beneath the staircase. June's tiny pair stood beside Grace's muddy boots. Somebody had written their names on paper hearts and taped them above the row.
He took a photograph and sent it to Ruth with one line: This is what we're trying to protect.
His phone rang seconds later. Soto.
"We have a warrant for St. Agnes," she said. "Our team is moving. There's something else you need to know. The nurse who helped Hannah is missing."
"When?"
"After she spoke to us. Her apartment was empty. Her car was found near the canal."
Luca's throat went dry. "Are we too late?"
"I don't know."
From the staircase, Grace watched his face change.
"Is it Mommy?"
He wanted to hide the fear from her. He couldn't.
"We found somewhere she might have been," he said. "The police are going there."
Grace took one step down, then another.
"Can I ask you a favor?"
"Anything I can do."
"Don't promise to bring her home tonight. Just promise you'll be here when I wake up."
Luca put his phone away.
"That," he said, "I can promise."
May you like
But at St. Agnes Annex, the officers entering the blue door would find a room emptied minutes before their arrival.
On the bed lay a folded hospital blanket and a single envelope addressed to Luca Moretti.
