Chapter 5 - Uncovering the Past
Chapter 5 - Uncovering the Past
That night, after the doctors had checked the children for the second time and confirmed they were in perfect health, I sat in my subterranean security vault. Rows of server racks hummed in the background, cooling fans blowing chill air across my face.
"Marco," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Dig up the history of this estate. Every single record. I want to know who built it, who died in it, and every family that lived here between 1924 and the day I bought it."
Marco stood by the metal desk, his tablet glowing in the dim light. "Boss, we ran those checks when you bought the property. It was clean. A standard title search."
"Title searches don't show what lives in the walls, Marco," I snapped, turning my head to look at him. "My children were attacked by something that bypassed every thermal sensor, every biometric lock, and every camera we own. And the only thing that stopped it was a four-year-old girl with a button-eyed doll."
Marco swallowed hard. He knew I didn't lose my temper easily, but when I did, it meant danger. "I'll dig deeper. Property tax records, local church registries, old newspaper archives from the Chicago Tribune. I'll find out what's buried under Lake Forest."
"Do it now."
As Marco turned to leave, my phone buzzed on the desk. It was an encrypted line. I picked it up.
"Moretti," I answered.
"Adrien," a voice whispered—harsh, distorted by a voice-changer. "Enjoying your peaceful family life? The triplets are growing fast. It would be a shame if something... supernatural... happened to them before their first birthday."
My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. The screen cracked under the pressure of my thumb.
"Who is this?" I snarled, rising from my chair. "Give me a name, and I’ll feed you to the Chicago river before sunrise."
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"Names don't matter, Moretti. You think your guns and your goons protect you? You think your money buys safety? There are forces in this city older than the syndicate, older than your grandfather's immigrant ships. And they want what's in that nursery."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
